"Descent"

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

Small stones rolled beneath Saul's feet as he descended rushed down the slope. A cloud of dust steadily rose behind him. Around him, a dozen of small animals with gray hardened exoskeleton scurried downwards, leaping from one boulder to the other.

He was lucky to find the pack, and it didn't take much to frighten them and make them stampede toward the facility. It masked his own approach, and after tripping a few time he reached the facility's walls.

The short descent wore him down, but there was no time to rest. Once he caught his breath, Saul began to inspect the walls, looking for a way to infiltrate the facility. The long, snake-like structured stretched from one horizon to the other, and seemed impregnable – but Saul knew that nothing ever is. There had to be a weakness.

He began to ran, remaining near the walls as much as he could. Every few seconds, he turned his head to the left, making sure that no patrols moved along the ridge, or on the facility's roof. He knew that the pistol he was carrying was just a formality – the first time he's sighted, he's as good as dead.

His heart was pounding so hard he could actually hear it, without any louder noise to down it in the silence of the night. It calmed down only when, after a long run, Saul finally found the weakness.

The service door was easy to miss in the dark, its thin outline embedded into the wall. Saul knelt next to it, and wiped the sweat off his forward. He broke into buildings dozens of times when he was a kid in Utrecht, but most of them were abandoned, and weren't protected by top of the line Hydran security measures as the facility presumably was.

Without a word, he attached a small device near where he presumed the servo mechanisms moving the door were.

* * *

Saul pressed his back against the wall, and sent the 'Optic bug' ahead of him once more. The miniaturized robot relayed photos from the crossing corridor to a special lens Saul put on his left eye. If anyone could see Saul, he would be intrigued by the fact that the Human now had one brown eye and one blue, but Saul was working very hard to avoid being seen by anyone.

After closely missing several low-ranking Hydrans, and two nasty-looking druids, and without finding anything substantial, he finally found something worth of his attention.

A Gharashk'Mev.

The Junior warlord wasn't alone. He was escorted by several Hydran guards which paced briskly, ignorant of the stalker. They probably had some important destination in mind, and Saul was going to find out what it was.

The bug wasn't equipped with audio receptors, so Saul could barely hear their voices. He followed them stealthily, never getting into direct line of sight, while ensuring that no one surprises him from behind.

They turned, crossed an intersection, then turned again. Saul's PADD mapped the path as he advanced, but he tried to memorize the way as well and the Gharashk'Mev wasn't making it easier. By the time they reached the Hydran scientist that waited for them at the gateway, Saul was already lost and hoped that the PADD won't malfunction.

He found a nearby empty storage room, closed the door behind him, and glanced at the PADD once more. The image was distorted, and Saul didn't dare to amplify the signal and risk being detected. But it was enough.

Saul didn't know if to feel relived, shocked, or scared. The compromise between the three was a nasty Dutch curse.

The gateway opened into a gigantic hall, a cavern which was probably more than ten miles long. The lower part of the semi-artificial cave was made of rock, the higher part metal. Strips of florescentic material illuminated the horrors below with ghastly colors.

At first, Saul was certain that the creatures inside the rows of semi-transparent containers were Borg. However, a closer look with the optic bug disproved that initial fear. Instead, floating in the nearest tank was what Saul presumed to be a Vaden native. Its abdomen was cut open, and every few seconds something flashed inside.

Saul ordered the bug to automatically follow the Gharashk'Mev and his group. Now, they were standing next to a tank containing a three-legged animal, not much different than the Hydrans themselves. Various parts of the animal were replaced by cybernetic devices.

Saul blinked, unbelieving.

This went against everything he knew about the Hydrans. Everything.

The animal inside was not an animal at all. It was a Hydran. A breeder by the looks of it. Unless – and that was a big 'unless' – there was some animal which resembled the breeders so much that it could fool someone who considered himself an expert of Hydrans.

As much as Starfleet Intelligence knew, the third Hydran gender – the Breeders – were considered sacred by the males and the females. They were sub-sentient, and as far as Saul knew none of them were ever encountered on a spaceship. The reason for that was obvious – without the Breeders, the Hydrans could not procreate. Period.

There was no way in hell that the Hydrans became so desperate that they began trying to use their own breeders as war machines.

If that's not enough, the very usage of cybernetics was untypical for the Hydrans, which preferred to rely organic means as the basis of their technology. Instead of fitting a beast with cybernetic enhancements, they would rather bio-engineer that beast into having the same features. And they were mighty good at it.

Still, there it was. Something that looked like a breeder, with implanted metallic breast armor, a visior-like plate replacing his eye stalks, and what looked like a Polaron SMG instead of one of his arms.

Saul waited patiently until the Hydran entourage finished being briefed by the Hydran scientist, and left the hall. Then, he set the bug to keep following them automatically, and sneaked through the gateway. Once he entered the cavern, he rolled behind the nearest tank.

A few clicks on his PADD, and the lens that displayed the images from the bug became a magnifier. He inspected the cavern, making sure that no one was there. Then, he hurried out of his hideout, and began collecting as much evidence as he could.

Oh, the people back at SFI are going to have a field day.

He saw many species, most of them from Federation planets. The other dominating specimens were those of the Vaden natives. Some of them remained intact; Other had cybernetic implants, or severed limbs. Some tanks contained only limbs.

Then, he saw the Deltan.

His eyes were wide open, but you could see that he was conscious. Saul stopped dead on his tracks, not wanting to get into the Deltan's field of vision. No, he decoded. The man was alive, but he was as good as dead. You could play a knight with Branwen, but now was not the time for bold rescue missions.

After he was done collecting the data – visual, fast copies of several computer terminals, everything he could lay his hands on without leaving a trace - he dashed out of the cavern, and began catching up with the Hydrans. They were already several floors above him, but the bug marked their trail and it wasn't hard to follow.

Saul caught up with the group as they reached their next destination. It appeared to be a canopied landing bay for atmospheric shuttles. Once more, Saul found a relatively discrete hideout nearby, and bent on one knee in order to watch the visual output from the optic bug once more.

Nothing could prepare the Galaxy's Tactical chief for what he saw next.

OOC: it's long, it's weird - in other words - nothing new under the sun. Feedback wanted ;)

"Path to evolution - part one

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra - Hydran

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

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra felt a stir in his sleep. He shifted his massive body restlessly, not wanting to wake up from the dream he was having. Finally he had to give up and opened his three eyes with a heavy sigh and rolled out of the bed.

Age and time had caught up with him. He was no longer the warrior he had once been, although he still served the Hydran society to the best of his ability.

Sleep no longer came easy to him, not with the aches and scars from a long life to keep him company. Just as well that he was alone these days. His inability to sleep would have driven his now deceased mate into a fit. B'Tga'Mlak'Ra chuckled while getting himself some water to drink. It had been a good dream, but like most times when his dreams were good he woke up. The vision nearly made him choke on the liquid. His massive body collapsed on the floor in uncontrollable spasms, arms and legs flaying wildly until the seizures calmed down. Heavily he gasped for breath, coughing roughly until he could breathe properly again.

As always the vision was blurry. The Gods never seemed to account for his poor eyesight. Once, about a million years ago, he had found the thought amusing. Now it just gave him a headache and probably shortened his life by a year every single time the Gods decided to show him something. He had never been able to explain just why he could sometimes see things, things that threatened the Hydran people. It was an anomaly he had remained silent about.

There was no need to blacken his family name with the ramblings of a madman.

Instead he reported it as a finding by his sources and as a member of secret police it was never questioned.

He didn't dare to open his eyes just yet even though it would cause him a severe headache. The vision sharpened ever so slightly, revealing different colored lights, muffled voices and.. music. Slowly the vision became inhabited, no longer the empty image it always started as. It took B'Tga'Mlak'Ra a few moments to take a few deep breaths in order to manage to keep his eyes closed. The headache was starting.

The room was poorly lit, which didn't exactly help him, but then he saw it. A figure, sitting at what appeared to be a bar. The city didn't have too many of those, especially not ones designed for visiting species. The man was hairless, at least from what he could see. A pinkskin! A human!

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra growled in the back of his throat. He wasn't fond of humans, but he didn't hate them like some of his brethren did. He let his mental eye linger on the vision a few moments longer until the headache became unbearable.

He staggered towards the replicator, ordering it to make him some painkillers. It had been worth it. The last seconds had shown him the name of the establishment where he could find the stranger. The machine alerted him to the newly created pills laying in front of him. Swallowing them he wondered silently what a human could have done to become important enough to have the Gods display him in a vision? He doubted it was good.

"Path to evolution - part two"

Lt Jebidiah Baile; CO Furies Marine Detachment SFMC
Currently using the alias of "Savage"

------

He knew he should be by the ship. He knew he shouldn't sit in a bar, drinking like there was no tomorrow. He knew he should be out looking for intel about the Hydrans. He knew he should be ready to help the other in case trouble showed its ugly face. He knew a lot of things.

Knowing and doing were two different things. Baile refilled the glass and downed it again. Why the hell had he come here?

Everything had gone the shits on the mission to the Hydran holy grounds and here he was, kneedeep in more shit and up to his hips in Hydrans.

The bartender recognized trouble when he saw it and sitting on the stool in front of him was more trouble than he had ever seen before. Not only did the man seem to try and find oblivion in the bottle, but there was something about him, an air of.. violence. It was the best word he could find for it. At times the man seemed to form a sardonic smile on his face and talk to an invisible companion. Although he didn't understand the words he certainly felt the self-loathing in the man's voice.

Savage. Baile had decided right up front he hated the name. Every letter of it. Hated the way it mocked him, a false name giving a true description. Savage. "Fuck it.." he mumbled to himself, downing another drink. He tapped at the bar for yet another bottle. When the bartender hesitated he growled. "What's the matter Sunshine? My credits not good enough?" as if to demonstrate his point he drew one of his guns and placed it on the bar.

A good bartender knew when it was time to say no and when it was time to keep serving. Now it was the time to keep serving. There was nothing in the strangers body language that indicated he had been joking with the gun. The stranger kept his eyes hidden behind dark goggles, but the bartender had the nagging feeling he should be grateful it was that way.

"That's a good boy.." complemented the bartender with a voice marred from the cheap rootgut he was drinking. It didn't matter it was cheap. It filled its intended purpose. It got him drunk.

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

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra was confused. Not only had the Gods told him where he could find the human, but he knew it was of utmost importance he didn't report it the way he normally did. No, whatever this man had done, the Gods had plans for him. The thought of divine punishment made the Hydran shiver. It had taken him a little while to gather the men he trusted and set the whole thing in motion. No doubt there would be blood flowing this night.

The bar had been almost deserted when the Hydrans had entered it. Five of them. No one messed with the Hydrans. Not unless you wanted your crew jailed, your ship confiscated and yourself thrown in the deepest and darkest pit you could imagine. Conversations fell silent, eyes looked elsewhere as the five walked inside, scanning for the pinkskin they had been instructed to take back with them.

Finding him wasn't hard. He was sitting, or rather leaning over the bar just where they had been told he would be. Chuckling slightly they stopped just behind the drunken figure. The stench of alcohol was quite strong, almost as strong as the breathing was deep. The man was soundly asleep. One of them reached out to grab the human by the neck. A pinkskin was physically no challenge for a Hydran, being both smaller and far more fragile. His hand closed around the human's neck and he hurled the pinkskin to the ground and placed a heavy foot on the back of the prisoner. The Hydran standing next to him barked a short laugh and fired his gun into the head of the pinkskin.

