"Movers and Shakers" pt II

President Nan Bacco - Pat/Ian

Flt Admiral Victor Murdock, C-in-C, Starfleet - Pat
Councilor James Pennington, Earth - Hawk - Pat
Councilor T'Latrek, Vulcan - Neutral, Laurel
Councilor Kellerasana zh'Faila, Andor - Hawk, Juan
Ambassador Diana Thrace, Alpha Centauri - Neutral, Sabe
Councilor Gravlok, Tellar - Hawk, Randy
Councilor Krim Aldos, Bajor - Neutral - Pat
Councilor Iyskranara'Lainu, Lased- Dove-leaning, Kate
Councilor Eleana, Delta IV - Dove, Dave
Councilor Mauricio Carneiro, Saturnian Confederation - Neutral, Chad
Councilor Dynkorra M'Relle, Cait - Dove, Mek
Councilor Ra'ch B'ullhy, Damiano, Hawk - Ian
Councilor Gorus Gelaminger, Gnala - Hawk, Dave
Councilor Tomorok, Rigel Colonies, Dove - Robert H

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The Ra-Ghatoreii Room
Top Floor, Palais de la Concorde
Paris, Earth, UFP

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"We are here, Councilor Thrace," the President finally clarified, after everyone had offered their opinions on the nature of the issue.

"To specifically address the issue of whether or not to send further reinforcements in defense of the Romulan homeworld. To decide whether the Federation will support a policy that the Romulans are, in fact, getting what's coming to them - or whether we will live up to the agreements we made in the Treaty of Alliance made during the Dominion War, or the Treaties of Romulus and Galavanis."

Murdock had to fight the urge to offer a sarcastic comment here. It was hardly appropriate, but still, the Admiral didn't even see why the matter was being debated. They had a mutual defense treaty with the Romulans. They'd given their word. That should have been enough.

"It is also my duty to report, before this debate progresses further,"

Bacco continued before anyone could reply, "that Admiral Murdock and I received word just before this briefing that the Hydran Armada has, in fact, reached Romulus. Our forces suffered massive casualties. Of the sixteen ships we sent, four were destroyed. The Romulan forces in system suffered sixty percent casualties. We were also informed that Captain Summers - a man several of you know, I'm aware - ordered the retreat of the joint Federation/Romulan force, shortly before his death. He's far from the only good man to die today over Romulus, Councilors. He have thousands of Federation personnel wounded, and thousands more left behind on the planet after the retreat."

The Alpha Centauran contingent bustled about like bees at that news.

Ambassador Thrace remained perfectly calm amid the commotion, like the ancient marble statue she resembled. An aide went running from the chamber.

Mauricio Carneiro spat his coffee out all over the Vulcan councilor in shock. "What?! Why didn't you tell us this before?!" he demanded, in unison along with several others. "What ships? Is there a causality list?"

He ran around the large dark wood table and grabbed the PADD that the President held in her hand and started scanning it for a particular name.

Admiral Murdock couldn't be silent now. "My people have fought and bled and died for that world today, Councilors," the old Scotsman said grimly. "If ye vote to withdraw our remaining forces from their territory, then yuir as good as spittin' on their graves. And ye need to remember - ye ALL need to remember - that the Romulan Empire is THE closest border to the Federation's core. The Hydrans have taken Romulus. If we dinna help them in gettin' it back, within six months, we WILL be facing an invasion fleet, here, at Earth itself."

"More'n that," the Admiral continued, barreling over whichever Councilor it was started to interrupt him. "We gave our bloody word.

If we dinna live up to that - if ye in here, the leaders o' the Federation - canna even decide to do that, then maybe this government isnae even WORTH defendin'."

T'Latrek turned toward the Admiral and nodded slightly - the only outward show of her agreement with the man's words. Vulcan would stand by those treaties that were made in mutual defense, despite the fact that war was an unfavourable option.

Diana looked to the door. Where the hell was that blasted aide of hers? She was not going to make any decisions without knowing all the information.

Councilor James Pennington, of Earth, remained silent following the Admiral's outburst. A charismatic man, he'd taken de facto leadership of the Hawk party after the death of Jurgen Hoth. He was an unambiguously political creature, and that showed in his silence so far. He preferred to observe, to understand, and then, when it would have the most effect.. then he acted.

For now, Murdock's outburst was telling. The "Old Man", as the Starfleet folks called him, was an unabashed patriot. He believed in the Federation, in what it stood for, and all that jazz. Pennington found it.. quaint, in a way.

But for such a man to make the suggestion that the Federation wouldn't be worth defending... it was a hammer blow in the Council's deliberations.

As Commander of Starfleet, Murdock had far more political pull than Pennington believe the man was aware of. Murdock was an idealist, he knew - and such men typically thought of the business of politics as beneath them. Murdock could have his illusions - to Pennington, that made him a known quality.

Sipping his tea, the Councilor for Earth leaned back in his chair, and watched as the discussion continued.

Krim Aldos, of Bajor, had now been serving on the Council for just over six years, since Bajor's admission into the Federation. He'd been a controversial choice, at first - given that he'd led the Circle's military efforts to remove the Federation from Bajor, that first post-Occupation year.

And yet, he was now one of President Bacco's staunchest allies. And Admiral Murdock's - the two men had worked together a great deal on the Sisko Yards, the Starfleet shipbuilding facility that had been constructed in the Bajoran system, as well as the satellite Starfleet Academy that had opened in Ashalla, Bajor's capitol.

"Admiral Murdock's right." Krim said, his agreement surprising no one.

Like Murdock, he was a soldier. He believed a man's word was bond - and especially, a government's. "I know people don't want war. But we agreed to a mutual defense pact with the Romulans. If we ignore that, if we pull out, it's going to cost us, and bad. Our treaties are only as good as our reputation. If we can spit on that, we can kiss our negotiating capitol goodbye."

"And aside from that..." the Bajoran continued. "It's just wrong. It's wrong, and it's stupid. We know they'll come here, if they're unchallenged."

The Centauran aide returned and whispered something to Ambassador Thrace. She stood resembling Athena Palais with her grace and dignity. "Excuse me, Madame President. I'm afraid I must withdraw from these discussions. I have a personal involvement that prevents me from judging this matter impartially. Until I have further information, Alpha Centauri formally abstains. If you'll excuse me."

"I have a personal involvement, too," Mauricio said down to the PADD in his hands. His son had been left behind on Romulus. He looked up to the rest on the Security Council, continuing, his voice loud, rushed and passionate, "But, it doesn't matter! What are we even doing here? There's no decision to make! We are at war! We sent troops and ships to Romulus in response to their request as per our alliance agreement. The Hydrans have declared war on them, and our forces have met them in battle. We have already engaged them, several hours ago. Legally, we are at war now, whether we send more troops or not."

"But, that's not the point, is it?" he said, looking at Murdock.

"Romulus is no longer a fortress we are debating whether or not to hold. Its become a rescue operation. Not 'do we save the Romulans?'

but, 'do we rescue our own men?' The answer is obviously yes."

"Madame President, if I may?" The small woman from Delta IV rose as Nan Bacco nodded her approval. "Colleagues - the news of the fleet today is indeed dire. The worst possible outcome has resulted despite the very best of intentions and the very best of our efforts. Each of us here has a personal involvement in the consequences of this most recent Rattle of Romulus, and each of us must share in the blood that has been shed and the lives that have been lost. Each of us, either by our own inaction or complacency over the years has contributed to this day. The Hydrans have always been fiercely independent - but not long ago we shared a common enemy in the Rihannsu-Klingon Coalition during the days of the Grand Alliance. We were never allies, but we aided each other when we could. Later our peoples fought and died together against the Andromedans with much of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant powers."

Eleana trembled, as if cold, but her quiet voice remained steady. "How little we seem to remember of those days! We have neglected any relationship with the Hydrans over the years just as we have done with the Lyrans and the Gorn. This inaction has brought us to this day - a dark day when our finest have been cut down by the Hydran sword - and truly, we cannot even accurately answer the question 'Why?'."

The bald, wrinkled woman turned to face the Commander in Chief of Starfleet squarely and with a look of compassion. "Admiral Murdock, I have only reverence for those who have lost their lives over Romulus.

Their suffering scars us, their loss will haunt us, and leave us weaker and poorer with their passing - but they are gone and must dwell in our bitter past. It is for the living and the future we must focus on now, and sending more souls to Romulus to face an unknown weapon backed with a powerful fleet seems unwise. We need to know more before such an action can take place - more of the Hydrans, more of their weapon, more of our allies... *all* our allies. This decision may be the most important one each of us makes for our peoples - the living, and the honored dead who died for them - deserve our best."

"You would have us bow before those who would murder our peoples?"

zh'Faila practically growled at the weak-kneed bald-head, "Those who conquer and murder, those who will soon turn on us?" She spun around, addressing the room-at-large. "I remember not three months ago, a representative from Starfleet Intelligence telling us that the very neglect Councilor Eleana speaks of allowed the Lyrans to be conquered and subjugated by the Hydrans. Will we further neglect the Romulans to their demise? Will we take the progress that has been made in ending the subjugation of the Remans and toss it aside, allowing them to again be subjugated by another race? Will we allow our old allies the Klingons to become vulnerable to an enemy that will be perfectly content to provide them with the 'honorable' deaths? To neglect these friends is to prove ourselves no better than the Hydran monsters, and Andor will not stand for it. If the Federation refuses to stand for the right, Andor will stand alone."

It was a bold statement. Never before had a Federation member threatened to unilaterally use its own military might independently of the other members, but that was the gauntlet that zh'Faila had thrown down; go to the aid of the Romulans and their Starfleet allies, or Andor will go alone.

'Lainu rested her head against a raised hand, closing her eyes as she listened to the chaos around her. Ironically, at their heart her people were a warrior race; centuries ago, they fought and conquered like most races. But now, they went to war only when the time called for it, and only when they knew there would be success. Once they started to fight, they did not back down regardless of the consequences for the other side. She did not necessarily have that faith in the Federation. Never had she seen the sort of all-out warfare from the Federation that she expected might be necessary. The closest she had ever seen was during Borg incursions.

Of course, she wasn't sure the Lasari had the same capabilities they once did. Over the centuries, they had almost Vulcanised, becoming more peaceful and isolationist, and their combat techniques ceremonial. "I do not believe that course of action would have the desired intent," 'Lainu said, though her soft voice was lost in the large room.

Three members of the Alpha Centauran contingent remained behind, two aides and Ambassador Thrace's personal secretary. One aide slipped quietly over to the Vulcan contingent. The other headed for the Bajoran contingent.

"Madame President," the personal secretary spoke quietly, but could barely be heard over the uproar in the room. He looked pale. "Madame President," he spoke more boldly. "Alpha Centauri has always believed that the best decisions are made with cool heads and the best information available. Currently, this council has neither.

Ambassador Thrace has asked me to request a recess in these proceedings, in order that all the Councilors may review the information that Admiral Murdock has in his possession. Otherwise, Alpha Centauri must formally abstain from voting on this issue."

T'Latrek stood a moment later, the only visible sign of emotion was a faint darkening of her eyes. "Madame President, Vulcan agrees with Alpha Centauri. We second the request for a recess. No progress can be made with such blatant emotionalism."

Surprisingly, the soft purr of Counselor M'Relle was also in agreement. "Cait is in agreement."

A loud clicking growl came from the far end of the table from a shortish, toad-like reptilian draped in vermilion robes and furs. "I can't believe we're having this conversation! The fiasco over Romulus was brought about by just such hesitation!" Gorus Gelaminger's emerald crestscales flexed as the short councilor rose to address his peers. "We sent a paltry fleet with insufficient firepower to bear the burden of our responsibilities and promises - admit it! Hundreds have perished, and we quibble in such a manner as to bring about the deaths of more."

Gelaminger balled his small scaled hands into fists and slammed them down loudly onto the table top. "Waiting and complacency has brought the Lyrans and Romulans down - will the Enemy be engaged in debate as to how to conquer the next species? Our indecision is just as responsible for the deaths over Romulus as the Hydran Hellbore and, my friends, remember: the more we delay the more the Hydrans become entrenched. How many more must die or become enslaved? ENOUGH I SAY!"

The saurian's high pitched voiced echoed through the chamber as he slowly resumed his seat. "Gnala stands with Andor!"

