"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Four

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Throughout the onslaught that followed the screams of the wounded echoed off the walls of the buildings that managed to withstand the bombing. Miles away from the city the battle was felt, seen and heard. The cries and sound of phaser fire not only lit up the sky like the 4th of July celebrations in America, but tainted it with the blood of the fallen. It impregnated the air, the stench carrying upon the wind. It seeped into the ground, bathing it with innocent souls that would forever haunt the minds of those that survived.

In the distance a clock could be heard chiming faintly four am, reminding everyone that usually at this time of night all of Romulus would be sleeping, yet there wasn't one soul that could sleep through this. Those that had already fallen, hacked down by the blade of the Hydran Alliance, not only had the torment of their suffering, guilt riddled minds for having failed, or for being relieved that they had failed! Yet even now, secluded under the ground, close enough to death to reach out and shake his withered hand, even here in this place of heeling they had to endure yet another torture; the sounds of their comrades dying. Feeling the earth above them shake with every blast, watching showers of mud and dust fall from the ceiling as every quake threatened to make the whole place cave in on them, and yet there was nothing they could do, but sit and wait for their fate.

Era hadn't been able to sleep. Soft cries kept filtering down the passageway, disturbing her dreams. More than once, just as her body managed to claim a doze, she'd wake in a cold sweat at the moans of the wounded, bringing back visions of unintelligible wailing from the Romulan hospital.

Her back to the wall, Era listened in the dark as the sounds of pain, weariness and despair filtered from the hospital section of the underground passageways. One voice in particular kept drawing her ear.

It wasn't any louder than the rest, but it was more discernible. There were words behind the pain, chanted unceasingly. Impelled to hear more clearly, Era rose to her feet and followed the monotone down the hallways. After a few minutes walking, turning corners and backtracking as she played a game of hot-and-cold with the voice, Era at last entered the room of its origin.

The walls were lined with beds. All were filled, some with more than one individual - though those sharing tended to be children. In fact, most of the room held children, only a few adults scattered here and there looking like oversized dolls. A few of the kids were crying, some even while they slept. Some bore ghastly wounds, physical scars of the ravaging of their planet to ensure they would never abandon the mental scars war had inscribed on their souls. In the center of the room, kneeling on the cold ground, a young boy, perhaps thirteen at most, rocked slowly as he chanted. The words were clearer now.

It was a prayer for the sick, a prayer for the homeless, a prayer for the dead. All at once and each line its own intercession, endlessly repeating, the three designations becoming one in the process of prayer.

Era had never considered herself to be overly religious, yet the constancy of the young voice in the midst of so much uncertainty drew her relentlessly until she found herself kneeling as well, in the middle of the doorway, her head bowed as she listened and desired, with all her heart, to reach out toward some higher power that all of this might make some sense. That there could be a reason, or the hope for retribution, or at least solace in waiting arms when the end did arrive…

At first, Branwen had done mainly administrative duties to keep the makeshift hospital going. Making sure that the medication there was, was distributed where needed. But pretty soon it became clear that they were still short of medical personnel.

Despite her own minimal medical training, she was again roped into helping out as nurse and even doctor! This time she found it even more difficult, so many of the civilian casualties were children. It was heartbreaking to see the pain and the confusion of those little faces. So many of them had lost all their family and were totally alone in the world.

The spare time she did have, Branwen spent on the children's ward, singing to them and playing little games with those who were more mobile. Once in a while she even managed to make one of them smile. Those were the most precious moments in the world for her right now.

The boy's chanting eventually came to an end and Era returned to her feet, feeling slightly disoriented. Her gaze fell upon a familiar face, even if her last encounter with the woman had ended less than cordially. Having nothing else to do within the tunnels, Era approached and crouched down beside Branwen mouthing a hello, unwilling to disturb the silence with her voice.

Branwen wiped a tear from her eye, and motioned Era to follow her to a more private area of the room.

"I want to say thank you for staying and helping out. You are making a big difference, most of the wounded run out of here as soon as they are back on their feet. They cannot take all the suffering."

"Where would these little ones run?" Era murmured, folding her arms across her chest in a sudden chill, "Or any of us?"

"I mean our people, they clamor very quickly to find other jobs outside of the hospital. And I can't even blame them." Branwen was sidetracked by a beeping monitor. Even people on life-support were placed here because the intensive care was overflowing.

"Just a second, I have to check this out." She said and walked to the bed were the beeping was intensifying. Branwen was too tired to recognize the noise as a danger sign. So she bent over the little boy lying on the bed.

Seconds later there was a very loud noise and Branwen was lifted into the air, hurled against the wall. With all the air blown out of her lungs the world went dark.