For Baile everything went from black, to pain and then faded to black again.

He woke up with the mother of all headaches. The one from which all headaches sprung and tormented the universe. He felt like he had been run over by.. something. His mind didn't really work well enough yet to come up with a name but it decided that whatever had run him over was big. Very big.

He swallowed a few times, only to find his throat dry. "Great... " he grumbled to himself, but couldn't muster enough temper to get irritated. Instead he succumbed to a feeling of detachment. He had been angry for so long and now that he needed it the most it wasn't there. The marine sighed, trying to determine how long he had been out. Considering he hadn't pissed himself he hadn't been out for too long. Five-six hours tops.

He was chained to the chair he was sitting on, but still he gave the chains a tug, just for test. Naturally there was no way he could break them. Not unless he suddenly became five times stronger and judging from the headache that was as likely to happen as it was for him to become a virgin again.

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face. He could feel his body bending itself backwards and front again to get rid of the alcohol. That pissed him off a little. He had worked hard on getting drunk. Now thanks to some gene-splicing cowboy all that work would be for nothing.

A sudden voice broke through his line of thought, if it could even be called thinking. It actually startled Baile as he had not seen or heard the person.

At all. That did just not happen no matter how drunk he was. Others missed noticing persons. Not him. Ever. And still there was someone standing less than three feet in front of him.

"Welcome. Getting you here proved more... of a challenge than first anticipated."

Baile snorted. "I'm heartbroken.."

"No, not yet. But you will be." the voice replied and cut through the drunken haze like Baile's knife cut through spinal cords. It got his attention.

Suddenly he didn't feel drunk at all.

"Great.. another self-absorbed self-proclaimed bad guy... " the marine replied in a far more bored voice than he felt inside. Something inside of him stirred and who ever it was standing in front of him was the reason for it. It tugged at the very edge of his humanity, or what was left of it, trying to find a chink in the armor.

The figure found the comment amusing and sat down. Baile could have sworn there had not been a chair there a second ago. "Isn't that an apt description for you?" it asked. "King of Killers..."

Baile froze. Only one person had ever called him that. Maya. He tried sensing her but there was nothing but an empty void, more cold than the vastness of space. He could swear he felt a cold wind blow across his face when he realised he was alone. "Maya?"

"Hardly. I'm someone not yet killed by you."

The chains rattled low when Baile adjusted his seat slightly. "Then release me and I'll fix that."

The figure sat silently for a few seconds. "No. As tempting as it is I fear that would render all the hard work put into you null and void."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he snarled. But a snarl was the extent of the anger he could muster. Why wouldn't the anger surface?

"All in good time, my friend."

"Trust me, Sparky.. I'm not your friend.."

"No, you're not. I fear you are no ones friend."

"Could you get to the point? This whole brainy bad guy routine is making me contemplate suicide..." Irritation flared up in Baile when the figure laughed.

"I doubt it... you are undoubtedly contemplating a great many number of things, most of which involves violence - but suicide? Allow me to doubt that."

"For fucks sake. Just torture me and get it over with."

The figure looked directly at Baile, its features hidden inside a heavy hooded cloak. "When that time comes I will be more than happy to oblige. But first a trip down memory lane."

Baile sat silent. The figure felt familiar, but on the other hand he knew, just knew deep down that he had never seen the figure before. Ever. Where the hell was Maya when he for once needed her? Pretty fucked up time to go bye-bye.

The mental struggle inside Baile was as easy to sense and feel for the strange figure as raindrops on dry skin. Pain would not be the answer, not yet anyway. The fool had a unique ability to endure pain. Again he thanked his creators for placing a... handler inside the fool's mind. He took one last look at the human in front of him. Weak, but yet immensely deadly. This one was like a dark plague, guaranteed to kill.

Baile was suddenly alone again. The emptiness of the room felt refreshing in comparison with the company he had just been entertained with. He shook his head. "Now you've done it, shit for brains.." he chided himself. "Alright. Think." Despite the risk of the room being bugged he couldn't care less. Just trying to form a coherent line of thought in his mind made that brain of his do somersaults.

"Can't be the Hydrans that nabbed you. They never miss a chance to beat up human." He shook his head again. "No questions about who I am or where I come from. No drugs. No cookies."

Damn headache.

"No threats, no torture."

It was starting to annoy him now. Really annoy him.

"And where the hell is Maya? I swear.. that woman. If I see her agai.." He never got any further as he sank into the darkness again.

"Little worm on a big fraggin hook..."

With Fleet Admiral John Q. Bhrode, former Captain of the USS GALAXY, and current commanding officer of the Olympic Fleet.

Also appearing: Director. Nowlan Phall, Director of PROJECT: NARNIA at the K57 research and development facility and sundry members of Bhrode's command crew..

Location: The Observation Deck of K-57 (a classified research instillation on the fringes of Federation space in the Beta Quadrant.)

Date: Valentine's Day

Previously: Realizing that the infamous treaty between the Borg and the Federation will soon come to an end, Fleet Admiral John Q Bhrode and his Olympus fleet set sail for the K57 research facility where an unsanctioned prototype of a transwarp gate has been built in the hopes of advanced recon of Borg activities. That prototype is now ready for testing.

****************************************************************************************************
"Nothing is more worthy of the attention of a good general then the endeavor to penetrate the designs of the enemy." - Niccolo Machiavelli

****************************************************************************************************

"Number 2, If you don't make it back, please remember that you will carry with you to the grave my eternal disappointment. More over, I will then endeavor to find an adequate replacement who would posses the same qualities you have exhibited in our time together. That being a chimp in heat or Leo Streely. In closing, upon which time that I then choose to cease living, I will then hunt you down in the hear after and lodge my boot into your ass." Fleet Admiral John Q Bhrode spat as he leaned over the railing of the observation deck, overlooking a giant viewscreen.

Filling it's enormous surface was the image of the transwarp conduit and the USS HERMES, Captained by Commander Lysander Hawksley, Brhode's Centurion second in command, positioned on the outside of it's metallic maw.

"I love you too, Admiral." Commander Hawksley said over the comm. "HERMES in position and standing by for your orders, sir."

To Brhode's right, the holographic form of Commander Von Ernst shimmered slightly. The diminutive redhead was seated in the Captain's chair on Brhode's flagship - the Zeus. The image showed her incline her head ever so slightly.

"Very moving, Admiral. One of your best, almost as good as your speech to one Captain Churchill of the Atlantis when they lost their Cardassian comm officer weeks before you arrived for his transfer." she deadpanned.

"Of coarse it was, Number 1." the chiseled veteran Admiral uttered. Knowing that Von Ernst's amazing analytical mind was currently plotting and counterplotting scenarios and response patterns to any threat that could arise, Bhrode turned his attention to the crew of the K57 who were racing around below him at various stations and computer banks like ants building a hive.

He had resisted the urge to station his own science personnel to assist in the project only after Dr. Phall's borderline begging assurances in the competency of his people.

Still the old man hated to leave the fate of any member of his well oiled crew in the hands of one who lacked the discipline nessicary for perfection and in his experience, very few people not in his command possessed that discipline.

At once the lights dimmed bathing the room in the green hue of the auxiliry lighting system. The floor below was filled with various lights and viewscreens giving the image that Brhode was standing far above a spwarling cityscape.

Director Phall had previously appeared somewhat awkward and sheepish, although not to the extend of the good Dr. Quick. He now had a focus and zeal that mildly amused, if not slightly impressed the Admiral. Phall ordered a call out and one by one each station checked in with the expected 'ready' signal.

On the giant viewscreen, the old man could see the skeletal transwarp gate come to life as if it were awakening from a long slumber.

"Number 2, report!" Bhrode barked into his headset, prepared to order the HERMES out of the vicinity if the energy readings from the conduit were registering harmful in any way.

"Sensors show that we're still in the green, Admiral." Lysander chirped, oblivious to the irony that Bhrode was literally bathed in green light.

"Everyone, stand by and stay sharp" the admiral transmitted to his crew, speaking on a frequency separate from the one Phall was using.

Space inside the gate began to distort, slowly at first, then more violently as space began to fold over itself repeatedly. The gate thrummed with power and as it reached a crescendo, a wormhole appeared in the center of the gate, growing in size until it touched the sides of the many restraining arms that were designed to hold it in shape.

On the floor below, Phall demanded readings from the gate and after a tense few moments, he announced loudly that the gate was activated. On this note the viewscreen split to now include the forward view from the HERMES.

"Whenever you are ready Number 2. And be careful." the Admiral said, letting slip his stern demeanor.

The HERMES moved forward on one quarter impulse and pierced the wormhole. Sensors on both the ship and the station recorded countless readings as the vessel was fully engulfed in the worm hole.

Slowly it creeped for what seemed like 10 to 15 minutes until a dark oval could be seen off of the HERMES' nose.

"Making coarse correction for target." Commander Hawksly announced.

"Copy, Number 2. Number 1 are we clear?" Brhode asked.

"Long range sensors show no contacts, sir. Broadbased variating spectrum screenings show no signs of cloaked vessels." Von Ernst announced. She and the rest of the fleet were responsible for not only guarding the station from anyone that may be lurking about, but they also were poised to strike down anything that came out of the gate that was not broadcasting the appropriate friend or foe code.

"They should be coming up to the mirror any moment" one of the technicians called out. The opposite end of the portal was referred to as the mirror since in theory, one could stand on one end and see outward, but those on the other would see nothing but reflected stars giving the illusion that there was nothing amiss.

This would allow the Federation to watch the Borg, without being seen so long as the surface of the exit point was not breached for a period of about an hour before the gate began to destabilize and needed to be recharged - or at least that was the theory behind the project. Multiple tests had been done to support that theory, however this was the first time an entire ship had been used.

Bhrode gripped the railing tighter. Unknown to Dr. Phall, in the event that the Borg breached the conduit, the Admiral's first order was to collapse it by any means nessicary and at all costs. This included the life of everyone aboard the HERMES. The ship was full of brave men and women who understood that yet still volunteered for the duty.

The second half of the emergency protocols would see Brhode being beamed back to the Zeus and the station reduced to subatomic particles.

"Im getting something" Commander Hawksley called out.

On the screen images slowly began to come into focus. One by one, Borg cubes could be seen winking into the starscape, until the screen was filled with them.

"I'll be damned." Brhode uttered, then ordered data streams and sensors to begin recordings - an unnessicary order as his crew was no doubt doing that even as they spoke, but one he felt compelled to call out.

"I sure hope Phall is right." Lysander broadcast as a Borg cube swooped past his position. "I feel like a little worm on a big fraggin hook right now."

"Path to Evolution - part three"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Lt Jonathan Hendricks, SFMC, "The Crows".

An unnamed jungle during the Dominion Wars

---------

A slight wind carrying with it the scents of trees, flowers, plants and animals woke him up. Opening his eyes he saw nothing but the roof of the jungle. Massive branches hiding the surface from the blue sky. Groaning he realised he was laying flat on his back. Then a figure walked into his line of vision, giving him a kick to his leg to get his attention.

"Time to get moving, Flea. Smith wants us to check out grid three niner as soon as possible." the spec-ops soldier cocked his rifle to emphasize his words. "So wake up you sleeping.. I don't think I can find a word to describe that face of yours."