Dynkorra felt her tail flick in irritation. She would have found talk of morality more convincing had it not come from a Hawk's mouth. "If we cannot agree at this time upon what action we should *morally* choose, Madame President, Cait would request a short recess to see if we at least have the resources to go to war."

"I second Cait's call for recess," Tomorok snapped out. "I'll second any motion that will stop this before it goes any further." The Rigellian's anti-Federation views were well-known to his peers, and more often than not found him siding with the Doves but if this were allowed to continue, then his views - and vote - would be swept aside as meaningless in the rising tide of emotion. That, he wouldn't tolerate if he could help it.

Maurcio Carneiro opened his mouth to explain how one never had the desired resources for war, and therefore, that excuse for recess wouldn't resolve anything, but stopped himself from being dragged further into the political quagmire. He retreated a few steps away from the table and inhaled deeply, gathering his self control. His son had been left behind on Romulus, status unknown. Knowing their family and their seemingly genetic gift for survival and improvisation, he figured that Thyago would be okay. And due to their family's addiction to adrenaline, Thyago was likely having a good time.

When he refocused on the large conference table, he noticed that the Vulcan, Caitian and Centaurian representatives were standing and withdrawing from the table, taking their recess even though it hadn't yet been approved by the President. The councilors from Andor and Gnala were storming off in a huff, while everyone else was still arguing. Maurcio saw Gravlok, the Tellerite, reach his arm under the table, and he wondered if he was going to take off his shoe and slam it on the table as he had done six or seven other times this year.

President Bacco shook her head with a heavy sigh. She could hardly dispute the need for a recess, despite her own statements earlier. But the Council had the right to have all the current information before making a decision - she'd hoped for swifter action... but that was apparently in vain. "Very well." she said, cutting off the next Councillor who was opening his mouth. "We'll adjourn for a one hour recess for review of the battle report. But when we return, Councilors, I tell you this: We WILL be coming to a decision. This session is adjourned."

"Boarding Exeter"

Ens. Lela Beral
OPS Officer, USS Galaxy

Lt. Gwen Parri
Asst. Chief counselor, USS Miranda
acting CMO USS Exeter

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USS Galaxy

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When Lela came back to the bridge, captain was searching for volunteers to replace killed and wounded crewmen on USS Exeter. Lela didn't hesitate a second and soon after she was heading to the transporter room 1. Her instructions were quite unclear. Help with getting the ship into the fighting-capable state again.

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USS Exeter

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As soon as Lela arrived onboard Exeter, she took one engineering toolcase, that someone forgot in the room, probably after doing some repairs. Then she began her tour through the ship, searching for some work. When she was passing by the sickbay, she spoted the terrible mess there through the doors, which were broken. She entered and looked for the highest ranking officer present. There is one lieutenant. She came to her and said:

"Ensign Lela Beral sir. Do you want any help here with repairs?

"Ensign, you are a gift from heaven." Gwendolyn smiled at her. "We could certainly use all the help we can get over here. I have just arrived myself, but the ship and this section were hit bad during the battle. Call me Gwen by the way, I hate sir."

"Aye s... Gwen" Oh this will be a problem. Lela is used to call her superiors by proper titles, not so familiarily. "So which equipment is most important? I'd begin with those."

"Life-support." Gwen said promptly. "And after that the equipment in the operating rooms. It's working right now, but shaky. I would like to be prepared for further emergencies, Lela." She showed the young woman where the major problems lay.

'Hm, life support, that should be maintained from the engineering. But maybe it's only local, I didn't encounter any problems on the way here.'

"OK, I'll check the life support first." Lela carefuly evaded the addressing.

Then she came to one console and began with the diagnostic.

"Hm, only minor damage on the air condition. That would be easy s... Gwen" 'damned that won't be easy'

"I meant the life suppot machines for the critical patients. I think they are on a diffent system." Gwen showed her. "See the lines run there, Lela." She tried not to smile at the other woman's difficulty with informality. "you are surprised by my request to call me by my first name, aren't you?"

"Yes I am ma... Gwen. I'm not used to it. You know, chain of command is pretty important to me, even if it is my friend in personal life, in duty I address him or her by formal title. Now, let me look on the beds."

Lela came to one biobed and tried to run a diagnostic. Unfortunately automated diagnostic system was offline. So she opened the bed and began to repair it manually. It took about 15 minutes, till she was thorugh.

"I think that should do it. There was only overloaded electronics and some burned circuits. Nothing difficult... Gwen."

"That's a relief, thank you Lela. And I understand the chain of command, but counselors are usually a bit more relaxed with it. We have to forge a bond with our clients from sailor to captain. That is why rank is not so important to me to be honest. Is there anything else you need to look at?"

"You are counselor? I thought you are a doctor, being in a sickbay... The biobeds should be all right now, but if you have something more to repair..."

"I am both actually, but mostly I work as a counselor. During emergencies like this I help out in medical. If you have time could you do a quick check of our equipment now that you are here?"

"Of course m... Gwen." Says Lela, still having difficulties with informal addressing. Then she began with diagnosis of all medical equipment Gwen brought or showed her. After several tenths minutes her work was over.

"That's all now... Hopefully I won't be needed here anymore nor will I visit this place from other reasons. Nothing personal" Says Lela with a smile.

"I totally understand. And I hope you want return here as a patient. We need people with your talent of fixing things. Thank you very much for being so quick and efficient, Lela."

"Three Down"

Lieutenant Jiiles – engineering officer (NPC – Written by Dru as always J)

Lieutenant (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell – engineering officer

& NPC's

***USS Galaxy, deck 36; Main Engineering***

Jiiles ran down the corridor to Main Engineering. The ship still rocked slightly in the aftermath of the hellbore, and what he guessed to be the fabled 'Star-Beasts', last impact. He couldn't believe the state the ship was in. Hull breaches all over the place, power down on several decks, life support on back up. It hade been a few hours since the rumour had spread to him, down in the recess of the Galaxy, that they were turning tail and running away. Part of him was relieved that they were getting out of the danger zone, but the other half knew that it wouldn't be too long till they were back in it again. And whatever time there was in-between they had to get the ship up and running just as if she was fresh out of space doc. And from what he could see through the blur of his sprint was that pretty much nothing had been fixed. In fact more things seemed to be blowing up!

As he ran a console over loaded in the corridor, raining a shower of sparks over him and his already singed uniform, confirming his previous observations ~Who the hell is running Engineering?~ he cursed. Brushing off the embers he continued his pace till he rounded the corner and in through the doors of Main Engineering.

Breathlessly he called out for Ella. When there was no reply he look up from his hunched stance and called out for Dhani… again nothing. The engineers in the room seemed transfixed on what they were doing, either that or still shell shocked. Looking up he noticed Naranda on the upper deck. Climbing up the ladder he shouted to get her attention, "Hey Nara, where the hell is the Chief?"

"Not here." Nara slapped the console in frustration at the same time her face snapped into an ahah expression as she pressed more buttons. Another alarm silenced.

Jiiles let out an aggravated sigh as he reached the top of the ladder. Straightening himself up he came up beside her, looking down over her shoulder at the console readouts, "And Dhani?" he asked tilting his head to one side in a quizzical manor as he watched her 'work'.

Nara moved away from the console to scan the wires below, "Not here either. Can I help you or should I list everyone not here?"

Jiiles would have raised an eyebrow, had he actually had one! Instead his right eye widened a fraction as he stared at the back of her head. "That wont be necessary." he replied curtly.

"I guess that means you have been running the 'show' for the last few hours?" he asked in a slightly sarcastic tone, ~That would explain a few things~ he added silently.

"Right. So can I help you?" She was growing a bit annoyed. He was an engineer. He knew what his job was. Why wasn't he doing it?

Jiiles huffed behind her ~I doubt it~ was his inner monologue. Rolling his eyes he shook his head. "I came down here to find out what was going on. The ship is a shambles and it needs to be ready for our next encounter." He mumbled distracted by the flickering lights on the console next to him. Kneeling down he pulled the panel to one side and peered inside, "Dam this thing is fried." he commented.

Rolling up his sleeves he reached inside and began to pull out the melted chips. "You got any idea where they are?" he questioned straining slightly as he yanked out a fused mass.

She continued working, "Yea, I figured it would be, which is why we're working hard on getting things fixed, so stop talking and..." She stopped realizing he was working on something. She ignored the last question. To be honest, she was too busy to realize where they went.

Jiiles huffed and glared at her once more before darting his head inside the open panel to see what he was working on. After a strenuous five minutes he rerouted the power, bypassing the mass that now lay at his feet. The console rebooted and flickered back to life, a satisfactory hum emanated from its core. Closing the panel back up, he called up a status of the ship, and cringed.

"What have you devoted to primary goals?" he asked over his shoulder.

Nara had moved to another console when he asked. She muttered angrily, quite understanding his feelings about her being in charge, "Oh I don't know. Getting primary systems back up. Life support is being worked on, pressure being stabilized. All those things that keep us alive. Oh and shields. Weapons too." She looked at him steel eyed then, "Stop asking questions and do the job I'm very sure you know to do."

Wo, wo, wo! Jiiles turned sharply on Nara, grabbing her arm and whipping her round to face him. "First off, don't take that tone with me, I outrank you for a dam start!" he said clipped, his blue eyes flamed as they burned into her. He was getting extremely fed up with junior officers taking out their frustrations of being thrust in command on him!

"If you have been left in charge of Engineering, then that's fine with me. But even the Captain speaks to me with more respect than you are showing me, and in turn I respect him for his rank, knowledge and the position he holds on this ship, and that respect travels all the way down the chain. It doesn't stop just because a young pup gets to hold the rains while the brass is out of the room. You got that?"

She yanked her arm from him, "Then let me do my job! Give suggestions if you feel need to, but don't be condescending. There's no time for it." She went back to the ladder and climbed down.

Jiiles followed her, he'll be dammed if this conversation was over just cause she chose to walk away!

Pulling her aside into a slightly darkened corner, after descending the ladder, he eyeballed her. "There is time, Nara. We have pulled out of the fighting to regroup. You need to gather your thoughts and send out parties to work on specific areas by order of priorities. Personally I would say main power, as I know some decks are down, followed by life support, as you said, and on to our defensive and offensive systems; weapons shields and so forth. As the one in command you need to take stock of what is working and what isn't, whose on what job, you need to know where everyone is….." he shook his head. What was the point? Ella and Dhani were probably going to be back from whatever they were fixing. Nara was still just another body like him. Letting go of her arm he pushed it slightly, not really intending to, but it was almost as if he dropped it in disgust.

Shaking his head once more he rolled his eyes and turned away from her.

To his left the main doors opened and Tae'ben, the Romulan engineer appeared looking quite fraught.

"You alright?" Jiiles asked side stepping him to give him room before the man just careered right into him.

The Romulan nodded, then just as quick shook his head, "Ella is in sick bay…it's serious. Her heart stopped…" he trailed off the shock still evident in his eyes.

Jiiles' eyes widened in disbelief, "What happened?" he asked, his expression matching Tae'bean's.

"She was electrocuted when the console shorted. I found her and took her down to sick bay. I couldn't stay… too much work to do." he mumbled beginning to move forward in a zombie like state.

Jiiles stopped him and glanced over to Nara his face was a picture of concern.

Nara's face was a bit more stern, a bit more serious.

Jiiles nodded and tapped his com badge, "Jiiles to Eshe?"

There was no response. Jiiles face contorted, he felt a pang in his gut. "Jiiles to Eshe?" he said again, praying that there was just a break down in the com relays for that second.

When there was no response for a second time that knot twisted inside him. "Computer locate Lieutenant Eshe." he commanded beginning to tremble.

=^= "Lieutenant Eshe is not on board." =^= the computer responded.

Jiiles stared at Nara, his face paled.

Nara pursed her lips, "I'll do as you suggested, but I've got to do it now."

Jiiles stared at Nara's lack of concern for her commanding officers. His brow furrowed as his fury raged. "Where did she go?" he demanded his eyes burning holes into the petite form of Naranda.

Nara sighed, "Deck 11. There was a hull breach. She also intended to go fix the power loss in decks 10 to 14." There was concern in her voice, but she had to keep that aside for now.

Jiiles eyes widened even more, "Naranda," he said coldly, "the emergency forcefields failed on deck 11. That entire section has been exposed to space for over an hour now. The power is still out on those decks…." he trailed off when he realized what he was saying. He felt a rising chill through his bones as his own words sunk in. His face fell, his hands began to tremble.