It took Era some minutes to orient after the blast. Most of the children had begun to scream or cry. The boy chanter had begun again, at a more feverish pace, his prepubescent voice trying to drown out the chaos around him. From beneath a swarm of scared children Era struggled to her feet and tried to assess the situation. There wasn't time now to determine what had caused the machine to explode like that. More important was to see who was hurt - freshly hurt, she amended. Most of the children seemed to simply be shaken. The child on life-support, having lost the sustaining strength of the machine, lay still. Era's eyes searched for Branwen and finally found her. A few children were huddling over her prone form. Gently, Era shooed them out of the way, Branwen's medical kit in hand.

Branwen was barely conscious. Her whole body hurt and she kept slipping in and out.

Era's brow creased at the readings she was getting. While she could understand the ideas of abrasions and moderate burns, the two broken fingers, and what appeared to be a long-standing wound that had become heavily infected, she was at a loss as to how best to treat them, or in what order.

Instructing one of the older boys to go fetch her some water, she did her best to set things right. The shoulder wound had festered beyond the help of the weak regenerator in the kit, but she hoped the sterilization pack would prevent further infection. Once Branwen was conscious again, she could see about getting instructions on how better to deal with it. The burns looked bad, but they were relatively easy to deal with, though the healing time in the circumstances would be slow. She didn't have anything to set or heal the bones, however, so she did the best she could by buddy-binding one bad finger to one good. The result was a little ridiculous, leaving Branwen stuck in a perpetual Vulcan traditional salute. The younger children around her, many of them Romulan, giggled and began to mimic it, chanting "live long and prosper" until one of the older ones told

them to hush, finding too much irony uncomfortable.

Once Era had done what little she could by way of treating Branwen's injuries, she availed herself of one of the woman's brief moments of consciousness to press her to drink some water before easing her back down, a pillow having been hastily set beneath her head.

"What.... Ruvik...is he..." She was clearly indicating the boy she had come to see to. Branwen tried to struggle upright. She was not thinking completely straight yet, but the young woman had a very high pain threshold thanks to the administrations of her father during her youth.

"He's dead," Era said straight out, not fighting Branwen's attempts to sit up.

The young marine swallowed. In her present state it was one death too many and the tears joined the blood and filth on her face unchecked.

"Help me up, please." She asked Era, "I must try and save the rest."

"What's the use?" Era muttered under her breath, but helped her up anyway. "You should have that wound on your shoulder looked at."

"I know. It happened a few days ago. But every time a doctor is free something more urgent comes up. So I manage." Bran said simply. "How are you?" she tried to focus her eyes.

"Fine." Era brushed aside the question.

The ceiling shook again raining down more debris as the battle raged above their heads. The cries of the wounded lulled as the patients slept under sedation. The lighting in the main room flickered yet the generators kept the medical equipment running. It was a testament to the Federation and how many times they had been through conflicts, that the large underground room, of which no one had questioned the existence of, had been fully kitted out with bio beds, cots, antigrav stretchers and all manner of medical devices scrounged from all over the city.

Yet at the same time it was also a bitter reminder that even though the major powers called for peace, even now in this age of enlightenment, war was still something that they could never escape.

No matter the multitude of advances they made in technology, or the advances they believed they had made, it was never enough to help move beyond violence and destruction. Decades pass, centuries even, and yet another generation was subjected to the horrors of war. Would the peoples of the galaxy ever be able to move beyond this need, this primal instinct to command and conquer?

Could the species of the known universe ever truly live in peace?

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Five

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

It has been declared throughout the ages that triage medicine was indeed the best, and from those lying there, there had been no complaints. Even though they faced many problems in the hospital; lack of medicine and personal, they still treated the wounded as best they could, better in fact.

For the moment the hospital was relatively peaceful, finally giving the doctors and nurses some time to rest. Those that were on duty made their rounds quietly, pausing at the foot of each patient's cot, adding notes to the charts that hung on the end of their makeshift beds. The main room was large and rectangular; it contained most of the injured adults, while another slightly smaller room, off the right of the main, contained predominantly children.

There was a corridor off the main room that led to a wing of smaller rooms. At the end of the hall a canteen had been assimilated from chairs and tables that they had found, and nestled in the corner was a replicator. The rest of the rooms had been set up for the officers on duty.

Faylin had found herself back in this place. The darkness was illuminated only by a stray lamp or two, with the rest being reserved for more serious matters. Glancing to the left, then right, the woman smirked, wondering exactly what the definition of serious was any more. The area reeked of seriousness. A smile would instantly frown in these surroundings.