Hendricks?! What the hell? The man was Jonathan Hendricks, member of the Crows. An asshole, but few riflemen could match his guts or skills. More than a little surprised he got up on his feet. "Where the fuck are we?" he groaned. His back was killing him. Looking around he saw his backpack. To his own surprise he held his own rifle in his hands. Shit, he hadn't seen that rifle since the unit got disbanded.

Hendricks looked at him and barked a short laugh. "Well whooptido miss Daisy. What the fuck do you care?"

He watched Hendricks move out into the jungle, not bothering to wait for him. Confused he grabbed the backpack and moved out after the rifleman. It didn't take long for it all to feel... familiar again. But it couldn't be right. It had to be a holodeck or a drug induced hallucination. It had to be something else than the real thing.

As confusing as things felt he knew one thing - he was not walking around in the middle of a jungle with people he was no longer allowed to associate with. Still. Every fibre in his body screamed at him that it was reality. His skin felt the humidity and the mosquitoes. He could smell the scents of the jungle, hell, he could even recognize a few of them. His eyes could see the life a jungle had, the insects, the snakes, spiders, cats, apes and god knew what. Holodecks were good, but they couldn't fool his senses. His gut feeling. Never. But whoever had set this up was good. So it had to be drugs.

He followed Hendricks, who as always was at the ready. The rifleman scanned the area, ready to react to anything that set off the alarms in his mind. Strange. Baile had never really watched Hendricks. To him the rifleman had been in the back, along with the others. He had worked mostly with Saar, the other pointman, but only when the situation called for it. Other than that he had been on his own.

"Hey, Hendricks.."

The rifleman stopped, but didn't stop watching the terrain around them. "What? Want me to hold it for you while you take a piss?"

Baile was about to respond when something occurred to him. The goggles. He still wore them. Ignoring Hendricks for a few seconds he raised his hands towards them. He could feel them tremble. Taking a deep breath to steady them he closed his eyes and lifted the goggles.

"I wouldn't do that..." Hendricks voice warned him.

He opened his eyes and a spear of light was thrust into every nerve in his brain. His entire world exploded into pain. He dropped to his knees, covering his eyes with his hands. He tried screaming but his throat closed up, not releasing more than a croaking whisper. It felt strange. Despite the pain he could hear Hendricks move in closer. It was as if a part of his brain was dedicated to survey his surroundings. He could smell the camouflage-paint on Hendricks and his own face. The sensation confused him. His brain kept feeding him with the information just as it kept hitting him with a hammer on the head.

Hendricks grabbed the goggles and wrestled Bailes arms out of the way long enough to help the pointman to get the goggles back in place. "Stupid ass mofo.. told you.."

"Fuck you." Baile breathed hard. He felt drained of energy.

"Not in this lifetime asshole.. Can you move?"

Baile nodded. Getting up to his feet again took some effort, but after a few seconds his limbs seemed to go back to normal. Out of old habit he checked his rifle and made sure the silencer hadn't been knocked out of alignment.

"Good.. cause you know there is no way in hell I'll carry your sorry ass.."

"There's no way I'd let you touch my sorry ass. Let's move." he responded to Hendricks without thinking. It was definitely all to real. That was the sort of banter he and Hendricks had had.

They walked in silence for a few hours, giving Baile ample time to think, but in the end he reached the same conclusion. Nothing. It was strange. The ship he now served on, the Galaxy, felt.. alien. Dangerous. He never truly relaxed there. But here, in a jungle filled to the brim with armed enemies that wanted nothing more than to kill him he felt at peace.

Hendricks voice interrupted his line of thinking. "Time to work that magic of yours, Flea.. according to intel there's an air defence post about two clicks up. Smith wants you to take a look at it and if possible fuck it up."

"According to intel?"

The rifleman grinned. "Yeah, I know.. it could be the main enemy base for all we know.. I looove intel. What was that old slogan? Intel - Idiot inside?"

"What?"

"Ah fuck you... you know nothing you uneducated mofo."

Baile sighed. Hendricks and his stupid nonsense knowledge. "Shut up. I take it I'll be going in solo?"

"Hell yes.. I'm gonna wait here, sip some Tequila and work on my tan."

"It's dark."

"Stop thinking small."

"Why don't you stop thinking all together, change your diaper and wait for me to return?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it mofo?"

Not bothering to reply Baile dropped the backpack on the ground and took the few items he would need. Making sure he had enough ammo he placed the hat back on the head. He was bald. What the hell? He had never been bald when he had been in the Crows. His mohican had been his trademark. Something was definitely not right.

"Anything wrong?" Hendricks asked him from behind.

"Nah.. go back to sleep."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too." The Crows never said 'good luck'. That was bad luck. So they insulted each other instead.

Baile moved out into the dark jungle. He had never been planetside before with the new eyes. He removed the goggles and the darkness vanished. The world he saw wasn't a cheerful one. It was dulled in colors, blurry at the edges, but he had realised the eyes caught movement. No matter how small. Like a ghost he made his way through the thick bushes and trees. It was almost unnatural. The wind made more noise than him and so far he wasn't really trying to be quiet.

He saw the patrol long before it would start to present a danger to him. For a few seconds he contemplated whether he should take them out or not, but decided not to. It was after all only a recon mission.

No. It wasn't

It wasn't a damn mission at all.

None if it was real.

Someone was messing with his mind. Badly.

He tried to focus on that thought, that it was all an illusion, but it felt like trying to capture the image in a mirror. Inside of him he could feel that strange stirring again, like a restlessness. A part of him wanted, truly and deeply wanted to go after the patrol. Screw risk assessment. He just wanted them dead. Just wanted to test them against him. He swallowed hard, pushing down the urge, writing it off as drug induced. Now was not the time to go haywire.

The moment he saw the site he knew where he was. Operation Nimrod.

"Path to Evolution - part four"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Lt Jonathan Hendricks, SFMC, "The Crows".

An unnamed jungle during the Dominion Wars

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

"Took you long enough." Hendricks voice made him spin around. The barrel of his gun aimed directly at Hendricks head.

"What do you want?" This wasn't Hendricks. There was no way in hell or in the rest of the Universe for that matter, that the rifleman could sneak up on Baile. Not in this world. Not in the next world.

He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about the barrel pointing straight at him. "What everyone wants I guess."

"Cut the bullshit unless you want a hole in your head." Baile pressed the trigger ever so slightly activate the lasersight. A red dot appeared on Hendricks forehead.

To his surprise Hendricks just smiled. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Baile frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You. They told me about you, but I had to see with my own eyes and I'm glad I did."

"Let's for the sake of entertainment assume I don't have a clue of what you're talking about and that I've got a really strong desire to shoot you right here, right now." Baile growled. He could almost hear a voice in his head trying to convince him to shoot.

"I'm talking about you of course. More specifically those two glowing orbs of yours."

"My eyes?"

"And they say Marines are dumb..."

"What about them?"

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll stand."

"Smart. Start talking."

The rifleman shrugged. "Operation Nimrod. Remember that? We didn't even have to go in there thanks to you. You cleared the whole place out on your own. Smith was impressed when I told him. Fuck, I was impressed and we both know I hate your guts for always getting the fun jobs."

He remembered. Oh how he did remember.

"Tell me, Flea. How many did you kill? I mean the Ketracel-junkies are though, but you, you just walked in there and started butchering them and their minions. Fuck me. How many?"

"What difference does that make?"

"More than you think. How many?"

"Fuck you!"

"How many?"

"I swear to God. If you don't shut up I'll shoot you, right here, right now."

Hendricks chuckled. "You swear to a lot of things, Flea, but God ain't one of them. He don't listen to the likes of you. HOW MANY?"

Taking a deep breath to calm down Baile realised that was the wrong thing to do. Hendricks hand hit the barrel of his rifle just enough to knock it to the side of his head. The bullet fired by the rifle buried itself in a tree behind them. The muffled sound of the round fired still sounded like thunder in Baile's ears. Less than a second later Hendricks boot impacted on Baile's chest, sending him backwards. He tried to keep his balance but got snagged on a root and fell backwards. Holding onto the rifle would buy Hendricks a year's worth of time, so he dropped it. This opponent was not some puffed up Marine or ARC down in the gym. Hendricks was a Spec-Ops with more scalps than anyone would care to think about. He was just as much of a killing machine as Baile.

Rolling with the blow Baile held his knife in his hand even before he got up on his feet. He crouched down, readying himself for what ever would come. Hendricks was standing in front of him, holding his own knife at the ready.

"Damn Flea.. I bet you slap quicker than an offended woman."

"Come here and find out."

"Don't worry. I will. But answer my question. How many did you kill that night?"

None of them would waste any energy to wave the knife around. It would produce an opening, an opening like that would most likely result in a bad stab or cut. "You know how many. You read the damn mission report."

"Yeah, I did. And you seriously want me to believe that the site was defended by ten people? C'mon Flea.. give me more credit than that..."

"More credit? How about a blade's worth?"

"Tempting, but no. So, how many?"

It had been many. A lot more than ten. It wasn't as if they would go back and do a bodycount. Both he and Smith had known that and Smith didn't really care how or what Baile had to... expidite on a mission as long as the mission got done.

Baile made the first move. Normally he waited for the opponent to strike, but his instincts took over. He wanted to shut Hendricks up, no matter then cost. But his fucking tongue out and hold it in front of him.

It was more a test of Hendricks defenses than anything else, but it quickly escalated to a full blown fight. The knives moved quickly, two whirling blades searching for blood the quench a thirst. Hendricks' blade was the first one to drink. It cut deep into Baile left biceps, nearly cutting the muscle in half.

"Oops.. " Hendricks grinned and took a step back. "You should have someone take a look at it. Looks bad."

It burned, but it was pain. Baile could feel his senses sharpen up. "Not half as bad as you'll look by the time I'm done with you."

"Talk is cheap they say.."

"Then that must make you the cheapest whore in the galaxy." Baile retorted and attacked again. A cut like that slowed him down. He knew it. Hendricks knew it. Hendricks kept working his left side, wearing him out. The blood flowed like a warm embrace down his arm. Soon he would get tired. Very tired. This was a tactics he had used himself against many opponents. Cut them deep and watch them bleed to death.

He couldn't remember Hendricks being so good at knife-fighting. But then again this wasn't real. Baile figured Hendricks could be as good as the best in.. wherever the hell he was.

"How many?"

Again Baile attacked, but this time Hendricks stepped back and knocked away Baile's legs with a sweep-kick. Just like he would have done himself.

"How many?"

Hendricks was on him before he even hit the ground, this time landing a violent kick with nearly mechanical precision on the cut. The pain that exploded in Baile's arm made him drop the knife he held in the other. Gasping for air he covered the wound with the other hand. He could feel the blood between his fingers.

"You know, that really doesn't look good. Damn, that's a lot of blood."

"Path to Evolution - part five"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Lt Jonathan Hendricks, SFMC, "The Crows".

An unnamed jungle during the Dominion Wars

---------

Somehow he knew Hendricks would kick him again, but couldn't stop it. He could feel two fingers break from the sheer force of the impact. But he didn't scream, didn't groan. Not a single sound escaped his lips. Screaming would relieve the pain, but something inside him refused to give him that outlet. Even his own body worked against him.

The rifleman crouched down beside him, but not within harms reach. "You're one tough fucker, Flea. I've only feared two people in my life and that's you and Smith. Smith, well, you know Smith. When he gives you the evil eye you know the shit is gonna hit the fan. But you, you're different. You carry all sorts of shit inside and you want nothing more than to take it out on the rest of the world."