"Wings of Salvation" Part Two

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Second Platoon CO, SFMC – USS Galaxy
Lt (Jg) Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe – Engineering assistant – IKS T'Kengra
Mortan, Son of Kraldo, Chief Medical Officer - IKS T'Kengra (written by Rob Snow)
Michael McDowell, Federation civilian engineering specialist

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering, USS Galaxy

Ensign Keldan, Operations officer USS Galaxy

(Set one day after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulas')

**** Medical Bay, IKS T'Kengra****

"Um... Thanks for the rescue then. What happened to the other guy, Keldan? Oh wait... You said there was four of us?"

Kala nodded.

"And they are all okay too?"

Kala winced, as if the question caused her pain. In fact it did. Unbeknown to the man before her, her twin sister lay in a bed not two down the row from his own. And she had not woken up yet. "You were all hurt pretty badly." she fudged the state the others were in. "You are the first one to wake up. But the others are stable." she added hopefully.

Steven shook his head at his stupidity. How could he be so forgetful. "Sorry, forgot to say, my name is Steven Jonas, Marine with the Galaxy's Furies Detachment."

Kala smiled, "I know, I already looked you up. Out of the four of you, you are the only one that I don't know." She cast an eye over the other beds looking for any signs of consciousness. "I met Michael McDowell on Trill earlier this year. He is a friend of my sister." she explained, "And Kel, over there," she nodded towards his bed, "is also a friend of hers, we went to the Academy together. Nishta, my sister, is just over there." She pointed but then waved her hand indicating for him not to look as she didn't want to aggravate his injuries.

"When I saw what was happening to the Galaxy I couldn't just sit back and hope that she was going to be okay. I had to intervene, and I am glad that I did, to hell with the consequences." she said quietly, more for her own benefit than his.

"Oh and I am Kala." she added quickly almost forgetting, "Lieutenant Junior Grade Chandrakala Eshe, serving on the T'Kengra as an exchange officer since the dominion war." she informed him with another flash of her pearly whites.

Steven nodded. "Nice to meet you Kala. I haven't met too many exchange officers during my time in the marines. And none with long firey red hair." He added with a smile.

"I like to stick out from the crowd." she replied with a flick or the aforementioned hair and a sly smile.

"You sure do." Steven muttered to himself, admiring everything about her. Even her Trill spots looked sexy. Though it did remind him of the fact that he was only a half-breed.

Kala arched a crimson eyebrow at him.

"Sorry, I was just saying to myself, that you sure do stick out in a crowd." he replied. "In a good way, I mean." he quickly added.

Kala grinned slightly lowering her head so her hair covered her mock bashful smile. "It's a twin thing," she explained, "when there are two of you in the galaxy that look identical, one of you has to find a way to stick out. Ya know, so when I go and do something heroic it doesn't get recorded in history under my sisters name!"

Steven smiled. "With hair like that, I doubt anyone would confuse the two..."

A groan from down the way gave Steven pause. It sounded like someone else might be waking up. He watched through sleepy eyes as the doctor, Mortan, if he recalled correctly, walked over to check up on the owner of the groan. Kala too, had turned to see who it was.

Standing over Dhanishta, Morton ran his tricorder over her abdomen where he had removed a very sharp piece of the Galaxy that had impaled her on her way off the ship. Satisfied that the internal bleeding had stopped he gave her a couple of quick shots to help stave off any infection and the slapped her face none to gently, it wasn't as satisfying as slapping the Trill who really annoyed him, but since she had the same face it was almost the same. "Wake up!" he ordered.

"Mortan!" Kala chided glaring at him. Although she couldn't help but watch in anticipation to see if his 'technique' actually worked!

Dhanishta's face contoured as the light penetrated her eyes. The smart from the slap seemed nothing in comparison to the pain the rest of her body was in. "A pleasure as always Moraton." she mumbled groggily as she opened her eyes.

Squinting up at him she allowed a small smile of greeting to flitter across her face before the grimace took over. She hadn't seen him in a while. Not that she really cared to. Mortan was notorious for being a grumpy ass; they didn't get on that well.

Kala stepped forward and took Dhani's hand, "You had me worried there." she confessed, her body now relaxing finally, the knot in her stomach dissipated. Only to be replaced with a worry-knot over the reprimand she was going to get from Qel and Starfleet.

"She will live," Mortan assured Kala, "assuming she does nothing stupid in the next few hours to make a liar of me," he muttered as he scanned her again, "I had to remove a large piece of the Galaxy from your gut woman, and I 'hate' repairing lower intestines, I always have bits left over. K'hest'n tubes.." He added in a dangerous tone which trailed of into incoherent mutterings, something about Trill physiology, women in general and annoying Trill women.

Dhani swallowed hard and nodded through the pain, "As long as you didn't take out anything important…" she trailed off wincing.

"Did you manage to save anyone else?" Dhani asked looking up at her sister expectantly.

Kala nodded, "Jonas is over there," she pointed, "he is awake. Keldan and Michael are still under."

Dhanishta frowned at the first name; it was not one she knew. Pushing herself up onto her elbows she peered across the medical bay.

Some minutes later it was Michael who woke up. He squinted at the bright light above his head. It felt like needles were pricking into his eyes. Breathing was difficult and he coughed hard a few times. Each time he winched from pain. It felt like his throat and lungs were burning from the inside. When he finally came to rest he noticed the few sprays of blood on the metallic bench he was laying on. As he tasted his own blood on his mouth he assumed it had to be his.

He turned around and just stared at the others, still feeling a bit fuzzy and distracted by his pain. He wondered how where he was and how he had got here. The last thing he remembered was feeling indescribable pain everywhere, not being able to breathe at all...no air..., mortal fear.

Ignoring the protests from her body, Dhani got up and slipped off the bed. Padding across the room she paused over Michaels bed. Smiling she took his hand, "Welcome back." she said gently, her eyes misting slightly as she looked at him, he was alive, she was alive; everything was going to be okay now.

But then the memory crept back of just what they had been saved from. She whipped round, winced with the pain that sudden movement had caused, "What happened to the Galaxy." she demanded staring at her sister intently.

"A good question." Keldan sat up on his table holding his forehead, looking particularly perturbed at Mortan's ministrations, but unable to get up. His legs and arms were numb, but he could still feel all his fingers and toes, however slightly. And it certainly felt good to be able to take a deep breath. His eyesight was hazy and his hearing muffled. His headache felt like the morning after a drinking spree.

All certain signs of overexposure to a vacuum. Feebly he wondered how long he had been floating in space before being picked up. Then he wondered how long it had been since the battle, and his thoughts immediately came back to the fate of the Galaxy and the fleet. From what he had seen through the hull breach, he knew the Trill's news would not be good.

Kala's eyes searched the faces in the room, her chest tightened, having just saved them all she knew that very soon their lives would once again bee on the brink of death. For a moment her gaze flowed to the window and the stars beyond. It was a difficult task to tell someone that a family member had been killed, when she was acting Chief Engineer on the T'Kengra during the Dominion war, she had to face that challenge more than once. But to tell someone that their fleet had been decimated, that they had lost the battle and what crippled ships remained, had fled…. well it was lucky that she was addressing her own flesh and blood and not a Klingon.

"Found a doctor!"

In the caves first aid station - takes place before the raid post with Man'darr

Dr. Mathieson

Branwen London

Branwen was overseeing the placement of everything in the new hospital place deep underground. She was getting to terms with her job slowly, still not thinking that she was the right person for it, but coping. Hopefully there would be real doctors here. People that could help her poor patients get better. Not just alleviate the pain.

The shadows of the main ward were deep as the filament of antiquated work lights flickered their weak light. Long rows of wounded and dying made the groans and wimpers of a dozen different races as each suffered the pains of their wounds. Bran looked over the patients - at least a hundred in this ward alone - and seemed to see a single figure in the semi-darkness of the far end of the chamber. Her suspicions were confirmed when the shadowy figure was slightly illuminated by the pale-green glow of a medi-scanner.

Branwen continued with her inspection. This place was gloomy, there were of course no windows underground and it didn't seem like her to be a good place for healing, but it was the best they had at the moment. She walked towards the strange figure in the cloak, he seemed to be looking after a patient.

The cloaked figure was speaking in a hoarse whisper - Federation Standard, but in an odd accent the Welshwoman had become familiar with on the Galaxy and planet Cheron.

"Cor, lad! Quite the blizzard to yer old noggin, eh? Let's take a peek an see if the ol' cerabellum's on th' up 'an up."

She recognized the voice straight away and relief watched through her.

"Doctor Mathieson!" She called out.

The short human turned quickly, startled by the Marine's words.

"Blimey - as I live an' breathe! Lieutenant London herself! Wot's a good lass like yerself doin' in such bad business?" A still sunburned Robert Mathieson cracked a grin at the sight of a familiar face, and a healthy one at that.

"Doctor!" She embraced him. "I am soooo glad to see you. A familiar face and a doctor! Have you been send to take over from me, finally! The colonel made me lead the hospital and I have no medical experience at all. It was awful."

The words spilled out.

"Awright, aright lass! Gerroff! Enough with th' mushy stuff!"

Either he was getting older than he wanted to admit or Starfleet was supplimenting the standard Marine ration with some kind of strengthening agent - she was squeezing the breath out of him! "Easy there, Lieutenant! Really - ye've done a bang-up job. Howd'ye manage?"

Mathieson smiled at the young woman's resoursefulness. "Well done.

Well - things're runnin pretty damn good givin' th' circumstances.

Let's not change a thing. Ye've got th' organizin' o' supplies an'

personnel to an art. I'l patch the wounded - you mind the shop.

Deal?"

"Oh no, sir. You are higher in rank and you are a doctor, you know much better how to do this. I am a marine and I should be returning to my duties.

I would like you to take over the running of the hospital." Bran protested.

"Look again, lass" Mathieson replied smoothly, offering the blue collar of this uniform. "This lonely lil' pip makes me a mere ensign, an' you the rankin' officer 'ere. But yer frettin' fer nothin'! Look about ye - ye've done a capital job with wot ye've been given, an'

it's bad luck t'be messin' wiv somethin' that works. I'll do th'

grunt work, you take care o' th' supplies - administration-like."

The old man omitted only one small detail of the proposition - Starfleet Medical form 65128-13211368. The last time the doctor had made an attempt at filling the document after occupation during the Federation-Cardassian war, he lost a pip from full Lieutenant to junior grade. Still, London was capable and energetic. She should be able to finish it off in about a week - assuming they lived so long.

"So - did Colonel Spoons and Major Peach-Fuzz give ye any idear when we'll be bugggin' out?

She gave him a questioning look. "Doctor?"

"Forkel an' Shaw" the old man grumbled. "Wound up tighter than a cheap watch. I'll wager a day at th' track they're new promotions th'

both of 'em - not that they're doin' too bad given wot they've got t'

work with. Either o' them give us any marching orders?"

"The colonel is allright, doc. And even the major is thawing. They have been looking after me really good. But I don't know what they are planning right now. I've been kind of abandoned here." She said with regret.

Mathieson nodded at the news. "Well, be better prepare fer th' worst.

I noticed the third Romulan on th' left's still bleedin' in his kidneys - I'll get t' work on 'im quick like, but we should be ready t' bug out at the drop of a hat. Think we can scrounge any o' yer Marine buddies t' lend a 'elpin' hand?"

"Just the heavy work. There is a shortage of doctors. I have been treating patients. Some of them died. Doctor I had no choice, there was nobody else, but I know I have made mistakes." This weighed very heavily on her conscience.

"An ye've done a capital job - jus' capital - an' don' let anybody tell yer otherwise." Mathieson paused, and gave Bran a long, appraising look. "Look - I'm not gonna sugar-coat what's happened 'ere. People have died lass - an' more are gonna. It's a fact o'

life in war." He was uncertain of the effect his words were having on the young marine, but thought that the truth was better than false words of comfort. "You can't stop it. I can't stop it. Nobody can.

All we can do wi' medicine is save those who can be saved, an' ease th' passin' o' those who can't - both to the best o' our ability.

Like ye said - there was nobody else. Is this yer first war?"

She nodded. "I just.... it is so hard trying to help people when I have no idea if I am doing the right thing. But thank you for your support."