She brought her hand up, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. Why she was told to be here, she knew. She was better with then she was without a phaser rifle. McAlister sighed, wishing that she could close her eyes and be transported to anywhere other than here. The nightmares, reserved for when the war was over, were occurring in a violent fashion night after night now. They housed the screams of the wounded damned. The soldiers who just wanted to get out and fight again, the cries of the people that realized they would never fight again, the whimpers of the soon to be dead, and the weeping of the orphaned children over newly deceased parents.

The makeshift infirmary held no grudges against discrimination. It accepted all races, all genders, all ages. Its arms were wounded themselves, yet opened with loving abandonment, attempting to give its life blood to save yet another life. The harsh reality was, that the infirmary was running low on life blood.

Blinking once, McAlister stood at the beginning of the medical center. Cot after cot after cot assaulted her with their contents of wounded in various degree. It was enough visually just with the mass amount of injured to make her vomit where she stood. The nauseated feeling was compounded by two things. The stench of death, blood, and tears.

And, the sounds of the wounded around her. Both violently attacked her. The most prominent was the ironish smell of blood. It was everywhere. On sheets, the floor, somehow on the walls of the cavern. It weaved it's presence around her, teasing her own blood, tempting it to come out and help decorate it's new home outside the various bodies it used to house itself in.

Swallowing the bile that she felt rise in her throat, she grabbed the nearest dolly, hell bent on changing some more bandages.

"Medic" Steven yelled as he entered the room. He was dripping with blood. Not his, but rather the wounded man he had been carrying back from the ambush. He looked about but found no empty cots.

"Take mine." A young man, missing his left arm called out.

Steven nodded and carried the wounded man over, carefully lowering him to the now empty cot.

The other marines moved in, wounded men either on their shoulders or being propped up by the shoulders. And slowly one by one, less wounded individuals would rise and free up a bed for the Marines. Steven nodded his thanks to each and every one of them as he waited for the medic to arrive.

Glancing sideways, Faylin gasped, dropping her bandages and running over to Steven.

"Steve!" Stopping short, she padded him down where the blood was. "Where are you hurt?"

"Hello to you too." He smirked playfully. "Most of the blood is from the wounded soldier I carried back here." He reached up and played with a strand of her hair for a moment. Even though she had become a stronger woman, even with the fortitude that her time on the planet had provided her, Steven still wanted to protect her, to take her as far from the war-zone as he could. But until the fleet arrived, or rather if the fleet ever arrived, he'd have to do what he could to protect her.

She outwardly sighed, content that it wasn't him that was hurt was sadistic in a way. Blinking, she held on to his arm as he talked to her.

"There wasn't enough time to get them patched up. Another group of Hydrans was approaching and we hightailed it out of there fast. We need the medic pronto. A couple of them won't survive for long without proper aid."

"Got it." She stated firmly, turning from him and running off to find someone that had more medical expertise than she did. And, at this point, it could be anyone.

Returning after settling the new arrivals in, she smiled before she slipped on some blood, knocking her head on the tip of a cot which resulted in knocking herself out.

Steven rushed to Faylin's side. "Faylin?" he called out to her as he kneeled by her side. "Fay?" He carefully picked her head up off the floor, cradling it on his knees as he felt for her pulse. It was there, soft, but steady, and Steven breathed a sigh of relief. It was short lived as he tried to pick her up to carry her to a cot, and found her hair soaked in her

blood. Chucking off his armor with haste, he ripped at his uniform to make a bandage for her head, while he called out for a medic.

He cradled her in his arms, rocking back and forth slightly as he waited.

It appeared that rest time was indeed over. Dr Robinson was awoken by the commotion. He dressed quickly, which meant putting on his boots and grabbing fresh scrubs!

He hotfooted it as quick as his stout form would allow, leaving the relative warmth of the cot he had been attempting to sleep on begrudgingly behind. Running down the small adjoining corridor into the main ward he heard the cries of those that were being brought in. That sound had echoed in this room a thousand times before and yet still, it was as haunting now as it was the first time he heard it. No matter how many times he had been in this position, through the Dominion war, the Cardassian war, that sound sill twisted a knot in his stomach and made the few hairs on his balding head stand on end.

Stealing a moment to check the time he sighed, 6am and already there were more, when would this end? There was only so much a death a doctor could take. Pushing the feelings aside he focused on his job, it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from falling into despair.

Half a dozen marines had somehow managed to make it through the battle outside and down the stairs to the underground hospital, each one of them carrying a bleeding, mangled, body. Several more piled in behind, those were the walking wounded; they would have to wait until the critical cases were dealt with.