Baile said nothing. What was there to say? Hendricks fist hit him hard on the jaw and he fell to the side, onto his injured arm and broken fingers.

"You scared the shit out of most of us. I think even Smith was a little afraid of you and that man is scared of nothing!" Hendricks gave Baile another punch, this time to the back of his head. "You got all fucked up after Maya died. You were fucked up before you met her, but when she died - man, I swear, you left planet Earth behind you. Look at you! Instincts you do not know. Eyes that are not yours. Senses you can't control. And you know

what? It's gonna get worse."

The third punch wasn't delivered with Hendricks fist. It was delivered by the back of Hendricks knife and it cracked Baile's skull. "Even now you refuse to even whimper. I have no trouble admitting that you're tougher than

me, Flea. Fuck, if tough is being like you then I'll take sissy any day."

He hit Baile on the head again. Still silent. "Smith told me once that you're one of a kind. I understand what he meant now. It's not in here.." the rifleman said and hit Baile on the wounded arm again. "You got a tough body. You can take more beating than anyone I know, but that's not it. It's in there." The butt of the knife hit Baile on the head again. "That. Your mind. It can't be cloned. Can't be copied. Nature fucked up when it came to you."

Hendricks lit a cigarette and sat in silence for a little while, watching Baile on the ground. It amazed him the pointman was still alive. His mind simply refused the body to die. It just wouldn't let the body relax. "Tell me something, Flea.. Have you ever thought about why you're so good at killing? I have. I've seen you fight. In the ring you held back, no, that's not it. You didn't hold back but on the other hand you didn't really fight either. I don't know what kind of lies you told yourself."

Pausing for a second Hendricks looked at Baile and shrugged.

"Maybe you really thought you did fight. But we both know that's not the case. You know how to kill. You can't explain it, but you just do. I've seen

you stab Jems and kill them with one single stab. Not just dead, but dead dead. Like the flick of a switch. Now its alive. Not its not. Tick tock. On.

Off. Just like that. Humanoids. Animals. I've seen you do it. Remember that big fucking cat on.. what was that planet? Never mind.. I'm sure you know which one. None of us had seen something like that before, but you just raised that nasty ass rifle of yours and shot it dead. It didn't take two steps. How the hell did you know it had a soft spot just behind the lungs? Take that out and wham! Dead!"

He cocked an eyebrow at Baile.

"Are you dying on me? Stupid question. Of course not. You won't die for a while yet. Personally I think the Reaper himself is scared of you. Maybe you

know his weak spot as well. That would be something. Killing the reaper. That's irony in a big fat paper bag for you." The rifleman chuckled and leaned back against a tree.

"I think that's why Smith is a little afraid of you. That... gift. Or curse.

Or what ever your melodramatic ass calls it. You know how to kill him and since you do you also know he's not human. I wonder if you could kill one of

those.. what they called? Q? Like I said. I think old Ma Nature fucked up when you where born. Fucking Abomination you are."

Baile felt his mind slip further and further into darkness. The walls he had

erected to keep the darkness away eroded quickly. He wasn't going unconscious.

In fact he had not felt as ready and clear in a long time. No, it was more like taking a look in a mirror and really seeing what looked back. He couldn't explain it. Maybe Hendricks was right. Maybe old Ma Nature fucked up. But something had awaken in him. Something... that was still him and yet

not. It wasn't an alien mind. He wasn't possessed. It was a part of him. It was him. Simple as that. It was the sum of all of his fears.

"Are you listening to me? Hmm.. looks like you are. You know those eyes of yours?"

For the first time Baile looked at his former team member. "What about them?"

"Well, roast me slowly. It speaks.. " Hendricks grinned, but resisted the urge to give Baile a good hearted slap on the bicep. "They're from a cat. Go

figure. A big mean bastard of a cat that not even Mother Nature could love. Best predator to have ever existed. It healed deep wounds faster than you can empty a bottle of vodka, could take more beating than a tank, had a hide you needed a friggin cannon to penetrate. But that's not what made it dangerous. It had the mind of a predator. It lured its prey into ambushes. Hunted them for days cause it enjoyed the smell of fear. A mean S O B. If Ma Nature fucked up when you got born, then she was pissed off as hell and got it all right when she created that bloody kitten. It was so nasty it took evolution to get rid off it. Just like you. Only evolution will get rid of you. I doubt Hell will take you in. I know Heaven won't. They'll just toss you into the pit again, glad to be rid of the problem for a little while."

"Hendricks..." Baile groaned. He felt his mind slip into whatever awaited him. It mixed and fused, a chaotic vortex ending in... what?

"Uh-hu?"

"Thirtythree.."

"Thirtythree.. shit.. that's.. "

It didn't hurt. It just felt strange. Like dissolving and then being put back together again. Not like a transporter. During beaming you weren't aware of what was happening. It just happened. It was like sleeping. You closed your eyes, then opened them, oblivious of the time that had passed. You knew time had passed, but part of the mind didn't. It had been shut down like a machine. But Baile was aware, he was awake. He felt himself be dismantled into the very components that was him and when he was put back together again it was as if certain holes he had not been aware of had been filled. Like having eight fingers only to realise you should be having ten.

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Nameless stranger

Unknown Hydran templeground.

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

When he opened his eyes the jungle was no longer there. He was laying on a cold and hard stone floor. Slowly he closed and opened his hand to test the broken fingers. Nothing. Rolling his shoulders he felt.. nothing. He was tired, yet rested at the same time. Exhausted, yet filled with energy. His boots scraped against the stone, echoing around him. His eyes pierced the utter darkness around him, revealing strange carvings on the walls.

Symbols.

Signs.

He didn't know what they meant, or cared. "Next room in the freak house then.." he mumbled to himself as he got up on his feet again.

Several archways lead to darkened hallways. The smell was stale. No life. In

here he was the only living thing. Slowly he walked towards one of the archways. It didn't really matter which one he would take. This place wouldn't kill him until it had told him what it wanted him to hear.

There was no use trying to fight what was happening. It would happen whether

he approved of it or not.

Suddenly the stranger from the room was back. Dressed in the same cloak as before. He seemed taller, but that was fairly irrelevant. "So which one are you? Ghost of Christmas past, present or future?"

The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Bouncing of the walls. "Neither. If I am a ghost then I am the past, present and future combined."

"I knew you were going to say some vague bullshit like that.."

"Then why ask?"

"I'm the ever optimist.." he replied thick with sarcasm. "So where are we?"

"Some place very old."

"Must be the same place you found your lines..."

The figure stopped mid-step and turned to Baile, but the marine was tired of

the games. A few minutes ago he had been laying in a jungle with his arm cut

open and his skull cracked. It rained on his parade. And to top it off he was definitely sober again. "Alright Mowgli.. drop the Yoda-act.. if there's a point to all of this, then get to it."

The figure seemed untouched by the outburst. "Then think. You've been here before."

"The fuck I have."

"Your mind can't remember it, but your body does. Why not let it remember?"

The room started spinning violently. All he could do was to plant his feet on the ground, hoping not to fall. "What the hell... are you.. doing with.. me.." He had to fight to get the words out. His hand found a wall to support

him on, but soon he had to place the other there as well in order to stop from falling.

"I'm doing nothing"

Gritting his teeth he looked in what he hoped was the direction of the stranger. "The hell... you... aren't.."

"It will stop soon."

And it did. Before Baile could blink the sensation was gone, much like it had never been there. The corridor had vanished, replaced by a much larger chamber, lined with statues. Statues he had seen before.

The stranger watched Baile's face closely. "That's it.." he whispered. "Let your body remember.."

The words went by unnoticed by Baile. He was too concentrated on what he was

seeing. The statues pictured a species he had only limited experience of - Hydrans. Slowly he crossed the stone floor, not sure where to start looking.

His brain did what it could to convince him this was new territory, but the rest of him new better. Unfortunately.

"What is this place?"

"A temple, partially unknown to the Hydrans themselves."

"Partially?" Baile asked while stopping in front of one of the statues.

The stranger walked out to the centre of the chamber, arms folded underneath

the cloak. "They have found the temple, but not all of it. It's mere existence will have a profound effect on certain Hydrans. What the outcome of that will be is no concern of yours."

The last remark was met by a short laughter. "Aww.. now I won't be able to sleep tonight.. "

When the stranger didn't reply Baile turned around to make another remark. Instead the stranger unfolded his arms and raised a finger, motioning for silence. The marine didn't miss the scales and the claw on the finger. It looked old. Very old. "You wanted answers... here they come."

Baile nearly ignored the warning, but a sound made him fall silent. Turning to the sound Baile saw one of the strangest things he had ever seen.

He watched himself enter the chamber.

"Self Realization"

By
Lieutenant Michael Jamson,
Operations Officer
USS Galaxy

The bridge of the USS Galaxy was swarming with crew members as usual. Each officer had his own duties to perform, reports to hand out and tasks to complete. Only one officer froze at his station, staring at the familiar view screen, as the stars passed by one after another. Minutes turned into hours, and still no movement from the crew member at the main operations console. No one noticed the ghost like character, as if he wasn't really there. It was rather odd, that no one approached him during his shift, again, like he didn't exist.

His name was Michael Jamson. An operations officer, 36 years old pushing to 37, and still wearing the rank of a Full Lieutenant. He wasn't a senior officer, or department head, just your average, every day plain Starfleet officer, performing his dull duties and following the so familiar routine. No one said the life of an officer in Starfleet were all fame and glamour, but even on the USS Galaxy, one of the Federation's finest, where rest was for the wicked and adventure seem to ever last, the pace had slowed him down a bit, every now and then.

There were times where the aging operations officer sought excitement whenever he could. Now he preferred the tranquility of the arboretum, or the silence of the botanical gardens. Even the peace and quiet in ten forward at 00:00 hours, or one of the opened jefferies tubes, was better then to mingle around, trying to find an vacant seat, or read a book not being interrupted constantly.

And it's not like the worry officer missed any action during his life and service. He saw and experienced many things, from the battle of Wolf 359 to the Dominion war. He participated in some of the famous battles, like the battle of Ricktor Prime, or the battles of Chin'toka, watching his colleagues and subordinates die and perish as he kept on going. He was promoted swiftly through the ranks and achieved several commendations, including a command of his own. The only difference was...that he didn't leave a mark, but many of them. That eventually brought him nothing but trouble. Losing all of his reputation and rank caused him to shut himself and perform his duties without asking too many question. No more initiatives or excelling beyond what needed to be done. He simply tried not to stick out or excel in too many things, in order not to attract attention. It was a major problem for him, since he was a troublemaker by choice and a true headstrong or persistent type of person.

For quite some time now, he looked back and tried to self criticize himself. Trying to make amends, or improve oneself wasn't easy. He stumbled many things he didn't like, or cared for. Was this his wake up call? the famous crossroad? or a simple middle life crisis. Anyhow, Karyn Dallas must have seen it coming. She already told him, twice, something was going on, but he, as usual, didn't pay attention. She must have sensed it in him. For her, it was a sign of maturity, but him? it was a sign of weakness. He came to a clear understanding, and self realization he was plain mortal human being. A dust particle in the huge, never ending universe.