"S'alright - nothin' but th' truth lass." The doctor gave the marine a supportive grip on the shoulder, then rose to his feet. "I've also got some bad truth fer Colonel Spoons once were done."

"Oh?" Bran was surprised.

The doctor grew quiet in the darkness, then let out a strained answer.

"Some... bad business. One o' our 'fine allies' decided 'e liked one o' the Miranda crew more 'n she liked 'im. T'Ashaya - the Miranda's marine biologist. Anyways, 'e didn't take 'no' fer an answer too well

- dropped me off like an ol' shoe e' did. Now the Vulcan lass's gone."

Mathieson looked at the floor for a moment before his head snapped upright. "Cor! Losin' me 'ead like an' old man! Is Baile on planet Bran?"

Branwen didn't really know what to say so she squeezed his arm for support.

"I have no idea where he is, I don't think so."

"Aye, that's me luck all over!" The wind had been taken from Mathieson's sails and it seemed like the old man shriveled as some form of hope had been squeezed from him. "Well, no use wishin' on false stars - best t' see how th' wounded 're shapin' up. Let's start rounds an' ye can show me wot's wot."

The doctor and marine started slowly walking down the long rows of of the injured, slowly blending into the shadows and the muted sounds of the wounded and dying. Above, beyond their sight and hearing, Romulus bent to the sting of the Hydran lash - and thousands were forced into the darkness.

"Unification" Part the third

Ensign T'Ashaya, Science Officer, USS Miranda
Senator Aehkhifv tr'Khnialmnae Centurion s'Velt t'Rennikh, Praetorian (NPC)
LtCol For'kel Arvellion - 101th CO, USS Miranda

T'Ashaya dreamed troubling dreams. Vulcans, in general, found both dreaming and remembering dreams a troubling thing. Dreams far too often defied logic, defied reason, defied rational explanation. More often, the logic, the rational explanation behind the things in dreams troubled the Vulcan in question more than the dream itself. Either way, she found the content of her dream disturbingly physical, for lack of a better euphemism.

Still half asleep, she stretched languidly, like a cat. Her eyes remained closed and she smiled, enjoying the sensation. It took her a moment to remember where she was, to remember her discipline. It took stretching far enough for her arms to ache from where they'd been bruised when she'd been roughly hauled down to Senator Aieme's private dungeon. Her smile snapped off like a light and she sat bolt upright as she opened her eyes.

She looked around the small warehouse where they had hidden themselves the evening before. Everyone seemed busy packing things up, preparing for travel. The did not seem to notice her slip in decorum and she breathed easier until she noticed Senator tr'Khnialmnae staring at her as if he knew the very contents of her dream. T'Ashaya looked away and blushed green clear to her ear tips.

She could hear her mother now. "You spend far too much time with your human companions and your discipline suffers for it." Now, of all times and places, T'Ashaya needed that discipline and she felt it failing her.

"You should have woken me to stand a watch," she admonished softly.

"You needed your sleep," the Senator reminded her just as softly.

"Watch is what the praetorians are for. They know their duties, they are trained for such situations. In a way it is in their nature, so to speak." He reached out, his hand lightly touching her chin, gently turning her face towards his. "You have no need to fear rapprochement; the praetorians care neither the one way nor the other, and I am of a breed apart even from my own society." There was an ageless quality to him this morning, subtly different from the day prior. "I know fear is an emotion, yet it is also a state of mind much as logic and Kolinahr. There is more to the mind and its states than even Vulcans have discerned." He then seemed to drift off in thought for a short period of time.

She did not move away from his touch. No, touch was the one thing T'Ashaya had felt most missing in her life. "The Kolinahr," she snorted lightly. "It seems it always comes to that. Less than ten percent even attempt that level of discipline. Yet it seems we must all hold ourselves to that standard."

As one of the praetorians turned to approach, their backpacks complete and all equipment stowed, Aehkhifv turned as if he had been paying attention the entire time. A nod was all he gave and then he stood, offering her his hand as any gentleman would when a lady wished to stand.

She hesitated. The Vulcan Tsunami lightly placed her hand in his, as if she thought his hand were made of porcelain. Her slender fingers lighted there one electric moment as she stood with practiced ease, then flew back to rest suant across her thigh.

"I'm sorry." She lowered her gaze shyly. A thousand girls across ch'Rihan practiced affecting such mannerisms with the hopes of winning the attentions of the right mate and on them it looked just that:

practiced and affected. On this woman, for whom the mannerism was natural, it made her seem even more winsome.

"There is no need for apology," he said, guiding her out of the labyrinthine mess of debris and rubble, "not between us. After all, to use a Terran phrase, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do.' You are currently a somewhat unwilling tenant of a planet upon which the guiding force that directs our day to day interactions is mnhei'sahe, the 'Ruling Passion.' " He smiled as they stepped out into the fresh morning sunlight. "While your ancestors shed their passions we embraced them and all that went with it, good and bad. You can't take the good without the bad." He paused here, considering his next words carefully before speaking again. "Forgive me if I trespass into private subjects: are you mated?"

"No." She blushed even greener. "My childhood bond mate chose another."

"Then he has missed a great opportunity, T'Ashaya. I am certain that there was some logic to his actions: Ambasador Sarek even said himself that 'it seemed the logical thing to do' when asked why he married Amanda," he commended as they took a left turn at the next intersection. "Do you know of the logic behind his decision?"

"He is gay," she replied, missing entirely the question that the Senator really posed: Why was it logical that Sarek chose Amanda, her namesake. The ice crept back into her voice. She turned attention to the disruptor in her grip. "And he is bonded to my brother. I see no logical point in pursuing this conversation."

"My humblest of apologies, T'Ashaya," he said, quite shocked. While such tendencies might be more commonly public amongst the Rihannsu, it was widely regarded in poor favor as with most any other culture one would encounter. "Even knowing you for as short a time as I have, I know that it was not your fault."

She remained silent for a long time as they walked. "You are overly polite to say so."

The Vulcan woman cocked her head. Her ears strained toward the sky.

She thought she heard patrols the night before, but she could not be certain. Now she had no doubt. "Do you hear that?"

It took several seconds before the Senator and his Praetorians heard the sound. It was the unmistakable rush of Hydran engines overhead.

The sound was distant, but quickly closing on their position. They sounded extremely low. Fighters, perhaps doing surveillance, or perhaps on a low altitude bombing run.

s'Velt held up a fist and the Praetorians halted, the senator taking his cue from her. The trio of craft passed overhead, their engines screaming in the atmosphere as they dodged buildings and antenna clusters before passing out of sight and hearing range. After a few minutes of no further activity, the group resumed their movement, though the Centurion cautioned that they should probably quicken their pace.

Not more than 2 minutes later, the city exploded behind them.

Photon bombs screeched out from the strafing fighters, pulses of energy spurting forth in deadly packets of brilliant entropy, all headed towards a singular location - the sensor spoofer one of the centurions had employed. The hydran fighters sensors "saw" a heavily armed squad of Praetorians, armed with all forms of weapons of various factions - things that would have been preposterous, had one pilot actually taken the care to examine the sensor readings before they had all been blown to smithereens.

Not to far away, the small group lay on the pavement covered in bits of debris and rubble, though not everyone came away unscathed: two Praetorians and the two individuals rescued from Aieme's dungeon were limp, the odd angles of their bodies and the pools of green blood forming underneath evidence of the close call they had been delivered.

Of the others, Aehkhifv had possibly suffered the most, if only because he had used himself to shield T'Ashaya from harm. Mostly minor lacerations, there were a few deeper wounds along his back. Due to the physical contact necessary for him to move her out of the way, namely pushing her to the ground with his body above hers, waves of pain crashed out from him towards her weakened mental barriers.

She could not tell what pain was her own and what was his. For that instant they were one. T'Ashaya arched under him, her body recoiling reflexively from pain it remembered even if she did not. She blinked from the pain, her hands, her knees, her back. She drew in her breath sharply.

"Aehkhifv." There was something in the way his name dropped from her lips. It was the call of a wounded dove seeking its mate. All other meaning fell away from the sound.

"I beg forgiveness," he said, his voice extremely rough, "I was more concerned for your personal safety." He had to pause as his dialogue was cut short by a coughing fit. "I did mention I have a relatively high esper rating, yes? If not, I apologize for my oversight."

Perhaps there was more to his trauma than previously thought.

"Do not speak of it, Aehkhifv. You must be still." She tenderly brushed the dirt from his face and wished she had a tricorder.

"You're hurt. We need to stop the bleeding and see to the extent of your wounds." She reached for his collar and for the first time in her life she regretted that she had not learned more of the physiology of her own species.

"It is no matter, my dear: we are not far now, and I can make it in my condition." With her assistance he got to his feet, though he had to lean on her for some support. "Atmospheric status, Centurion?"

s'Velt stowed her tricorder and turned about. "Ionized in a 500 meter radius. Sensors will be useless for the next hour," she reported.

Aehkhifv nodded and smiled. "That should be more than enough time.

200 meters down this road, a small shop .... "

45 minutes later, they found the shop he has mentioned, and much much more - at least half a dozen star fleet issue phaser rifles pointed in their direction. "Stand down, Centurion," the senator rasped to s'Velt. "These are friendlies."

Standing before the contingent of marines was a rag-tag quartet: two Praetorian, one a Centurion judging by the indications on her uniform collar, and what appeared to be two civilians: a woman supporting her male companion, obviously wounded if the deep emerald tint to his robes was any indication.

For'kel's eyes moved from the woman whom he could swear seemed familiar, to the group of Romulans. He'd been attacked by their supposed 'allies' on a couple of occasions, and therefore was hesitant to lower his rifle. "Where are you people going?"

The way the centurion looked to the civilians clearly dictated to the marines that the man was obviously in charge. "I am Senator tr'Khnialmnae, and we are looking for the entrance," he paused, coughing hard. When he next opened his mouth to talk, the green was evident, and he could taste the copper on his tongue. "I have been to the reunification underground in the vicinity on a previous occasion, we were seeking it out for shelter and security, and to formulate further plans of action. My companions are Ensign T'Ashaya from the Miranda, and two praetorians, Centurion t'Rennikh and anteCenturion tr'Halen, assigned to me personally by the Praetor prior to his departure to safety." Once again, he descended into a fit of coughs, more blood coming up this time than previously. "I believe I require aid," he commented, almost as an afterthought.

T'Ashaya dabbed at the corner of his mouth, concern evident on her face. "You most assuredly require aid, Aehkhifv. Aspirating blood in that quantity indicates that at least one of your lungs has been compromised. I may not be a physician for our species, but I do understand our physiology." She frowned. "You should not have hidden the extent of your wounds from me. We should have sent the others ahead."

"The praetorians would never have it my dear," he responded, the centurion nodding in solemn affirmation, "but you are correct on my injuries. Now, as we have given our names and intentions to you, would you be honorable enough to give us yours?" This last was directed to the marine that had spoken, Aehkhifv was discerning enough to know that at least with this particular unit, that man was their current leader.

"There You'll Be"

Ensign Faylin McAlister

Corporal Tahna Oram SFMC - USS Hood NPC (Written by Stu)

OCC: Two days before Fleet pulled out.

____________________________________________________________

The end of the cot rose somewhat as McAlister sat down gingerly on it.

Fresh from a shower, her hair dripped tiny drops of water on the green that was supporting her, causing it to turn a darker, ominous shade.

She missed him so much now. The scent of his essence haunted her day and night. In the midst of mission after mission, tending to wounded when she could, listening to their stories, he haunted her. He would not go away from her mind and heart. He was in the sky in her dreams, he was now embedded solidly in her heart, weather she wanted him to be or not. Looking upwards, she failed to notice the newly injured Marine that settled beside her on the next cot. She kept looking upwards, towards the sky. He was still safe, somewhere out there, on that large vessel called the Galaxy.

Time as it will, passes with Faylin McAlister cradled in its arms on the planet. The woman sat on her cot, missing someone more than she originally expected she would. It was not the Ambassador, it was Jonas. Rubbing her earlobe, she inwardly remembered the crystal starships that rested in the corner office, then the large NAVY flag that adorned part of the left side of her wall, desperately trying to squelch the ghost that haunted her. Steven and she were cut from the same cloth; they were in the 'corp', just different areas of it.