Assessing the situation quickly as the other nurses and doctors joined him he visibly cringed as he looked down at the first body, already knowing that more would die on his watch today, for this one was beyond saving.

Seeing Ali enter the fray he shouted to the girl, "Take the woman." he indicated the man crouching on the floor rocking an injured woman in his arms. "Take him over there," he shouted at one of the marines, "and you take that one over there… no not there man…. *There*. Look where I'm pointing you dumb…"

The hospital came alive once more with fresh howls from the wounded and dying. More blood spilled across its floor adding to the stench that permeated the air and seeped into the heart of the planet. There seemed to be no end to this war.

Once their cargo was dropped off the few marines that could, left, there wasn't anything they could do here. With heavy hearts they meandered their way back up the stairs and out into the early morning light.

The dawn on the horizon was breaking, several rays of sun light streaming through the smoke and the dust that littered the atmosphere. It brought the destruction clearly into view for the marines that stood, struck by the blinding light and the devastation.

Looking up at one of the surviving buildings Private Lila realized for the first time that they were standing in the civilian quarter of the city. The house next to her bore visible marks from the fire fight that had seemed to end suddenly with first light. The walls were scorched, ebony streaks smudged the bricks, and the windows were shattered, torn curtains hung in the empty space fluttering in the gentle breeze, blackened with soot.

The small piece of land in front of the house, she assumed was once a garden, had huge potholes; craters, showing just how close this house had come to succumbing to the fate as its adjoining one. The house that had stood next door was nothing but a pile of rubble. Bricks jutted out of the one that survived, creating a disjointed silhouette against the lightening sky.

For a second she thought she heard a voice coming from a window above, yet how anyone was alive out here was beyond her. Bowing her head she took up the tail of the line of marines, checking her rifle just in case they were ambushed as they made their way back through the rubble in silence to the front line.

Yet what Lila didn't know was that there was indeed someone alive in that house with the scorched walls, more than one…

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Six

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

The tr'Ehhelih family home stood in what used to be the noble sector f the city, although now it was difficult to tell that this part of the city had any grace or class to it. Most of Avilh i'Ramnau tr'Ehhelih neighbors had fled when their first wave of defense fell. She had watched the streets come alive with millions as they clamored to escape. She had watched them with scathing pity, for she knew that there wouldn't be enough transports before the Hydrans came. She knew that most of those dying to leave would simply do just that; die.

Indeed there hadn't been enough transports, and neighbor turned against neighbor, friend against friend, family against family as they jostled to board what transports there were. And that sort of brutality was something she did not want to subject her son to. She was a proud woman and Rihannsu through and through. So the Hydran wanted her home and her blood? Well they would have to come and get it for themselves. They would have to physically remove her from her home, she wasn't going to let her son see her afraid, she wasn't going to panic and flee, she would stand and fight, she would show her son what it truly meant to be a Rihannsu.

Little Raul sat on his small bed playing with his teddy bear. Well, it wasn't really a bed, more a group of rags that formed a soft cushion to the hard dirt floor below. But he was with his mommy and that was all that he cared about. Daddy had gone off to fight the big uglies and hadn't come home yet.

It was early, but he couldn't sleep. The sounds and loud bangs outside had woken him up and now he couldn't sleep. He cried out for mommy, but she didn't come. Shrugging his shoulders, Raul looked down at his teddy bear, and laughed.

It now sported a third eye, made out of a button he had found and glued on, and an extra arm and leg made out of a carrot and a piece of wood he had found a few days ago. The material that acted as the bear's skin was ripped and torn in places and several dirt stains were clearly visible on the poor bear.

Looking away for a moment Raul pulled a small kitchen knife from the floor next to him and proceeded to stab the bear repeatedly. "Take that, and that" he shouted.

A bright light lit up the sky and Raul stopped and rushed to the window to see what it was. Even with all the death, destruction and bloodshed, the six year old's curiosity had not waned and he was eager to see what was happening outside. As he reached the window, he saw streaks of bright light zipping across the sky. He didn't know what they were, but they fascinated him no end and "hydra bear" as he had begun to call it, slipped from his grasp as his attention was fully on the light show that lit up the early morning sky.

"Yay!" He shouted as yet another series of beams of coloured light passed overhead in the sky.

The door burst open and Avilh, a tall gaunt woman entered the room in a frenzy; her expression was a mixture of elation and concern as she proceeded across the room and came to kneel near her only child.

"Come away from the window darling" she chastised softly.

"Mommy?" he turned to look at his mother. She looked tired, rubbing at her eyes, night gown blowing in the gentle breeze that blew in the open window, "Why should I come away?"