For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to leave everything behind and embark on a private quest of his own. He had no idea what the future held. He needed to find what he wanted from his life. Would he stay in Starfleet? it was the only life he ever knew, that's what he did, and for the better or worse, he was good at what he did. Actually that depends, on how you looks at things. As far as he knew, he couldn't find his place anymore, and settle down like he did before. He couldn't find that rock to lean on, something that would keep him motivated. This was a new situation for him, now knowing what to do. He always had a clear path laid before him. He always knew what to choose, where to go, and what to do. It was easy for to pick the right road. Not anymore. This crossroad had many ways to turn to, but this time, he didn't know what to choose.

Should he stay, or leave without a trace? the inner conflict didn't let go, and Michael found himself thinking about the issue most of the days, and nights. Concentration proved to be quite challenging, and so was sleeping. A surprising beep, woke the frozen man from his virtual coma. His shift ended with a high pitched sound. Rising slowly and sluggishly from his station, he didn't even looked at the officer replacing him. He simply nodded, and walked away like a zombie towards the turbolifts' doors.

If he knew everything would come to this, he would have stripped away his ranks and pips years ago. How could bear the shame of losing his own ship and crew? that's a question he could never answer. He made it thus far, but wondered again, what would become of him. Continuing as a junior officer wasn't an option. He was far from the captain's chair, or the senior positions. One of the solutions, was to transfer into another ship, a smaller one, an outpost or a station and possibly take the role of a department's head. However, this would keep him away from the Galaxy, the only home on a vessel he ever found, the only place he ever craved to get back to.

Choices, choices...and more choices. If he only had someone to consult with, maybe captain Henderson or M'Kantu. There weren't too many old timers on the Galaxy that could offer him an acceptable point of view or advice. It was a possibility, that he might never go beyond full lieutenant or lieutenant commander. If this was the case, which he slowly accepted, he'd seek life elsewhere and abandon duty, the holy and sacred ideal he worshiped for so many years.

Passing through his quarters, on his way to main operations, Jamson didn't even notice the same old habit. He did so every day, ending a shift, going to his quarters, picking up reports he had made the day earlier, and bringing them back to Operations. He only thought of it, after he left the reports at operations and headed towards the holodeck or one of his 'special' places. Instead of appreciating every precious little moment in his life, he accepted everything as if it was granted. An urge to talk to someone suddenly erupted. A slight panic started growing inside the once brave man. Anxiety started to overlap fear and innocence as Jamson made his ways through the halls of the large galaxy class starship. He felt lost, and finally realized he needed some help.

OOC: This follows directly on from "Being Nosy" and ends Kimberly's time downplanet, sorry it took so long to get out. Back on board for anyone who needs post mission medicals (or counselling) a chat, or just a plain old fashion 'let's get wasted in the bar' JP :) Robert S

"Run Away.!"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer - USS Galaxy

Na'Toha Medical Doctor - Jem'Hadar Colony

Tru'Haran

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

Stepping back so she was in the doorway Kimberly looked around with some concern as she recalled with extreme clarity not only exactly where she was, but also who she was with and who the figures were walking around on the lower levels with their big guns, "Na'Toha, I think I should be going," she said sweetly, "thanks for the tour, nice talking with ya," she said swiftly, even as Na'Toha shimmered in the dim light and shrouded right before her eyes, "oh yeah, time to go!" she decided, turning she tapped her commbadge as she did so, only to receive the muted chirp that signified no receiver in range.

~ Great! ~

Hearing something, and not being sure exactly what it was she decided that discretion had long since ceased to be the better part of valor and started running, only to find herself rebounding off something invisible after a few steps, unable to stop herself from falling she sprawled on the floor before the Jem'Hadar who dropped his shroud as she collided with him.

~ Go'se! ~ she swore silently as another Jem'Hadar appeared right beside the first, ~ Definitely not good! ~

"Human!" The Jem'Hadar rumbled in a deep basso tone, "you will surrender or die!" he ordered, pointing his rifle at her.

Recalling the various nasty agents the Dominion had a habit of adding to the polaron beam weapons they carried Kimberly simply held up her hands, ~ Some choice! ~ "Okay, okay," she said aloud, ~ Dying really isn't on my list of things to do today. ~

Sitting there she watched as the two massive reptilian creatures conversed in low tones, indicating she should stand they indicated the massive door, "Proceed through the door," one of them ordered.

Standing and doing as ordered Kimberly considered her current predicament, ~ Well I guess Na'Toha wasn't all I thought. ~ she started to think, just as a ruckus erupted behind her.

Instinctively ducking she hit the floor just inside the door and rolled so that the massive wall was between her and whatever was happening, hearing several blasts from the polaron weapons, and several other sounds that reminded her of bone striking bone she waited for a moment for whatever was happening to finish and poked her head around the door frame.

Much to her surprise she saw Na'Toha stood over the two male Jem'Hadar, a hypo in one hand, and a large brick in the other, "It seems there's more going on here than I know about," she admitted, "shall we go before these two are missed?"

"Sounds good," Kimberly agreed, "I take it this isn't one of your standard cloning sections then?"

Helping Kimberly up Na'Toha bent over and picked up the two Polaron rifles, "We only maintain a small cloning facility in the medical complex above. This, this is huge. it's the sort of facility that the Vorta would maintain for troop replenishment, not the sort of thing we'd need," she admitted, offering one of the rifles to Kimberly.

Shaking her head, "No thanks, never had much use for one," she said, indicating the rifle, "shall we go? We can perhaps continue this someplace safer?" she asked as she started back the way they had come, "don't suppose you can shroud me as well as yourself?" she asked as they trotted back up the corridor, away from the still open door.

"You're too big," Na'Toha explained simply as they left, scanning the corridor around them as they worked up to a run.

"First time I've been told that!" Kimberly admitted as she tried her commbadge again, "usually the doc's tell me I need to put on weight!" she said slightly sarcastically. Getting a response from her badge she tapped the Jem'Hadar on her back, "Woah there!"

"Sorry?"

"Terran colloquialism," Kimberly replied simply, tapping her communicator, "Burton to Galaxy, two to beam up," she ordered, "let's sort this out topside shall we?"

"Agreed!"

"Eve of Destruction" Part 1

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

Soundtrack : Sounds Like a Melody / Alphaville

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

Eve stood firm like an oak, her arms folded in defiance. Defiance against the universe, against her past, against the ugly and supposedly high-ranked Hydran in front of her. If she was frightened by her vulnerable position – being in a Hydran top-secret facility surrounded by armed enemies of her people without backup and without any way to escape in case the Hydrans change their mind – it wasn't visible.

"Did you find our merchandise satisfactory?", She inquired simply.

The Hydran Gharashk'Mev made some obscene facial expression. Even assumed that it meant 'yes'.

"Good, in that case you can pay us the rest using these accounts and contact points, just as was settled with the Fox.", she concluded, offering a small hand-held computer to one of the Hydran guards. She then faced the Hydran Gharashk'Mev one last time. "Until next shipment, then."

"Until next shipment.", The Hydran's chatter translated through the UT.

Neither of them wished each other good luck, nor shook the other's hand. This was business, and it didn't require friendship or politeness. Only supply and demand. The Hydrans needed several cybernetic parts, since they were behind on cybernetic technology, and the Bental family could supply these parts since they had contact with some of the top robotic manufacturers of the Alpha Quadrant. It was that simple.

She turned their back on the Hydran delegation and headed toward her shuttle. Her stride was dignified, confident. She soon vanished inside the vessel, and the Hydrans turned to leave.

Saul took advantage of that precise moment to sneak to the shuttle. He burst forward, his body bent so that his head won't appear above the crates that kept him hidden from the Hydrans.

The door closed behind the Hydrans, and the shuttle began warming up. An ominous sound suggested that its rear cargo doors were about to close. Saul swiftly crossed the short distance between the crates and the doors, and leaped inside just before they closed.

He crouched, and a nasty grin appeared on his face as he realized that his extended experience as a stowaway during his voyage from Utrecht III to earth was finally paying off.

* * *

The face of the junior warlord appeared on the main view screen of the Olor 50 command center.

"Follow the vessel departing from launch pad, and ensure that it follows the flight plan exactly.", He instructed.

"Eliminate?", The facility's commander, a Hydran female, inquired simply.

"No. It's the Human merchant. I just want to make sure that she doesn't try anything."

"We are taking a great risk dealing with the pinkskins.", The facility commander told him. It wasn't common for her to express her concerns, especially in front of the Gharashk'Mev. He was her superior, not her comrade. She didn't want him to think of her weak.

"You need to understand their attitude. It's not easy with aliens, especially the pinkskins, but this one has no loyalty to her government."

The facility commander said nothing. The difference between Pinkskins and her own people seemed too wide to bridge. But the warlords probably spent a long time considering the possible implications of dealing with the Pinkskins.

"The pathetic pinkskin will bring the destruction of her people with her own hands.", The Gharashk'Mev added when he saw that the facility commander became silent.

"Perhaps we should make her an honorary citizen of the Sovereign monarchy after the Federation crumbles.", The facility commander retorted.

* * *

Saul slowly followed the distance between the shuttle and Olor 50 as displayed on his PADD's navigation system. He didn't want to start too early, and risk making the Hydrans think that something is wrong with the shuttle.

Five hundred meters. Six hundred meters.

Chava.

Chava was here.

Why Chava of all the people associated with his family?

Saul glanced upward and frowned. If god was looking, he could stop snickering and frown back if he wanted to.

Twenty three hundred meters, twenty four hundred meters.

That's enough. Showtime.

Saul drew the pistol out of its holster, and loaded it.

He exited the cargo bay, and sneaked into the short corridor between the cargo bay and the pilots' cabin. His PADD told him that there was one life form in the living quarters, and one in the cabin. He could see the one in the cabin – only brown curls could be seen from where Saul was standing, but it was enough.

He knew these curls.

He gently pressed the door panel to the living quarters, and rushed inside. A man was standing there, apparently making dinner. The beam from Saul's pistol hit his abdomen just as he turned around, and he fell on the floor.

Saul crouched next to the man, and began setting his pistol to maximum stun.

"Saul??"

"Roni. You shouldn't have looked.", Saul said, and changed the setting to maximum kill. Roni was a distant friend, from back home. He was a short, cheerful fellow. Saul enjoyed playing with him because he was one of those who didn't cheat THAT often.

And now he was going to die.

Roni pleaded for his life one final time as Saul recalibrated his pistol to maximum, and vaporized him. He could feel the heat from the exothermic reaction that disintegrated the man who once considered Saul his friend to molecules and atoms.

"Roni!", came Chava's voice from outside. Saul's eyes widened. He failed with Roni, and gave his friend a chance to look at his face. He couldn't afford anyone to know that he was on Vaden. He mustn't repeat the mistake with Chava.

Chava broke into the room, distressed. She didn't notice that Saul was crouched behind one of the two beds occupying the room. Her eyes met the stain that was left on the shuttle's floor where Roni previous lie a split second before the stunning beam hit her and sent her to a forced slumber.

Saul rose slowly from behind the bed, beads of sweat dripping on the folded blanket. He bent over Chava's motionless body, and patted a brown curl oh-so-gently.

The sensation reminded him of Nara .

Then, he detached a small Hypospray from his suit, and pressed it against the bare blue skin of Chava's neck.

* * *

"Disreputable Merchant to Miserable Psychologist.", Saul spoke into his communicator, after he was done familiarizing himself with the controls of the shuttle. "We got a discount. I repeat, we got a discount. I'm bringing a shuttle over the coordinates I'm about to transmit, meet me there…"

Saul grinned slyly at Miramon's response.