She had wondered what exactly what had happened. Had she fallen prey to a Marine? Knitting her eyebrows, Faylin circled the rim of her coffee cup with her index finger, lost deep in thought. Was she so difficult to get along with that a relationship, that it almost had eluded her with its presence? Why, with all that was going on in her life, did she feel the need to form a tight bond with another being?

Was it enough to be alone? There was a time where she thought it was enough. Now, something deep within her pushed her to make a choice.

She had never felt love for another person, other than Olivia and her parents. Yes, she had come close plenty of times…..however, what she thought could be love was just an intense lust. After the lust was squelched, she felt like she could just toss him aside. Faylin was done with him.

Not the case with the dashing young Marine. He caused her to second guess herself, her actions, her mannerisms, the way she responded to people. Enamored was the word that she found herself with. It was not right. Faylin McAlister could not be developing feelings for such a man as he was. He was cocky, way too confident, attractive, had a large mouth, big voice, and all the other things that spelled out one word. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Jonas had to know the power he held over her.

She was a puppet, controlled by the strings of his personality. One jolt and she moved this way. Another tug, she moved the opposite direction. She felt frustration fill her. Why him, of all people, did she have to go and develop feelings for?

Placing the cup down on the floor, Faylin buried her face in her hands, she sighed with contempt. Contempt for herself more than Steven. He couldn't help who is was…..and she couldn't help the developing feelings she had growing for him.

He came to her, every moment of most every day. Ordinary days that were filled with ordinary duties, were smeared by his face, comments, memories, and the smell of his cologne. That damn stuff! Two of the four pillows on her bed smelled like him. His essence stayed, long after he had departed from her bed. Nights spent without him appeared to be endless; the only thing that offered her comfort was the ghost of him next to her in the form of the faint smell on the pillows. She wished, she had one of those pillows to hug now…..to comfort her in the midst of the storm of war.

A decision had to be made. To be an idiot, or not to be an idiot.

That was the query that was posed. Should she admit her feelings to him as a fool, or keep her status as a philanderer? In her experience, once feelings were admitted the person became way too vulnerable. Bordering on obsessed about someone was a possibility.

Hell, she already was obsessed with him.

What made her want to stay with him? One little four letter word.

The word only made her recoil with rebellion and force emotions to the surface, exposing them for anyone that had a brain to see. She was not the type of woman to gush over a man. Far from it. The immaturity that displayed repulsed her. She repulsed herself.

Oram looked up from the cot, his broken arm bandaged and held in a sling, the top of his face covered in a bandage wrapped around his head. He had just had his injuries looked at and was relieved that they had managed to realign the bones in the arm given the rough circumstances that pervaded their present location. Much like the tyrany of the Cardassians on his home planet some years ago, the Hydrans were attempting to crush the Romulans with their overwhelming firepower.

The whole unit was wiped out, to a man. And he only survived due to a little blind luck, and a healthy dose of acting ability. As his eyes rose from the floor, he spotted a beautiful young woman sitting on the next cot. Her hair was slick as if she had just come from the shower, and yet depsite her downturned face, he thought he could see a few tears on her face. "Are you alright ma'am?" he called out softly.

"Support"

LtJG Chris Daniels

Ensign Janeen Jaxom

Janeen had to leave the operations center in the capable hands of others for the time being. Right now she needed some information from Tactical and the internal commlink to there from Ops was still on the fritz despite the excellent engineering crew of the Miranda.

The Trill woman took it upon herself to run to the CIC to gain the information she needed to complete some repairs and re-routings in Ops... not to mention checking on her current paramour.

The doors to the CIC swished open with an unusual, audible squeak.

Once she spotted Chris she made a beeline for his location. "Glad to see you're okay. I need to get a confirmation on some re-routing of some damaged datalines."

The girl behind him startled Chris out of his observation of the replacement of one of the sensor control stations. When he realized who it was, he had to resist the urge to hug her right there. Her tone had surprised him, as it seemed a little too...adult...compared to her typical playfulness.

"Hi, nice to see you too." He made his voice as dry as he could. He needed the entertainment. He had been holed up in the CIC for the better part of the day and was desperately in need of several essential things. Her comfort being one of them.

"Come over this way...all the comm and data techs are over there."

They walked about twenty feet to a gathering of techno-types who were busy scrambling around on their computers. He tapped one of the crewmen on the back and requested the data.

"Sir, all but one of the datalines is back online. The issue is from the line that links OPS, Tactical and the weapons stations together. That should be back up in the next 30 minutes or so. I can direct route that info to the Ops Center if needbe."

Chris looked over to his young companion. "Well, Ensign?"

"Great," Janeen said,."That will certainly help."

After that was done, he turned and motioned for her to follow him. A minute later, they were inside Chris' cubicle. Most of the CIC crew was up front working repairs or damage control elsewhere, so they had relative privacy. He took the opportunity to plant a quick kiss on her.

Chris let the stress drain out of him and he instantly looked more relaxed.

"You make it through that one OK?"

"Got a little cooked but I'm okay... for some reason we're having trouble with the fire supression system in the Ops center. We just about out of primary consoles ..." she went on a bit about battle related things when she realized Chris might have meant 'her'

personally.

He smirked. "Well, thanks for the damage report. However, I can get that off the network. I was wondering how the component known as Janeen was."

"Oh... yeah... I think I'm okay." Her face betrayed the stress she'd been feeling since being field promoted. "My brother said there'd be days like this," Janeen offered a weak smile.

Chris' face went back to being serious again. "He's right. I know what he means. I lost three of my kids today. First time I've lost someone." Tinges of anger--towards himself--began to show in his face.

"I'm sorry," Janeen looked at the floor while hearing the news. Some of her own people perished in the battle as well and naturally, it stilled weighed heavily on her mind. "I'm trying to get pictures of ... killed people out of my head myself. It's not easy. I'm *trying* not to..." she couldn't finish her statement.

"Unfortunately what they say is right..you can't dwell on it...just make sure that the bastards pay for the lives they took." He put his hand out and fixed a stray piece of her hair. He could feel the singeing on the bottom quarter of an inch. Chris could read something in her face...she looked uneasy, like the stress was about to break her. "Look, Janie, we've all been through the stress. It's kinda one of those rights of passage to becoming an officer--"

"Stress? You call this stress? This is 'far' worse than just regular stress! Regular stress I can handle! We're surrounded by death and destruction and you call it stress?" She was rambling on and couldn't stop herself. Tears started welling up in her eyes.

"Hey!" His face almost turned stern, like a father or a coach. He needed to get her attention, even if it was uncomfortable for her--and him for that matter. "You need to get it together and go back out there and be strong. If not for yourself, than for the guys and girls under your watch that are going to be looking to your leadership in a shitstorm. You break, they break, we all suffer for it. There's a reason the Captain and your brother trusted you with this promotion--they knew it would be hard, they knew there would be bumps, but if they didn't see the ability to get past this and do something amazing, they would've sent you back to the cushy life of a cadet in San Fran. Just don't start doubting yourself now, Janie. We're in the middle of a fledgling war with a dead Captain, someone very close to you in charge and a lot of scared enlisted troops. They need you to be a source of strength." ~And so do I.~ He thought as he took a breath after his mini-rant.

"I know what they need Chris... I just don't know if I have it to give right now," she threw hers arms around Daniels and squeezed hard.

"It's just that when you're the one in charge it doesn't seem there's any support for you... ya know?"

Chris drew back just an inch or two from her hug and nodded with a smile. "You're not the only one living it, kiddo. And don't worry...there's a lot of support for you out there. It's just not right there looking over your shoulder. You're going to be fine, Janeen. This is your first time...no one expects you to be perfect."

She wiped her eyes off and looked at Chris again, "Thanks." Inside though, she knew nothing short of perfection would allow them to survive the next battle.

"Realization"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

Major Peter Shaw- SFMC

Executive Officer/Bravo Company CO

101st Battalion XO, USS Miranda

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

Pete woke up in a cold sweat and looked around. For a second he couldn't remember where he was or why he was there. Then it all came back to him like a lead brick. He was on Romulus. The fleet had just retreated, leaving him and the rest of the marines in this hell hole. Not to mention the billions of Romulan civilians and who knows how many downed fighter pilots. This was not he place he was supposed to die. Yet again, he had already died once. Back on Vulcan a year or so back.

He looked around again taking in the area. They where entrenched in a small location near the main city. The plan was in less then 24 hours to make a strike and free a few dozen POWs, mainly Starfleet officers and a few Romulan officials that hadn't made it off with the rest. But none of this is what had woken him up so quickly.

He could feel something missing... something missing on his Betaziod half. Something that had been there for as long as he could remember was now missing. Taken from him. Taken by the Hydrans. But what?

"Sir... are you okay?" He heard a voice behind him.

Pete turned to find one of the younger Privates of his Company. "No, I am fine Private. Return to your patrol."

"Aye sir," the marine replied with a salute before heading off.

Pete stood up. There was no way he was going to get any sleep now. Not with this nagging feeling. He walked out and looked across a small plaza. It was peaceful. If not for the fact of burning fires, the smell of smoke and craters everywhere one would think there was no war going on.

"Pete." For'kel gave a nod as he slid into the entrenchment. "The plans for the POW liberation have been finalized. We're going to need to call everyone still out there in for this one. I need three blocking forces established to ambush and pin down any Hydran forces that try and relieve the prison. We also need some diversionary attacks that I want to put you in charge of managing... here's all the details. Just keep your Marines as safe as possible, and skirmish with them. Don't stay long, just damage and kill what you can with a few shots before running."

Pete looked down at the updated plans. "They look good. Should be able to get in, get out before the Hydrans know what hits them. It will be nice to go on the offense for a change."

"From your lips to the Prophets' ears." For'kel nodded, rubbing his hands.

Pete looked over the intelligence some more. "Where did you get this? It's strangely complete."

"From one of the children I met on that Civil Service run." The Stagnorian sighed, knowing the next was going to be hard to swallow. "And courtesy of mister and misses Jii."

Pete snorted. "You know... I am not surprised. I really am not."

"Yeah, well..." For'kel snorted. "Sufficing to say after serving on the Miranda for many years, I no longer fear death. In fact, it would be rather surprising if anyone on this ship with officer's rank did die and 'stayed' death.

Abismally upsetting kind of surprise at that..." For'kel frowned, the sort of dead-pan, all business, devoid of actual emotion kind of frown that one always seemed to wear in war. "You all right?"

"I have a feeling, something bad. Something missing," Pete admitted to his friend and commander. "Something from my Betazaiod half is missing. Something that has always been there, for as long as I can remember. It's unsettling."

Ouch, that wasn't good to hear. "And you think it's your sister?"

"If it is Sarah, then I have something more to fight for. No longer is it to just survive, but revenge."

"To each their own." For'kel murmured as he started his way back towards the hide out. Turning towards Pete he spoke out more loudly. "We're moving out in twenty, pass the word."

"Those Left Behind"

Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum (NPC)

Transporter Operator

USS Miranda

(Guest Starring Jola)

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

Berilyn walked into their quarters and locked the door behind her. It had been a 'rough' day, putting it extremely mildly. She'd only just found out that her husband had been left behind... those that knew her well enough knew that she preferred, for her job's sake, to be blissfully ignorant of what the Marines were being deployed to do. She knew, objectively, she wouldn't be able to work if she was constantly worrying about things.

And now she was kicking herself. At least if she knew, she could have 'tried', unlikely to be successful as it was, to beam him back up as they withdrew.

Now, however, she'd broken down. There was nothing left to do to keep her busy, to keep her mind on a task, and fear had taken over. On a mantle in the living quarters sat one of dozens of pictures they'd taken over the years...

this one was courtesy of Captain Summers at their wedding.

Captain Summers was dead too. There was the perpetual reminder that if the Captain died, anyone could die to contend with.

Taking the picture, running her finger in a caress over the face of the man she'd pledged herself too, the Trill stumbled to a recliner, determined to get as 'much' out now, in the solitude of her quarter... their quarters, as she possibly could.

Iris had taken her own news with a certain amount of inward glee. Bill was stuck down on the planet, and let him rot there, for all she cared. But if Bill was stuck down there, then where was his CO? It didn't take much checking to learn that the Miranda's Marine commander had also been abandoned on Romulus. And that only made Iris think of poor Bery. What must she be going through? And pregnant to boot!

There was only one thing for it. Taking off for Bery's quarters as soon as her own shift ended, Iris rang the chime insistantly. She wasn't going anywhere until she saw her friend and made sure she was okay.