Archiver's Note: I hate HTML mail with a passion. I couldn't kill the word wrap without destroying the overall formatting of this post. My apologies to you the reader for having to read this outside the consistent format of the other posts.

Ensign Artim - Medical Officer
and
Ensign Zavian - Medical Officer

with

khre'Arrain Valera t'Serov - Science Officer

"Strange Partnerships"

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

<<Warbird Iaavfi >>

Artim had never been on a Romulan ship before. Well, at least not one
of their warbirds. Valera had picked him up in her personal shuttle before,
but that wasn't anything like this. It was hardly a surprise that Valera, or
her commander, had sent a gruff looking security guard to escort them to her
lab. Artim didn't say anything, just nodded and followed him carrying his
seemingly massive amount of gear. As he walked down the colorful, at least
compared to the Galaxy's, corridors, the Miran looked back at Zavian and
said,

"You okay back there? "

"I am more welcome here than you are," Zavian pointed out, exposing
his teeth in a wide grin. He was partially correct. Rather than a warm
greeting, the Romulan crew seemed more inclined to ignore him completely.
Whether this was because they were used to the presence of a member of his
race, or because they simply didn't see him as worth acknowledging was
unclear.

Zavian was right about that, as the usual quizzical stares he got on
most ships were replaced by near glares from the Romulans. Generally he
didn't get those until after he did something to piss someone off. Perhaps
it wasn't him they were glaring at as much as the insignia on his breast. No
matter, at least Valera still cared enough.

After a couple of turns and short ride in a turbolift, they arrived
in the lab.

"khre'Arrain t'Serov, your...guests are here.", the security guard
said announcing their arrival.

"Good, now leave. We have much work to do." Valera said coarsely not
even looking at the security man, her attention locked on to a console, some
test in progress.

The guard left, saying nothing, apparantly knowing better. Artim
didn't say anything as Valera kept staring. He began to unpack his things as
he was startled by a sudden shout.

"DAMN!" She screamed as she slammed her fist on the console. "Oh,
sorry Artim, it took an hour to set that up, but our blood samples aren't
sufficient."

"Then these should help", Artim replied as he got out the vials that
Zev had nabbed from the lab "Presents from Mr. Raynor. I told you he was
good."

Valera grinned widely as she took the vials and handed them to an
unnamed assistant who began processing them. "Remind me never to
underestimate a human spy again. And hello Zavian, we've not met in person,
but I was part of the comittee that selected you for your...assignment."

Zavain lowered his head slightly to show his respect. "Yes, I recognized
your name." With the greetings over, he glanced around the room curiously.
"What is our goal here? I was unclear on exactly what we are trying to
accomplish."

"To figure out how exactly these Jem'hadar changed." Valera replied
grinning at Artim as he handed over the hair sample.

"And who did it." Artim added. "That much I think is established,
someone re-engineered them. Too many mutations for this to all have happened
naturally even with the Jem'hadar's short generational time."

"Agreed. But our initial tests showed that it may be better to say
de-engineered. There's more things missing from the DNA then things have
been added. Even the females, the Jem'hadar always had them naturally, but
the Founders must have suppressed that. Probably to ensure a lack of
breeding." Valera seemed to have done more work then she had let on about.
No surprise there.

"Yes, of course," Zavian chimed in. "That makes perfect sense. Male have
both X and Y chromosomes, so it stands to reason that a talented enough
engineer could combine two X to create a female." He walked slowly around
the room as he spoke, holding his hands close to his chest. "If these
Jem'Hadar had all been originally female, then the male would be gone
forever."

"Or vice versa. Using controlled breeding through cloning, one could in
essence ensure all those created were male. Either that or terminate all
female cells.", Artim added as he plopped down by a sample analyzer that one
of Valera's assistance had placed one of the blood sample analyzer.

"But why? Wait a second." Valera said in a half puzzled tone as she
pulled out a PADD. "Goran'agar said all their females don't have any need
for White. If there's something on the male chromosome that makes them
easier to addict, then it would make sense."

"But Goran'agar and some of the males don't need white either", replied
the Miran, still somewhat confused at what he was seeing on the screen in
front of him.

Zavian sneaked up behind Artim and glanced over the shorter doctor's
shoulder. It was true that there wasn't much information available, but if
they were prudent, Zavian was confident they'd be able to come up with the
answer. He climbed onto a nearby chair, squatting on it, rather than
sitting, with his toes curled over the edge. With two fingers, he began
poking at the control panel.

"Is there available the genetic structure of a typical Jem'Hadar?" He
asked, craining his neck to look at Valera. "I am not very familiar with the
species."

Valera punched up a few commands and three more DNA patterns appeared on
the screen.
"The one you were looking at is a male from the planet. The one on the top
was the data we had from the original Jem'hadar. The third one is
Goran'agar's data, he was the first Jem'hadar that we know of that didn't
need white. The last one is a female from the planet. I've had the computer
running a comparison."

"So did I, before I came." Artim said staring at the screen. He wondered
how Valera had gotten access to Goran'agar's DNA. He of course had called up
the information Dr. Bashir had relayed to Starfleet Medical. Then again,
during the war there were Tal'shiar types all over the place, probably they
got em.

"Ya know Valera, I'd been noticing alot of sequences that look like
introns in the original sequences that appear to be active in the other
samples, especially the females. I also noticed before many of them a common
non-coding sequence."

"Really? That's odd, I saw some of the same things when I ran my first
test. But what could these genes be?" It may have sounded like a question,
but knowing Valera like he did she already had a pretty good idea what they
were.

"Respiration enzymes mostly, probably the genes that coded for the enzymes
in white, but that's not what really concerns me. Its these non-coding
sequences, I've seen them somewhere before. And they are near other new
genes too, ones I can't identify as readily. Where have I seen these
before?" Artim said as he tapped the edge of the console repeatedly. He knew
the sequences were the product of engineering, a biproduct of a virus used
to insert the active genes or remove others. They were always the same and
always came just before and after a coding sequence. But who...

" Oh, hell!" They both said at the same time as they looked at each other
with varying looks of shock on their faces.

"Well, that wasn't what I expected to find" Artim said as he started to
pack up his gear. "I have to get back, now."

"And I need to speak to the Riov. It all makes sense now, the question is
why." Valera replied. "It was a pleasure Artim."

"Indeed Valera, hopefully we'll be able to do it again sometime. Zavain,
hate to cut this short, but we need to get back to the Galaxy, now."

As soon as they materialized, before even stepping off the transporter pad,
Artim tapped his commbadge,

"Artim to bridge, I need to speak with Captain Henderson or Commander
Kol...now."

"Lost In The Woods" pt IV

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Teyri Jen

With Flight Officer Padma Xiaz
Pilot Anna Lewis

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

Twelve hours later...

They'd seen one of the Galaxy's other fighters fly overhead once already. Unfortunately, the foliage on this planet played merry hell with sensors looking down from above, and the pilot had flown right on by. Corran knew Kettch and Angel would be running a proper search pattern, but that wouldn't do them a damn bit of good if there wasn't any visual confirmation.

And they had no flares.

It also wasn't a good sign that they hadn't seen wreckage from the runabout, either from the the cabin's crash site, or the aft hold's. The nacelles had also separated during the crash, and Corran and his group had already come across them once.

They'd also been shot at on two occasions, once by Hydrans, and once by Jem'Hadar. The Major wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, but it didn't seem to bode well for him and his pilots - or the Galaxy, up in orbit. The only plus side, so far, was that no *Romulans* had shot at them, but they hated the Hydrans pretty fiercely.

Then again, not too long ago, they hadn't been real fond of the Federation, either.

They were coming up now on where his tricorder had indicated earlier that the aft hold of the shuttle was. Communicators were still nonfunctional, so they were going to have to look for visual evidence regarding O'Conner and Lansky - and hope the Jems hadn't gotten here first.

As they entered the new clearing made by the runabout's crash, Corran realized all-too-abruptly that hope was in vain. He had only seconds of warning as four Jem Hadar soldiers unshrouded in front of him and began firing.

"DOWN!" he yelled at the pilots, diving headfirst into the nearby foliage for cover.

Anna instinctively dove behind a fallen tree, as much frightened by the Major's voice as by the deshrouding Jem'Hadar. She hadn't seen the Dominion War, thankfully, but many of her slightly older friends had. At the time, their stories about the terrible, detached killing machines of the Dominion had seemed exaggerated. But she believed them now.

Jen hit a bush and rolled through it, scrambling to find something to cover here. Something whizzed right by her, and she smelled burning foliage. She pulled her phaser up and turned, facing the danger, searching for a shot. Knowing that she didn't have unlimited power cells for the phaser, she took as much time as she dared, sighting along the weapon until she was sure she had a good shot, then squeezed the trigger. It hit one of the Jems in the arm. He practically yelped - as much as a Jem Hadar did yelp - and shook his arm, dropping the weapon. A moment later, a shot from someone else struck home, and he was out of the fight.

She breathed a sigh of relief as more shots began to streak across towards them. One down, more to go. At least it was one less shooting at them. Once again, she took aim, and began to fire. She was only getting one shot off for each two or three the both Corran and Pad managed to, but still...she did, at least, nail two of them.

They managed to get the drop on the initial squad of four, but their quick reactions had easily explained that. These Jem Hadar weren't as fierce as the ones back in the war had been, either - maybe settling into a normal society really had done something for their more ..agressive tendencies.

That however, wasn't going to help them against the even dozen Hydrans that had now emerged from the foliage.

Corran didn't even stop to think this time, he just let his instincts take over. Something fired up from deep inside him, and all around him, everything seemed to slow. It was almost as though he was walking through a dream - he was only dimly aware of his finger pressing the firing stud on his rifle.

One, two, three lances of deadly light emitted from the end of his wapon.

One, two, three Hydrans fell, a neat hold burned through the middle of their heads.

The rifle tracked left, to the next group.

Four, five, six.

Again.

Seven, eight, nine.

The rifle beeped, the power pack was empty. The Trill Major didn't miss a beat as he drew the appropriated Jem'Hadar hand pistol from his hip, and set his sights on the three remaining Hydrans.

Ten, eleven, twelve.

As the last one dropped, the strange - and strangely familiar - feeling began to evaporate from Rex's mind. The clearing was quiet now, there were no sounds from wildlife. Corran stood mutely for a moment, observing the carnage he'd wrought, and then stared at his hand, as though it was some alien thing that had somehow attatched itself to his body.

If he'd looked up, he'd have noticed his pilots were staring, too.

Jen watched in amazement, her almost useless phaser held loosely at her side. Once Corran had begun shooting at the Hydrans, sh4e had gotten no more then two shots off, and they had been too late. The Hydrans she'd been aiming at had already been taken out by the major.

'Maybe he could give me some pointers to improve my shot,' Jen thought randomly, taking in the look of shock and bewilderment on Corran's face, flashing quickly and then smoothing away to a calm mask.

'On second thought, maybe not,' was the thought that came shortly after that.

Jen waited for a couple of moments, but there was no more movement, either from their side, or the enemies. She stood up, holstering her phaser. "Nice shooting," she called out quietly to Rex, still keeping an eye out on the direction that the Hydrans had come from. She would provide them with a nice little target if they showed up right now, but it seemed quiet. Still.

Jen stepped out towards the dead bodies, cautiously, waiting for one of them to make a move. When nothing happened, she reached out carefully and snagged a weapon away from a Hydran, holding it at attention in case any of them were playing possum.

When still nothing happened, she reached down and grabbed two more, loading up for bear - or in this case, Hydran and Jem' Hadar.