Were it not for the fact she was with child, Berilyn Suum-Arvelion would be 'quite' drunk by now. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your outlook, that wasn't an option. Everything seemed to remind her she was alone... the vacant empty humming of their quarters, the lack of touch or the sound of his voice. By now they were usually sitting down to dinner.

It was odd how exactly what you didn't notice when it was staring you in the face was the first thing you realized was missing.

Growing increasingly worried when Bery didn't answer, and verifying from the computer that she was indeed in her quarters, Iris tapped her comm badge.

"Conde to Suum-Arvelion."

Growing increasingly worried when Bery didn't answer, and verifying from the computer that she was indeed in her quarters, Iris tapped her comm badge.

"Conde to Suum."

Oh great... talking right now was 'exactly' what she wanted. Sighing, and reminding herself Iris was simply doing what she thought would help, Bery fought back the sobs, although there was no stopping the tears. "Go ahead Iris, what is it?"

"Open your door, girl!"

Damnit. "Computer, unlock door." Bery waited for the chirping response from the computer. "Try it now."

Iris stepped inside and, after a quick glance in the cabin to make sure Bery hadn't been taken over too much by the news, crossed the room to her friend.

Crouching down by her chair, she wrapped her arms around the Trill and gave her a warm hug, not bothering with any words for the moment.

Bery gave a slight, depressed chuckle. "Hello to you, too."

"I just heard. You okay?" Iris pulled back a little to scruitinize Bery's face. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine." Bery kissed Iris on the cheek and gave her another squeeze.

"I didn't even know until I got off duty."

Iris took up Bery's hand and held it warmly. "You know he'll be alright."

"Yeah, ofcourse." Bery feigned a smile. Fact of the matter was she knew no such thing, and couldn't wait to have him back in her arms. "He always is. I just wish he were here."

"I'm sure he's wishing the same thing, and giving the Hydrans hell because of it. He's a resourceful man. He won't be foolish and risk your loosing him."

Iris raised her free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Bery's ear.

"Not that we always have an option with regards to such things." Bery mumbled. "Why not get yourself something from the replicator? You can probably use the coffee I'm sure."

It was no easy battle trying to reign someone back from the edge of despair.

Coffee would certainly be necessary tonight. "Thanks. You sure you don't want anything?"

"I'm sure." Sometimes you didn't 'want' to be comfortable with things. For Bery, this was certainly one of those times. "Commander Jaxom must be going crazy... Erasmus is down there too."

"That tall woman?" Iris asked over her shoulder, only knowing the commander in passing. She took a moment to order herself a steaming mug of black coffee.

"Yeah." Bery chuckled again in memory. "She's rather quite nice when you get to know her. Any rumor yet about when we're heading back?"

"Too many to know which one's true," Iris sighed, curling up in the corner of the couch. "I've heard as soon as the repairs to the shields are done and as long as six months. If you want my opinion, I'd guess sooner rather than later. If what you say is true, that the Commander left someone back there, he must be itching to turn this ship around."

Bery nodded. Jaal would go after them as soon as he thought it feasible...

the man knew what honor was. "How about you? Leave anyone behind?"

"Just my rat of an ex, Bill. He can stay down there for as long as he likes."

"Maybe you should throw a party." Bery smiled more genuinely, appreciating the chance to finally think, and talk, about something else. "We all told you that man was no good."

Iris stuck out her tongue with a grin. "He was good in bed, how was I to know he was a bastard everywhere else?"

"Well when practically every other woman on the ship agrees with you that he was good in bed, that should've been your first hint." Snickering, the Trill stood up and replicated a tray of chocolate chip cookies. If they were going to chat, they might as well do it properly. "He's probably sleeping with every Romulan widow he can find at the moment."

"Hope he catches some horrific form of VD." Iris glowered. "The nerve of him... in my own bed!"

Offering some cookies, Bery found a seat on the sofa. "The more I hear about him, the luckier I feel."

"You found one of the good ones," Iris nodded, taking a cookie and dunking it in her coffee. "Everytime I look around there seem to be fewer and fewer left."

"You'll find one yet. You have plenty to offer." She munched on a cookie, thinking about things. "Just imagine how many available Marines will be returning when we pick them up?"

"A big, strong guy just aching for a woman's touch," Iris chuckled mischeviously. "You just let me know when you start beaming them back and I'll be there."

Bery laughed, clearing some tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You got it. I'm sure there will be plenty of leave time after this mission too."

"Oh, I can hope! I think I need about a month on Risa after this."

"Nice beaches, but a little on the warm side. Can't exactly say I don't love the drinks though." Bery winked, sitting back. "Yeah... he'll be okay. If he gets in trouble, hell he can use Bill as a human shield."

Iris laughed at that, glad to see Bery relaxing. "He's certainly big enough for the job. How's the babe doing?" The Terran nodded at Bery's rotund belly.

Bery placed her hand over the bulge, smiling happily at memories of much happier moments, and a future that seemed bright, even if uncertain. "So far so good. Only a couple of months left to go. He's even kicking..." Taking Iris'

hand, she guided her to the spot that seemed to receive the greatest number of impacts.

It didn't take long for Iris to feel the kick and her hand nearly jerked back in surprise. "Good grief! He's going to be just as strong as his father. How do you ever sleep?"

"On my back." Bery smirked, working her way through another cookie. "And with a good deal of interruptions. I feel sorry for the universe... his father's strength and his mother's stubborness. That's not a good combination!"

Iris smirked. "Feel sorry for him. That stubborn streak will only get him into trouble."

"Nothing he won't be able to handle I'm sure." Bery nudged Iris teasingly.

"Certainly couldn't turn out any worse than you did."

"Oh I wouldn't wish my personality on anybody," Iris nudged back. "I know I'm too blunt for my own good sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Bery raised an eyebrow.

Iris stuck out her tongue again before grabbing another cookie. "Some friend you are."

"Hey, I guarantee you have no need for enemies." Bery chuckled, followed by a long sigh. "Do you... really... think they'll be okay?"

Now was the time to lie with a smile. Setting down her mug, Iris shifted position to wrap an arm around Bery's shoulders. "Of course they will be. They've got For'kel to lead them, they're expereinced, and they've got the Romulans on their side for once - and we know just how stubborn they are as fighters. They won't give up their homeworld easily. They'll make it."

It made it believable coming from someone else... although the worry was far from placated. Leaning up against Iris, Bery smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Anytime, honey." Iris gave her a small squeeze and a reassuring smile.

"Homeric Verse"

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO USS Miranda
Joran - Bartender, USS Miranda

Cantina, USS Miranda

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

The former Starfleet captain-turned-bartender began his lesson with a question of his own. "Tell me Mister K'aa - what have you read of the events prior to the Andromedan Invasion?"

"The General War? Only hissstorical text from the Academy... and what my own people sssay about it." K'aa leaned forward on the bar stool as Joran delved for more broken glass. "The Ssstarfleet text was more technical - the Gorn saga of the Invasssion readsss more like the Terran 'Iliad'. It concernsss itssself more with the deedsss and honor of heroesss than the tactical ability to wage war."

"You shoudn't dismiss good literature" Joral said as he stood up, broken bottle in hand. "Chauteauneuf du Pape 2066. My last. Doubt there's any more to be had." The dust-covered glass noisily joined the rest of the debris as the El-Aurian let out a sigh. "That was a

*very* good year. Ever indulge Mister K'aa?"

K'aa narrowed his yellow eyes, giving the slightest hint of impatience. "No. Human vintagesss, while varied, tassste like sour grape juice, and have the sssame effect. Now, the General War?"

~Persistent. I'll give him that.~ "Who did the Gorn face during the General War?"

The reptilian sat back on the barstool, which groaned with the movement. "Who *didn't* we face? Klingonsss. Lyranss. Orionsss.

Ironically, our principal foesss were the Rihansssu - both plassssma-basssed weaponry. It makessss for sssome interesssting reading, but harly pertenant now."

Joran simply offered the reptilian a slow, patient grin. "I think you'll find that with the Hydrans, everything - especially the past - is pertinent."

"Hrssss... care to be a little lessss cryptic?"

"Not really - I'm enjoying this far too much."

K'aa's nostrils flared and he let out an impatient snort, but he remained seated. "Very well. Hydransss. They faced Klingonsss, Lyransss, Rihansssu - the sssame as ussss and... no. The sssame asss the Federation and the Gorn, but lacking in any formal alliance. They sssuffered tremendousssly under the Klingon yoke - much like the Rihansssu are suffering now. Their homeworld conquered, their Royal line decimated. Only the Outer Coloniesss were sssspared becaussse of their remotenesss." He peered at the still grinning Joran. "Am I misssing sssomething?"

"Why did they suffer so much?"

"The fractured nature of their society" the Gorn suggested. "A Byzantine administration and monarchy, a divided religion, colonies in friction with their homeworld." A shift in weight produced the loudest creak from the bar stool, and it was enough for the saurian.

Faster than his bulk would suggest, he rose and tore the stool from its brass housings in the deck, finally tossing the seat in the corner with much of the other wreckage in the Cantina.

"Feel better?"

"Sssurprisingly ssso - and it needed replacing anywaysss", K'aa replied slowing his breathing from his efforts. "The passst few daysss have been... more than a little frusstrating." He took several large lungfuls of air and held his gaze at the Cantina's tiled ceiling. "Alright, asss I wasss sssaying. Fractured. More so than the Federation. Hrsssssrrrr... more sssso than the Gorn. Otherwissse their technology wasss equal to, or sssuperior than their enemiesss.

Hydran engineering isss ssspectacular, and the effectivenesss of the Hellbore, Fusssion Canon and fighter complement was announced quite loudly a few hoursss ago."

Joran scooped out more broken bottles from behind the bar.

"Glenfiddich 50 year old. The Admiral's going to be pissed."

"More pissed than hissss favorite ship being defeated and half her crew being left on an occupied ch'Rihan?" K'aa asked.

The broken bottle of Highland whisky crashed with the others.

"Touche. So, what's changed?"

K'aa leaned against the bar and closed his eyes in concentration. He remained absolutely motionless for minutes as Joran cleaned piles of

broken glass, crystal and pottery. ~Economics? Leadership?

Technology?~ The reptile's mind raced through possibilities gleaned

from scraps of knowledge squeezed from half-a-dozen different cultures. Finally, the large yellow eyes opened and their nititating membranes flickered once.

"Control and alliesss", he said at last. "Alliess - sssomething the normally independent Hydran culture usssually abhorred. Central control of government with sssufficient motivation for the coloniesss to follow suit, and to presss for the acceptence of new alliesss."

Joran placed the last of the broken bottles - a restricted bottle of Romulan Ale he had been keeping for special occasions. "And what defining characteristic would the new power-base need to accomplish these feats?"

Nodding, the Gorn offered Joran the only definition that would apply.

"One capable of miraclesss, of courssse." He wiped the scales over his eyes as the weight of his conclusion hit him.

Control.

Allies.

Miracles.

As Joran saw the Lieutenant begin to ponder the new prospects, he had to admit the big reptile was sharper than he had given him credit for.

He thought of the Gorn tradition of heroic poetry for records of recent historic fact, as well as K'aa's comments of the Iliad.

~Interesting choice. I wonder what sacrifices our Mister K'aa's willing to make to gain the favor of the gods.~

"Something is not right ... "

Doctor Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Ella Grey, Chief Engineer
Nurse Arietty

* * *

Main Sickbay - USS Galaxy

* * *

White light, bright and hot. Stinging and sharp.

Ella groaned slightly, then closed her eyes, and waited a minute before she tried the world again. "Doc...doctor?"

Amidst all the confusion, the comings the goings and the dying in Sickbay the faint voice wasn't heard initially, it wasn't long however before the nurse assigned to watch over this particular group of patients walked over to Ella and picked up the PADD on her gurney.

Checking the monitors were operational and recording she noted the increase in her pulse and respiration, pausing a moment at her side she gently tapped Ella on the shoulder, "Lieutenant?" she asked, "can you hear me?"

"Yes." Ella said.

Tapping her comm badge, "Arrietty to Doctor Burton, Lieutenant Grey seems to be coming around Sir."

=/\= One moment, I'll be there as soon as I can. =/\= Burton replied, sounding a little distracted.

"The Doctor will be here in a moment Lieutenant, can you tell me how you feel?" she asked, willing Burton to hurry up.

"Not sure." The engineer replied, trying to take note of the damage without moving too much. She felt tired, sore, and there was definitely some form of medication in her body.

And.... something else.

"Do you remember what happened in Engineering?"

"Something ... exploded to my right. Then I couldn't move." Ella frowned down at her hands. "Was I burnt?"

"Only singed, but you took a bit of a jolt that worried us for a while. The young Romulan lad in Engineering had to bring you up here when you collapsed. It gave you quite a shock, we're just keeping an eye on you as it may have caused a little bit of trouble with your heart," Arietty said, trying to downplay the fact that she'd had a full blown cardiac arrest, "the doctor just wants to monitor you for a while.

"My heart?" There was something amusing in having a damaged heart from something other than men troubles. Ella might have even laughed if she wasn't convinced that there was something else wrong with her. She wiggled her toes and then shifted her legs a bit.

Hmmm, she thought. Nothing wrong there. So what was it? "Is it... do I need a new one?"

Smiling reassuringly, "I don't think so, but Doctor Burton will be able to bring you up to speed on exactly what happened. You're going to be fine though."

"Hmmm." Ella commented distractedly.

Looking around Arietty saw Burton, still dressed in surgical red's walking in her direction. Offering her the PADD once she was close enough she smiled at Ella and moved aside and onto her next patient, leaving the two alone.

"Nice to see you awake," Kimberly said with a small smile as she quickly scanned the PADD. Looking at Ella she reached up and pulled off the red cap wearily, "You had us worried for a while there, but so far you seem to be recovering nicely. Any pains or aches you want to mention?" she asked.

Ella frowned. "My chest is a bit sore."

"Not surprising, considering what happened. You had a bit of an electrical shock," she informed Ella, "and it stopped your heart, we had to do CPR for a bit there, but the soreness will pass," she promised with a smile, "good news though is that you're alive, and are likely to remain that way for quite a while," smiling reassuringly, "Unless you do something crazy again like trying to earth yourself again." Looking a little more serious she perched on the edge of a stool and tried to relax for a moment, "we do want to monitor you for a while, just to make sure there's no damage done."

"Damage?" That one word was significant but once again she couldn't figure out why.

She should probably ask them to cut back on whatever they had given her.

"Damage to the heart can be subtle, we did pick up a faint murmur after we resuscitated you but that might simply have been a bit of an erratic rhythm due to the defibrillation. If anything comes of it we'll discuss what it means at that point, okay?"

The engineer nodded. She didn't want to worry about replacing her heart if she didn't have to either. But still ... "Is there something else wrong with me, Doctor?"

Debating for a moment, a very short and almost unnoticeable moment Kimberly shrugged mentally, "Well, aside from a few bumps, bruises and minor burns there is one thing. Your vocal synthesiser," indicating to Ella's throat, "was also damaged during the, incident in Engineering.

We haven't had time to repair it yet, but so far, I don't see any rush," she added with a raised eyebrow.

"My ..." Ella began and then stopped cold as she realized what she had slowly been noticing. Just under the mechanical sound her implant produced when she spoke there was another sound that could almost be heard. It was faint, mostly indistinguishable, besides the fact that it sounded human and female.

Ella felt her lips clamp shut.

"Lieutenant?" Kimberly asked with a trace of confusion, trying to recall Ella's file she found her curiosity piqued as she recalled the Lieutenant's strange aversion to using her own voice.

Ella gestured for a computer PADD.

Simply raising an eyebrow curiously Kimberly passed the requested device over.

"I'll let you know if I start to feel any pain." The engineer calmly typed and then handed the PADD back to Burton and closed her eyes again.

"Without a Prayer"

By

Commander Taloras
Commanding Officer
I.R.W. Mahak

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

"To all ships, this is Riov Taloras Xaniidor Kilyle of the Imperial Rihannsu Warbird Mahak. As of 1 day ago, all direct contact with the Home Worlds has ceased. By the tradition of our ancestors dating back to the Sundering, we will discuss the ramifications of this event in common. Any may speak their mind, regardless of rank or social standing."

Taloras glanced sideways at her XO, who gave her a silent nod.

"We may now begin."

She sat down.

For a long moment, no one said anything, until-

"How did this begin?"

She looked up at the main screen. It was divided in to 10 different sections, with each showing the bridge of a different warbird.

One of the sections was dominated by a severe-looking woman on the cramped bridge of a Kestrel-clas destroyer. "Well?" she asked.

Taloras sighed. "Before we lost contact, we registered over half of the home defense fleet destroyed or crippled. Hydran ground forces are now subduing ch'Rihan relatively unmolested."

She looked down at a PADD before continuing. "Long-range sensors indicate what allied forces that survived have withdrawn to the Phoenicius system. The last orders we received were for planetary governors to maintain system defences, and for border patrols-us-to continue with previous directives."

A young sub-commander scoffed. "'Previous directives'? Do they expect us to sit idly by while aliens march unopposed through the streets of Ki Baratan?"

"That is beside the point!" One of the older commanders interrupted. "Even if we were ordered back, 11 small or outdated warbirds have not the firepower to overcome the Hydran fleet, never mind the Ahlhvnau ch'Stelam-a."

"Riov Viaen is right." Another, commander of the Jenyu, offered. "We cannot hope to successfully engage the Hydrans at this time."

"Then what do we do?"

"We have to fight!" Sub-commander Vaihen roared. "We will not be known as the race that rolled over and gave up for the Hydrans!"

"Our orders were issued for a reason, Erei'Riov." Taloras cautioned. "Only fools and Klingons would would rush to death so quickly."

"Riov Taloras should lead us." one of them said suddenly.

Taloras blinked. "What?"

The figures on screen all nodded.

"One of us must take command in order to keep order." Sub-commander Hwersuil said. "It is your right, by virtue of both rank and mnhei'sahe."

"We offer our support." Commander Jhalai of the Thraex added quietly.

Taloras managed a faint smile. "Thank you."

The other ship-commanders looked expectantly at her, waiting for direction. "We will follow orders." She said finally.

A few of the commanders on-screen frowned, but said nothing.

Sub-commander Vaihen was not so docile. "That's it? You're prostrating the last remnants of the Rihannsu Star Empire before these squids?"

The others winced at his blatant display of disrespect, but Taloras merely gave a small grin. "Hardly. I'm ensuring what remains of the Rihannsu Navy will live to fight another day."

"Besides," she said, "I didn't say we were going to do nothing."

Vaihen looked simultaneously incredulous and sour, but the others leaned forward in their chairs, keenly interested.

"I request the aid of two volunteer warbirds. One of which will warp to ch'Rihan, under cloak, and forward detailed sensor telemetry to us and the Federation. The other will journey to the Phoenecius system and attempt to make contact with whatever remains of the defense fleet and the Senate-in-exile."

At "exile", many of the commanders scowled, while some just shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"I will not lie to you," Taloras continued gravely, "Both missions entail a considerable amount of risk. Those who do not wish to go will, in my eyes, keep their honour intact."

Another pause.

"Will no one do this?"

One of the younger commanders abruptly stood up on-screen. "Riov Raidek of the warbird Picard offers her services for the glory of the Star Empire."

The other commanders smiled warmly.

"Erei'Riov Keirianh of the warbird Jenyu also offers his services for the glory of the Star Empire."

"Thank you." Taloras said. "The Jenyu, being a refitted Hatham-class frigate, is ideally suited to stealth duties based on its small sensor profile and high evasive capabilities. Erei'Riov Keirianh will head operations over ch'Rihan."

Keirianh nodded.

"Riov Raidek, your Nierrh will make the journey to the fleet quickly, and if they go in to battle soon, it can serve the same function as the Starfleet Defiant-class war destroyer. Let us hope," she said with a grin, "that their battle-weary souls are hertened by your vessel's namesake."

Raidek smiled. "Indeed, Riov."

"You have your commands." Taloras said. "Depart immediately; the rest of us will keep patrolling the borders as per orders."

She paused, wanting to say more, but couldn't think of anything else. "Jolan'tru."

"Jolan'tru."

The main screen darkened.

"What did we just do?" her XO said.

"The right thing. I hope."

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

OOC: Ahlhvnau ch'Stelam-a: Literally, "Wild Beast of the Stars"

OOC Note - these logs span the week following the withdrawal. It's now been seven days since Romulus fell to the Hydrans, and the fleet retreated to Phoenecius. - Pat

COMMAND

Captain's Log, USS Galaxy Supplemental Stardate 60316.4

A political leader on Earth once wrote in the midst of a war: "These are the times that try men's souls." His war was both larger and smaller than the one that I have inherited here, among stars that were not known to the people of his time. It was larger, because it encompassed the whole of his world from end to end; and smaller because it only encompassed that one, small world. This war is as large as the one fought against the Dominion in scope, because, as then, the future of the Federation rests on the outcome. Will we fail to meet the challenge and become more dust to sift through the turning wheels that drive the universe, or will we meet it, over come it, and take another step towards the future that those who created our Federation dreamt of as they wrote her charter?

I don't know; Allah – wisely, I think – has not chosen to give me the gift of prophecy that I might know. Lacking that, I must depend on faith in Him, on the men and women that stand with me, and on the words that wiser men than I have written.

John Milton, in his Paradise Lost said: "Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit that fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair. "

I may not have fought in Heaven, but I will not allow despair at the loss of friends both old and new, and so many good men and women that I will never have the privilege to know to stop me. I will, as Milton's angel did, turn my loss and sorrow into fuel to drive me on.

A man of peace, Mahatma Gandhi, wrote something that applied to his struggle, but apples to this one as well: "When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won.

There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, ALWAYS."

Gandhi's words were not meant to condone war, but here, in this place and at this time, they offer what we need to win the war we are fighting. I just have to ensure that the others understand and believe that we can win, that all is not lost, and we can meet any challenge.

I miss you, June. This would be easier if you were here to tell me that I can do this… but I rejoice that you and our daughter are not here, are beyond this.

M'Kantu out.

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

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom,

Acting Captain's Log, USS Miranda Stardate 60316.4

After arriving back from the Galaxy, Jaal headed for the ready room.

He walked over to the desk and started reading the lastest. There were already updated status reports from the various departments. Repairs to the ship were coming along and the wounded were healing, science and tactical were busy studying data on the starbeast and making plans for its defeat.

Standing in front of the desk he looked up at the empty chair inhaling deeply. 'Why did it always look so much bigger when it was your butt that had to be in it?' the commander silently asked himself.

Outright war was had been the farthest thing on his mind for so many years. All the years since the Dominion War ended, in fact, were relatively peaceful. Now all of a sudden the Hydrans get a hard on for the Federation.

Jaal shook his head.

He believed the Hydrans weren't working alone especially since the Battle of Havras happened. Many nights he'd been up with Jii talking about galactic politics and trying to guess the possibilities.

No more guessing now.

Then, to throw more gas on the fire, Summers' daughter was coming to serve on the Miranda. It was a double edged sword as far as Jaxom was concerned. She was a top-notch officer to be sure, but she wanted revenge in a bad way for what happened to her father.

Of course, there was no blaming her for that but could Jaal trust her to follow orders if they weren't in line with her bloodlust? What if the retreat order was given again? Would she listen? Or would she press on to the detrimate of the rest of the ship?

What about Erastus? Was she alright? Dead? Captured? He heart sank when he thought of all the things that could be happening on Romulus right now. A vengeful feeling arose in him that he knew he had to control. It was getting worse the more he thought about his lover but he couldn't afford to lose control now.

Jaal took a deep breath again and walked over to the window. Outside the fleet could be seen floating in space. Then he looked in the direction he supposed ch'Rihan would be. "We'll be back."

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

"Captain's log, USS Exeter Stardate 60316.4. Following the meeting of the fleet captains aboard the Galaxy, it appears that the Exeter was not the only ship to sustain significant damage during the battle at Romulus. Aside from several ships that were destroyed outright, many others are in the process of being repaired to return them to battle readiness per Captain M'Kantu's order. I do not look forward to another encounter with the Hydrans, but that is ultimately why we are here in the first place. I only hope the ship and crew will be ready in every sense.

"Our own repairs are well underway, thanks to the assistance of several experienced officers from the Galaxy and the Miranda. I am confident that we now have sufficient expertise to cover the losses we sustained in Tactical and Helm, and to augment our short-staffed crews in Engineering, Medical and Ops.