"Yeah." Rex replied, his voice, hollow. The expression quickly faded as he saw Jen looking at him inquisitively, and he noted Pad and Anna were coming out of their cover. "Must have been all that training with Krieghoff." he said, unconvincingly.

"Must have been." she said, looking at him oddly for a moment.

The sound of approaching fighters, drawn by the flashes of weapons fire, forestalled any further commentary on what had happened. Four fighters - Vanguards - came flying overhead, and at such close range, Corran's commbadge crackled to life with static.

["Vanguard Three to leader. Major, are you there?"

"We're here!" he yelled, laughing. "Come down and pick us up. Has anyone found O'Conner and Tate?"

["We've already got them, sir. Hold tight, and we'll pick you up."] Three replied, and toggled communications to the Galaxy. ["Vanguard Three to Galaxy. We've found them! I repeat, we've found them!"

Relief flooded him at the news that his other two pilots were fine, and Corran decided that those new Rogues his pilots were flying had never looked so beautiful. Figuring out what had happened here today.. well, that could wait. Right now, he had somewhere - someone - to go home to.

As for the rest? He had time.

"The Quiet Ones"

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Ella Grey

When everything had been said and done, with the reports and debriefings completed, and the Galaxy had pulled out of orbit... it hadn't taken Corran and Ella long to get back to what they'd been doing before they were so rudely interrupted by the planet full of Jem Hadar.

Not to mention the effect that evil mad scientist experiments, crashing runabouts, and insane jungle rescue missions had on one's sex life.

Still, they lay in her quarters - she had a larger bed, despite Corran's higher rank - basking in the afterglow. Ella's head was nestled on Corrans chest, and he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It was... nice. That was the best way Corran could think of to describe it, just laying there and being with her.

~It's not gonna last, kid.~ came the condemning mental tone of his last host, Vorrin.

~Just because you weren't capable of a relationship for more than forty-five minutes doesn't mean I'm not, Old Man, so shut your hole.~ Corran thought back darkly.

She traced his shoulder blade with her fingers. "Should I leave you two alone?"

"Hmmn?" he said aloud, looking down at the top of her head in clear surprise. "How'd you know I was arguing with Vorrin?"

Ella looked up at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "We just made love, Corran. Who else would be talking to you?"

"Old Lecher." She added with a laugh and then laid her head back down on his shoulder.

"Allright, fair enough." he admitted. "And yes, yes he is. It's all his fault, really. They tell you how much your personality changes when you get joined, but you're never really ready for it."

"But where's the fun in that?" Ella said with a smile. "Knowing how you'll change?"

"Well, it's all dependent on the symbiont." Corran replied. "For example, I used to be almost painfully shy. Not to mention agoraphobic."

She looked up in surprise.

He laughed at the expression of her shock. "Oh yeah. When I went to Earth to go to MIT, it was the first time I'd been in space. I couldn't even look out the viewports."

"Oh, you poor thing." Ella pouted, moving to kiss him on the lips. That went on for some time until she pulled back with a grin. "Thank God for me you got over the shyness."

"Absolutely." he grinned back. "Otherwise the galaxy-at-large would have been deprived of my inimitable genius."

"And the end of the world as we know it would have ensued." Ella laughed.

"So glad you understand."he chuckled. "It's funny, really - neither Corran nor Rex expected how our joining would turn out. I mean, I was on track for a nice, boring safe career as a computer programmer before the notice that an appropriate symbiote had become available for me. I'd just finished getting my Doctorate."

He frowned for a moment. "I think they were hoping I'd be a .. moderating influence on Rex."

If she was laughing before she started cackling now. "Goes to show what they know. The shy ones are always the ones you have to look out for."

Ens. Artim - Medical Officer

"Even Memories Intertwine"

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

Timeframe: A week after then end of "Descent"

<<Holodeck 2, Program Artim Alpha 4 - Shivar Estate, Mira, Circa 1965>>

Why was he here again? If one really thought about it one would think that constantly coming 'home' to a place long destroyed in a traumatic experience would be a strange place to come when one wanted to be calm. But ever since he took Ember and Brian here, he actually found running the program somewhat theraputic. Maybe reminding him of what he loved and lost in this manner made him think it wasn't his fault. This time, it wasn't helping.

The young looking but wise beyond his apparant years doctor sat in a room that he thought used to be his at one point. It definatly looked like the decor a normal 5 year old would like, but still well appointed. Bright colors, toys that could be identified as such no matter what world they came from and what drew him here in the first place, an excellent view of the garden below in full bloom and the mountains in the distance. It was as beautiful as any room he'd lived in on any planet, ship, station, or anywhere else for that matter. And he'd been to some beautiful places. Too bad Valera never got to see it.

Part of the reason he'd hoped Captain Henderson would let the two of them work on the Galaxy was because he wanted to show her all this. In fact it was meeting her that made him want to make this program. She made him think, for once, that his past is not something he should be afraid of. She had the same experience as a young woman, probably part of why they were attracted to each other. There was one time they talked about forgetting their respective carreers and moving to Mira to rebuild this house and start a family. Well, Artim couldn't exactly do that on his own, but they were geneticists, part of the challenge would have been to figure that out on their own. Valera, it seemed, was quite interested in the challenge. Life, it seemed, had a different plan in mind.

Like then, Valera and Artim's work had pulled them apart again. That's what had driven the Miran to come here again and again. He would simply lay on his old bed, head on his hands, and think. Sometimes he'd go out in the garden to his favorite spot there. This room though really created the proper environment for what he needed to think about. Did he really want to stay in Starfleet? He could very easily find a way into Romulan space as a civilian, he had before. He could track down Valera and do what they'd meant to do. She might even set her carreer aside for him, she almost had once. He didn't have to lose the love of his life the way he'd lost this room. This time he had control. Or did he?

Perhaps he was never meant to love Valera. Hell, he had a hard time admitting it to himself, much less to her. They always avoided the subject. They'd gotten close and then evaded it as if it were a plasma torpedo threatening to destroy them. Artim had no idea if Valera fealt the same way about him. Why would she anyway? Artim was a man trapped in a kids body, what could he offer her? And she was Romulan to boot!

"Get over it Artim" he said to noone in particular "You'll never see her again anyway so its not an issue. Too much to do here."

It didn't help...it never did.

"Passing of Information"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineering
Lt. (jg) Cora Dobyrin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Ensign Zev Raynor, Intelligence Officer

***Corridors of the USS Galaxy***

Nara walked down the corridor at a brisk pace, holding the PADD 8-Ball had found on the corpse in the Engineering complex on the surreal Jem'Hadar Twilight Zone of a planet. She didn't feel any urgency other than the fact it was highly interesting and she wanted to see what the Intelligence Office thought of it.

Her speed was assisted by the fact that she was well acquainted with the location she was heading. Thanks to Saul once worked there.

Her brisk pace ended abruptly only when she walked into the door and looked about for who she needed to talk to. Also she was familiar with the official or unofficial protocol that you don't move beyond just inside the door in this area. You wait for someone to come to you, lest you get your head bit off for wandering in too far. This was an intelligence office. Need to know basis. As far as they were concerned no one needed to know anything.

After a moment, a man came toward her. A familiar man. The strange, funny man she met in 10-forward. She was almost surprised to see him in a professional capacity. She smiled at him.

Raynor was slightly uncomfortable... something to do with being cramped in a vent for a the better part of an hour and then running to the important people that had to know the info he had just recorded somehow stressed him out a bit, still he managed a smile.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Nara held out the PADD, "Something odd. Lt. Hunter found this on the body of a dead man we happened upon on the surface. It contains a manifest list of a Federation vessel, medical records on some of the key officers."

"Which vessel? And if you say ours I am so going to kick myself..." Raynor said with a sarcastic tone.

Nara shook her head, "Not ours. I didn't get a chance to look at it. All what I know is what Lt. Hunter summarized to me."

"Alrightly... anything else other than that?" Raynor asked.

"Well, and the fact they have a room with lots of technology and using it for something other than what I guess it should be used for. This was an Engineering Complex and they were mad that we were in that room. When they did leave us alone, it was in a room with a dead man." Nara nodded her head at the PADD, which brings us back to that."

"Not on the tour I take it?" Raynor joked before saying. "We're going to have to report this to one of the big ugly boss men. Either mine or that Klingon guy, that I have yet to meet and piss off in 5 second, or the Cap'n."

Nara looked at him oddly and before she could respond, another person walked over.

Cora exited her office to find Lt Roswell standing there. "What can I do for you?" It looked like the engineer had something on her mind which led to a valid reason for seeking out Galaxy's Intelligence staff. Dobyrin also noticed that Raynor was with her.

Nara nodded at the PADD that Raynor held, "I've come to place this in your care for whatever you can get from it. Things in the Engineering Complex are very suspicious."

"Care to elaborate on that? Complex as in how Lieutenant?" she inquired. "Ensign Raynor what's your take on the info on this PADD that I haven't had a chance to look at yet."

Nara tried not to laugh, "The Engineering Complex is the building. They are using technology for strange things and a dead man had this PADD on him. A PADD that contains Federation information and DNA data from several prominent officers."

Raynor had about 5 seconds come up with something, "I'm only about 15 seconds ahead of you boss." Buying for time before going into a small rant. "The question I'm asking is how old is the medical report ... if it dates back to the Dominion War, I wouldn't be too concerned that they have it, if its more recent, than yes there is cause for concern... the engineering complex, while I hate to be overly optimistic, they could easily be just experimenting with new technologies that they believe they might need later on down the road. I would think defense would be one of the primary concerns of these Jem'Hadar because regardless of whatever political ties they make with us, the Romulans, the Hydrans, they still have the Dominion gunning after them if they ever find out. Even if the Dominion doesn't act on it directly... once a loyal Jem'Hadar finds out the hunt will be on."

Raynor took a breathe and let his words hang in the air for a second before continuing, "I'm not going to say that we can trust the Jem'Hadar at their word, yet, but we can definitely... trust them to do whatever they feel is necessary to uphold the ideal that Jem'Hadar can be free from the Dominion. The only thing I don't really like is the dead guy. Chances say that he died recently if he had a padd in his hand."

Raynor ran a quick run through what he knew in his head, and gave the Chief is pre-analysis. "If I had to guess, the dead guy is a Deep Space 5 Dithparu runner. Given the probability that he died recently, and the fact that I didn't know about this until now. I would of known if he died after our arrival. But that's just my thoughts... What’s the call boss?"

Nara nodded, "His death was recent, yes. But he died due to a hole in the head. And, if I may say, I did say we found the PADD on a dead man the moment you asked me what was going on." She tried to gather all he was saying and looked at Cora for a response.

"This is a matter for Intel to investigate further," her attention shifted from Roswell to Raynor. "What were you doing discussing this in the foyer? You know better, Ensign."

"If you want the list, it starts off with I'm a moron, has I just got here in the middle, and finishes with, no else is around. The main point being at the beginning is I'm a moron," Raynor said with his usual smile. There was no one within sight, sound, smell, sixth sense or what Raynor referred to as causal telepathic range besides the three of them. "If you want we can always step into the office now, and pray that the somebody doesn't go through the task of annoyingly go through the task of praying no one heard us. Even though it’s our own ship. Oh is it at all possible to postpone the long winded speech?"

Cora said as she moved toward a more private location, "Enough of my lecture for now just don't do it again. Now back to our more important matter at hand."