"I still sense tension between me and Lieutenant Mullen, who is now acting as the Exeter's first officer. The heavy casualties among the crew and the influx of officers from other ships -- including and most particularly me -- have required adjustments from everyone, but I think Lieutenant Mullen is having an especially difficult time accommodating the new dynamics within the Exeter's senior officers. At present, I don't have time to address the situation with him, though I suspect it is ultimately inevitable."

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

Captain's Log, USS London Stardate 60316.4. The London is with the Fleet in the Phoenicius System, having abandoned ch'Rihan to the Hydran Fleet. In someways, I can't say I'm sorry to see the fall of Romulus. The Star Empire have plagued the Federation, and Earth in particular, since we first made our strides into space in the 22nd Century. But at the same time, we've given the Hydrans a staging area.

And I'd rather have a stable Romulan ruled Romulus than the Hydrans.

Whilst I'm hoping that we get the oppotunity to fight back, and liberate Romulus, I can't help this enormous sense of failure. My first assignment in Command, and I lose a planet. I lose good people.

Lots of good people. Commander Mellor was one of the first casualties.

Doctor Carrington did all she could, but unfortunately we lost him.

I've appointed Ileen as my Acting XO in the mean time, so we'll see how that goes. She tells me Engineering will get us back up to spec soon enough, which is fortunate.

Leaving 'Commander Mo'Bar on ch'Rihan wouldn't have been my first choice, but something tells me his Hazard Team will still be there if we ever get back into the fold."

Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer USS London

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XO's Log, USS Hood Stardate 60316.4.

Lt. Commander Rachel Summers, recording.

"I'm not really sure if I have to keep recording this log, technically."

"After all, the Hood isn't anything more that dust orbiting Romulus, now, along with Captain DeSoto and too many members of her crew to count. Those of us who survived are scattered amongst the task force, with many of us aboard the Miranda, along with the surivors from the Concorde. We're helping fill the holes in the roster. Captain Reynolds was made CAG for the fleet, which she's coordinating from CIC. I'm serving as her tactical advisor, working with the Gorn - Lieutenant K'aa. "

"Suits me fine, right now. I can't let go of the fact that my father's dead - and now I have to stay on his ship. I'm getting tired of the double takes when I introduce myself."

"But that's not the worst. It's the sympathies. The condolences. I know they mean well - he was their Captain, he meant a lot to them.

But for God's sake, he was my father."

"I sound like a horrible bitch for feeling selfish about that, but somehow I can't bring myself to care."

"It's rediculous, I know. I'm a grown woman, a successfull officer - hell, a successful command officer - but at the end of the day, right now, with everything that went down at Romulus, I really just want Dad to give me a hug and tell me it'll all work out. "

"Turns out you don't get comfort from a corpse. I get it now, what Mom was afraid of all these years."

"Somehow I don't think she's going to enjoy being right."

"End log."

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

C-in-C's Log, Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock, recording.

"I dinna know how much more of this nonsense I can take."

"Twenty minutes ago, The Security Council adjourned so they could reveiw the battle reports. Like it matters! Good men and women died because we didn't send enough ships to fulfill our promises."

"It's as simple as that, and damned if I can make 'em see it. We made a promise. We told the Romulans we'd help defend them. The first real progress with them - the first real steps towards rapproachment, and it's all about to be undone by fear."

"Bloody fools."

"I find myself placin all my hopes in Nan Bacco. The President's a tough bird - an more'n that, she's that rarest of all creatures: An honest, intelligent politician. She gets 'em to make the right call, and I'll throw so many ships at the Hydrans that it'll make the bloody stars themselves shake."

"I owe Chris Summers, Bob DeSoto, and Marg Vogler no less'n that. And every other lad and lass in the uniform that died over that damn planet."

"End log."

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

TACTICAL

Personal Log, Stardate 60316.4

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO USS Miranda

I remember a ssstatement from one of my inssstructorssss on Sssgarnon Prime concerning humansss. "Humanity, dessspite their many ressspectable accomplishmentsss, are a frail ssspeciesss". I have consssidered the ssstatement many timessss over the yearsss, and while physssically mossst humansss are very much on the fragile ssside, at their bessst they have a tenacity many other ssspeciess may envy.

The concept of frailty came to mind when I reached the bridge after the Battle of Romulusss and Medical wasss attending to the body of Captain Sssummersss. When he firssst came on board, my gut warmed at the concept of ssserving with the man - naturally I had ssstudued his carreer quite thoroughly. His career was a large volume of commands issued from a ssstarship too ssmall and underpowered for the role it wasss required to play - but he and the Anchorage proved that ssskill, daring and courage made a captain, not firepower, or shields, or armor.

What he, that crew, and that small frigate accomplissshed defied imagination... and continuesss to inssspire it.

While I ressspected the man asss a leader, a warrior and an explorer - I'll confesss to even being a little awesstruck - I mussst be honessst in my appraisssal of him; the Captain who asssumed command of the Miranda wasss not the sssame who commanded the Anchorage for ssso long and ssso well. Certainly there were flashesss of that brilliance - the handling of the Bajoran/Cardasssian sssituation in the Delta Quadrant for inssstance - but mixed with unwissse decisssions. The sssame misssion sssaw too many sssenior officersss leave the Miranda at a time when we needed to prepare for the Borg.

It continuesss to assstound me how lucky we were on that day, but perhapsss luck too isss part of what made Chrissstopher Ssssummersss great... until it ran out.

Luck, asss humansss are prone to sssay, issss a fickle missstisss and it seemsss she bearsss the Miranda no love - Ssssummersss wasss not the only Captain to feel the cold wrath of her scorn. As they lift the Captain'sss corpse from the deck to a gurney, I'm reminded of another death and another Captain.

Ssssomewhere in Federation ssspace, a dessspondent Elaithin Jii wallowsss in the misssery of hisss own wretchednesss... largely at my own hand. My new posssition as the ACTO on Miranda hasss given me sssecurity accesss enough to sate my curiousssitiess, regardlesss of their morbid nature. Substantial evidence and intel hasss Miranda'sss previousss massster a drunkard on sssome backwater world on the outer rim of the Alpha Quadrant, hisss own children abandoned with his wife'sss elderly parentsss - one of whom hasss passsed away.

What bringsss a man to sssuch extremesss? What drivesss him to ssself dessstruction in the mossst shamelesss way posssible? Thessse are rhetorical quessstionsss, of coursssse - Death... and Love.

Old friendsss both, and bitter enemiesss...

The mossst painful thing I have experienced in my life hasss not been physssical injury or trauma - I have the scarsss to bear witnesss to thossse memoriesss. What burns hotter tha the mossst well-fired brand isss the shame I have endured over what happened with the Indefatigatable. Each death I wasss resssponssible for I clearly remember, each name, each face, each... ssscream... will never leave me. Yet the one death that oddly bearsss the mossst pain isss the one I wasss comatossse during - the death of Colonel Jordan Elaithan.

Of this wound I bear, the scar that had healed - at least a little - was viciousssly ripped open when my curiousssity lead me to review the Colonel'sss autopsssy file. Even Doctor D'Bari was shadesss lighter than her usssual attractive ssshade of emerald when she wasss performing the tasssk, and underssstandibly ssso. The remainsss bore the effectsss of radiation from the pulsssar she rammed the Indefatigatable into - her tisssue absssorbed almossst 20,000 röntgen equivalent'sss of radiation. A messy, agonizing death - one that I am largely... no... entirely resssponsssible for.

While Death'sss pain isss hurtful enough, coupled with Love it bearsss the force to drive heros dessspair, and lessser creaturesss to madnesss. I wasss comatossse for two weeksss after the Indefatigatable incident, yet each whisssper, each veiled accusssation from each crewman formed a sssolid tapessstry of eventsss. Each reflection of Elaithin Jii'sss overwhelming grief from the sssenior officersss closssessst to him wasss a handful of sssalt thrussst into the gaping wound of my sssoul.

Time hasss not healed it asss I had hoped it would.

Perhapsss it never will.

I held the turbolift to allow the orderliesss room enough to allow the Captain'sss remainsss dignity assss he left the bridge for the lassst time, but sssome clod of a crewman managed to jolt the gurney againssst the lift'sss door - one of Sssummersss' handsss fallss from underneath the body'sss shroud. He wisssely recoiled assss I growled a warning-to-the-weak, and backed away from the corpse,

I lifted the hand to place it alongside the body and was amazed how cold it had become in sssuch a sshort period of time - and how thin and sssmall it wass. The skin bore the signsss of age, it had dark marksss of the elderly upon it, and had been pulled away from the diminishing muscle. It *wasss* frail - but still bore sssignsss of some of the power that had ruddered thisss man'sss formidable accomplishmentsss. Ressspectfully, I placed the hand next to the Captain'sss body and adjusssted the shroud.

I nodded at the pale little orderly who now cautiousssly moved the remainsss of the Massster of the Miranda from hisss bridge. Asss the door closssed, I wasss ssstruck by the notion that in my two yearsss of ssservice aboard the ssship, two Captainsss have been driven from her - an unhealthy record.

Foolishly perhapsss, I made a vow to the Firesss that sspawned my race that there would be no third while I wasss aboard her. While the strength wasss in my sssinewsss and my heart had the ssstength, I would not go gentle into that good night. I would rage againssst the darknesss of the night unlike any who came before me, and that darknesss would come to know the fear of my wrath.

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

LOG ERROR: USS GALAXY UPLOAD DAMAGED

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

FLIGHT CONTROL Log, Stardate 60316.4

Officers are manning both the main bridge and the battle bridge while Raven Darkstar is monitoring the entire battle and coordinates shuttles from the Navigation Dome (state of the art holographic Navigation Command prototype) in the Nav Offices. Junior officers

(NPCS) have relieved the more Senior officers (PCS) giving them time to refresh themselves, calm their nerves and stay sharp for round two when it comes.

All shuttles are currently operational, manned and ready for deployment if necessary.

All available mechanics have been loaned to the fighter detachment for fighter repair if needed.

Lt. Darkstar, CFCO, USS Galaxy. End Log.

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

"Chief Flight Controllers Log,USS Miranda Stardate 60316.4.

I'm not entirely sure what to say.

Miranda's suffering a loss, with the death of Captain Summers, but I don't seem to be feeling it. I'm not sure why. The department seems to be holding up, as best as we can anyway. I've offered up our Shuttlecraft and its personnel for use throughout the Fleet in assisting co-ordination of repairs, and supplies and such. Hopefully, that'll make a difference.

I don't know that it will, with the Hydrans still breathing down our necks. I figure that they won't stop at Romulus. If I were in their shoes, if they wear shoes that is, I've never seen a Hydran up close, I'd probably not stop until the entire Romulan Empire had been bought to its knees. Not that I want to give them any ideas mind you."

Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda

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

"CAG's Log, Major Corran Rex, USS Galaxy"

"Official death toll was eight pilots - five of whom were in the new Saber Squadron, including the unit commander, Major Kol. That big Klingon bastard was a good friend of mine. I'll miss him - and dedicate the next battle in his honor. Not that he'll need the help getting into Sto'vo'kor, I'm sure."

"I have a replacement in mind, but I don't want to record that in the log until she accepts. We've scrounged up replacement pilots from the survivors of the Concorde's Wing. Miranda and Typhon have taken aboard most of the others, I believe."

"Kettch is also off the flight list - the little fuzzball took some shrapnel after he punched out, and his leg suffered from vacuum exposure. I'm not sure if he's ever going to fly again. I've appointed Pad as temporary three flight lead for the Vanguards, and..I can't remember what else I was going to say.

"Hell, I need some sleep. Computer, amend to personal log."

"Scuttlebutt has Ella in sickbay. I should visit her, I know - I want to, but I don't know if I've got the damn time. Don't much know if she wants to see me, either, or how much I really want to see her. Hell, it's complicated."

"I don't if she knows yet, about Victor being MIA back on Romulus.

Somehow, I'm more worried for any Hydrans that get in his way - and I think she will be, too."

"What isn't, right? End log."

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

"Acting Group Commander's Log, USS Miranda. Major Rena Starburst, recording."

"Fourteen pilots down, one way or another, out of Rogue Group's 36.

Our command staff is decimated, with Colonel Mitchell, Major Mel Thora and Major St. Mel