Nara stood a moment, wondering if she should follow.

Raynor sighed and followed, turning to Nara as he did, "You should come too, being our chief source and all, seeing how we can't really work off of those really vague details about how the complex looked."

Nara stood a moment. She shouldn't have insisted it only took one person to deliver a PADD. Yet, how she ended up with it was another question. She nodded, but added as she walked, "As I said, we were just trying to get out of there by the time we found the PADD. We didn't really take care to look around."

"What about the dead guy? Gender, height, rank, uniform color, general body type, facial features, species, exact position of the body when you found him, what he was his expression, etc." Raynor was taking the serious tone. Unfortunately this was intelligence, and intelligence needed details rather than vague pieces of information. Looking at him now, it was hard to see how the man before them now, who was being so serious, so focused at the task at hand, could be the same disobedient, sarcastic, wise-cracking joker that he posed around as 90% of the time. He didn't want have to try and get the details out any other way then direct questions.

Cora looked at Raynor once again then back to her visitor. "We need to find out the details of what she knows not what she didn't have time to find out. The rest we have to piece together. Raynor I want a more detailed analysis of the information on that PADD. Last time I checked this was still my department. Dig up the medical report on the dead guy if you have to then ask these questions if necessary." Her attention shifted back to Roswell, "To accomplish a decent investigation we are going to need more details. We don't work in vague answers."

Nara nodded to Cora, "Yes. I understand."

"How am I supposed to dig up a report on the dead guy if I don't know who he is? The only possible accurate information I have to work on are the finger prints on this padd, which we've all smeared by touching it, unless you brought the body with you?" Raynor turned to Nara. He was stating this without any hint of emotion in his voice. Almost as if he was bored. There were times when he thought that superior officers were idiots. This one of them. He wasn't going to say that out loud though.

"No. But I have this." Nara removed the tool belt from around her waist. No one really seemed too had noticed, but being an engineer, it wasn't terribly out of place. She held it out, "He also had this on him. He was male, maybe six feet. He was on his face on the floor. No uniform."

"One more thing..." Raynor said in a very over the top Chinese accent before switching to his normal voice. "I'll need a description of the guys hair, like color, length, and style and I'll be out of your hair..."

Nara just looked at him, resisting the desire to roll her eyes. "It was dark colored. Maybe brown. Maybe red. Maybe the red was blood. All that would be kind of moot considering half if it was connected to the part of his head that was destroyed."

"If you remember anything else let us know," Cora replied.

Nara nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

"Yes thank you for this oh so interesting analysis job," Raynor said sarcastically. "I'm sure I'll have great fun with this little bugger." He held his tongue on her assumption that he knew the size of the spatter of the blood on the dead victim. The blood could of leaked out lowly depend on how the hole was made. He still didn't have skin color, or if the body had stiffened up with rigor mortis yet but he didn't want to push the point any further. Raynor wanted to ask these sorts of questions but of course his "superior" officer had just given Nara permission to leave. But he had enough to start, he could always ask at a later date.

These were things that he noticed naturally and reported naturally, so he couldn't expect an Engineer to pick up on everything regardless of how insignificant it seemed.

Nara glared at him, "I will state again, Ensign," She resisted the urge to sarcastically emphasize the Ensign. "There was little to go by and we were trying not to get killed. Feel free to go back to the planet and ask the Jem'Hadar to let you take a look!"

"That wasn't meant to insult you," Raynor said mildly shocked. "I was talking about the amount of paper work I'll have to do... I hate paper work with a mild neglect."

Before Nara could respond or Cora could interject, an ensign walked by and looked at Nara strangely. The look she gave him made him answer quickly and cautiously, "Um, you might wanna get that looked at." He pointed to her injured shoulder before he walked off in a hurry.

She looked down and the two had already gone into the office and she decided to let the arrogant twerp alone. For now.

She made her way to sickbay.

"The Barbershop"

By: Aren Furai
Korr Shadin

==--==

Aren Furai was excited today. After nearly a month it was finally time for her to get a haircut, and after a long day behind the console of a Federation Starship, she felt that it was well deserved. Part of her felt silly for looking forward to such a simple event, but it was there.

Entering the barber's office, she hadn't expected it to be so busy. Since she hadn't had time to make prior reservations. It didn't bother her that much though because she didn't have any other plans for the evening. Plopping herself lazily on a nearby couch, she picked up a holo-magazine and started pressing through it's pages.

For Korr, getting a haircut was always a trepedatous experiance. He had a hard time trusting someone with sharp impliments when they had four arms. It was hard enough keeping track of one pair of scissors flying around his head.

"Is this one taken?" he asked Aren, patting the back of a chair piled with PADDs.

Aren looked over towards the cluttered seat with an unsure glance, quickly gazing across the room as if somebody would raise their hand to claim it. As if... finally she looked up towards a new face, "umm... I don't think so. I'm not really sure." She paused for a moment, picking up on how silly she sounded. It's not like somebody would have liked to have their seat back anytime after getting a hair cut, if it was empty it was only because the next guy hadn't taken it yet. "I mean... go ahead."

In another gesture of how easy it was to startle her, Aren swayed her own PADD between the small table and the near-empty chair, unsure of where to set it so that she could help pick up the mess. It seemed rather, counterproductive. Finally she placed it on the chair before reaching over the clutter and grabbing a large size of PADD's, placing them on the table.

It was only after that when she realized that her PADD had gotten lost in the stack. She stammered, and considered prowling through them in order to find it but she didn't want to seem like any more of an idiot than she had already managed to pull off. So she picked up another random PADD, almost feeling as hot as her face was red.

"Thanks," Korr said with half a grin on his face. He slid into the now empty chair with his arms folded self-consciously over his chest. There was a lasting silence that hung in the air. Korr felt like he should say something, but nothing came immedietly to mind.

He became unusually aware of his breathing as he watched the barber's hands snipping frantically at the hair of the woman sitting before him.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning slightly toward Aren. "Do you think he's ever cut someone's ear off?"

Aren laughed again, innocently nudging her shoulder against his playfully. Somehow she sensed that he was again being more serious than not, and while her response might have been the best to ease his reservations, she couldn't help but let the words slip from her mouth. "Don't worry, I'm sure the doctor will take care of any potential mishaps." She looked at Korr, "do you want me to go first?" She replied before sticking her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, yeah," Korr nodded quickly, "That's a great idea. Better you than me." He pretended to fluff his non-exsistance curls with a coy smile on his face. "I'm way too pretty to scar for life." he joked. Finally he burst into a short laugh. "Naw, I'm just kidding. But seriously, you go first."

Aren laughed, "You ain't that pretty..."

Korr looked away, pointing his chin into the air. "Luckily for you I'm far too secure with myself to be affected by your vicious lies." He crossed his arms and legs and went back to watching the barber at work, wincing at every snip of the scissors.

"Eh-heh..." Aren replied, crossing her arms and legs together as well and diverting her attention towards a small spot across the room. For some reason she couldn't stop smiling, perhaps it was because she was simply having a good time, as well as her first opportunity to socialize with members of the Galaxy's crew since her coming aboard. "So... what are you doing after shift?"

Korr tilted his head and thought for a moment. "Well, I was probably going to give a couple friends of mine some grief about being caught en coitus in the transporter room." He laughed, but there was a slightly uncomfortable edge to it.

"Oh?" Aren asked curiously, leaning forward in her seat a bit.

"That just about sums it up," Korr said before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "What I wouldn't give to ave been there to see it, but I was still out in my fighter at the time."

Aren gave him an annoyed glance, "I'm still confused..." she replied evenly, sticking her tongue out at him. She couldn't figure out what he meant by the term 'en coitus' meant, maybe it was some alien language she never heard of. Judging by his approach though, she supposed the issue was more light hearted and humorus than anything else. "... what would you have seen that would have made it so worth it?"

Korr stared at Aren for a moment as though something was growing out of her head. "They were having sex," he said, louder than he meant to, but he ignored the drifting eyes that were suddenly on him.

"At least, that's what I heard," he continued, leaning back in his chair.

Aren's brows widened as she finally pieced together what he had been trying to explain to her. Sometimes there were points like this where she found herself frustrated because she couldn't understand the manners of speech most humans and aliens used. "Oh..." she replied quietly, "I'm sorry I uh... didn't understand what you were trying to say." Could she feel herself getting a little red? Yeah, this sort of stuff wasn't something she really ever talked about, it just never came up. So naturally, when it did come up, it was hard for her to speak. "So... does that bother you? That they did?"

She certainly wasn't about to ask who these people were... heaven forbid she ever bump into them in the corridor knowing any better. She'd be more likely to grow wide eyed and start pointing at them as if they were criminals or something.

Korr let out an awkward laugh. "Why would it bother me?" he asked, shifting in his seat. Although he played dumb, he could think of a few reasons. Ember was a close friend, after all, and he didn't think he wanted to see her in such a compromising position. As for Ayden, well, that was another story.

Aren wasn't exactly the best at reading people, but she had a definate hunch that Korr was being... less than honest. She heaved an internal sigh, bobbing her feet back and forth from the seat like a small child for a few moments before she flashed a sudden smile. "Well... if you end up not meeting up with your friends, give me a call, ok?"

Korr sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then let it go with a pop. "Well, sure, but you're going to have to tell me your name first." He grinned at Aren as charmingly as he could.

Aren looked up for a moment, realizing that she hadn't quite gotten his name yet either. It was kind of embaressing, but the fact that they were able to have a conversation this long without so much as knowing each other's name, that couldn't be a bad sign. "I'm Aren... you are?"

"I'm Korr," the Trill said, shifting in his chair so he could offer Aren his hand to shake. He glanced over to the barber who was brushing up the hair of the departed guest. "Looks like you're up soon," he said. "Should I call sickbay and have someone on standby in case you lose an ear?"

Aren smirked, sticking her tongue out at him again. In all honesty it was a pretty childish thing to do, but a little quirk of hers that stayed with her until adulthood. "I'll be fine, you on the other hand..." And with that, the barber called up the next person which happened to be her. She grinned, looking at Korr. Pretending to close her eyes tightly out of panic, she crossed both her fingers and held them up so that he could see. "Wish me luck." She said, winking at him on her way over.

"The Great Purge" - Part 1

In a dimly lit cavern set into the heart of the mountain landscape to the west of the major settlement of the Jem`Hadar colony on Junction, there was an unusual amount of bustling about by several beings. Running underneath the terse use of battle language that echoed throughout the corridors was a rumble that sounded a lot like war drums. Each hydraulic pump of a long-underused factory the sound of a great beast's heart pumping under the calm of impending combat.

In one corner, there was a large pile of ordered metallic crates, the largest of which were open and tended to by a single Jem`Hadar soldier. This soldier reached into the metal grey unit, and retrieved a long, slender rifle. He then turned around, the first thing we notice, his insertion tube throttling the substance that delivers the addictive drug Ketracel-white to his system.

Another Jem`Hadar soldier halts at the forefront of the first one.

"I am Fourth Tarik`Danur, and I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. We do this gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember: Victory is Life!"

The second soldier accepts the energy weapon, nodding once.

"Victory is life!"

As the one soldier accepts his weapon and departs through an opposing archway, another appears, repeats the actions, and exits through the same archway. This goes on with another, and another, and another, and another...

Further away, in the same cavern, there was a large table, hexagonal, raised and no longer opaque as it curved around in a flattened semi-sphere. Around this table there were four Jem`Hadar. Aroun