"Because it's dangerous there." she told him simply. Opening her arms she indicated for him to come to her, and the safety that her location by the wall provided rather than the window.

Raul nodded. He was used to obeying his mother. She was a strict task master, always making him do his chores and tidy his room. She had often told him that she was doing it for his own good. He knew better than to refuse, not because of what she said, but rather cause poppa usually pulled off his belt if he did.

He padded over to his mother and wrapped his tiny arms around her neck, hugging her tightly.

Enveloping him in her arms she hugged his small form, stifling a tear as she did. Standing up she lifted him off the floor and shifted his weight on to her hip as he wrapped his legs round her waist.

"When's poppa going to be home?"

Looking into his tiny face, she smiled at the question, though it brought an ach into her chest, "I don't know darling." she replied tucking a dark strand of hair behind his ear. "Soon though." she added cupping his cheek, she winked at him, pulling a face to lighten the mood.

The sky outside lit up brightly and instinctually she crossed the room and looked out of the window. It didn't occur to her that she had told off her son for doing just that.

"Did you see them darling?" she asked him in a whisper as emotion caught her voice.

"Who mommy?"

"They are back!" she said squeezing him a wave of relief washed through her body. "The Fleet is back baby!" she said pulling the frayed curtain aside to see the lights in the sky more clearly. Standing there she swayed gently back and forth as they watched the fire fight begin.

Raul looked at his mommy. If the fleet was back, that meant daddy might be back soon too. He hugged her tightly. He didn't have anything to say, so he just held her.

She smiled softly at him as she watched the lights, the battle that raged beyond their planet, for their planet. They watched it together until the light of the rising sun blocked the sight from their view.

She prayed silently that this would all be over soon. That their return would bring justice to the invading Hydran for all the atrocities they had committed, and that soon she would be reunited with her husband, and they could begin to live again instead of exist in this squalor.

"Mommy, what's that over there?" He asked as he saw movement down the street.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Seven

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Outside the tr'Ehhelih family home, troops had gathered, they too seeing the light in the sky, realizing that the game was back on. The Federation was back and that meant no holes barred, that meant freedom. It wasn't just the Romulans to be liberated it was the good men and woman that had been fighting here relentlessly for the past three weeks, this was their salvation too.

Across the city the news spread fast and as eight am dawned a new day; for those that tried to stick to some sort of 'normal' working hours. Ensign Varis was awoken and tasked to fix the only radio the rapidly forming resistance had.

Sat in front of the damaged machine, staring at the internal organs of wires and electrodes that hung out of its side, "This is going to take a miracle." He looked to the small group of technicians and the other Engineer that had come with him along with

the small group of marines that had served primarily as an escort. He shook his head slowly. How did they expect him to be able to do anything with this? He was sure that half of the internals were fried into ash.

He reached over with a sigh and picked up the small set of tools he had had with him ever since he got planet side. He set to work taking off the hard-shell cover of the communications device. It wasn't going to be easy at all. In the distance he could hear firefights raging and people screaming. He closed his eyes and focused on the task at hand. His hand worked the spanner carefully, working to pull the damaged cover off without damaging anything else inside of it. Once he got it off he set it on the floor next

to the broken chair he sat on. The insides were black with soot and damage. He had to admit that he had seen worse before, but in that situation, he had had several other broken machines to cannibalize parts from. This was completely different.

Varis looked around, "Anyone know how to fabricate transceiver modules and relay nodes?" Everyone looked at him like he was crazy, shaking their heads slowly. Varis sighed once again and went to work stripping out the internals of the small system, setting the good things to the left, the bad things on the floor, and the salvageable parts to the right. Thankfully the transmitter was in the 'good' section and the transceiver was still salvageable. That made a big difference. Varis looked around for a moment, looking to the other mechanical items in the room, "Quick, bring those over, I can strip wires and electronics out of them for this thing…"

Several others brought over the items he had pointed to and Varis quickly dismantled each one, cutting sections of wires out and taking out the parts that he could use. This was still going to be rather close. But he should be able to do it.

Johnston Davis looked like every other marine on Romulus; if you didn't count the fact that he was just a smidge over 7 feet tall and close to 300 pounds. He had a bullish face that screamed marine. Everyone assumed he was, but the problem was, he wasn't a marine and had never been. He was a Science Officer, in the field of biological and technical development. But like everyone else, the Ensign had assumed he was a grunt and ordered him around.

Dropping the last of the items on the table, he stood watching, waiting. At some point he was going make a mistake and when that time came, Johnston was going to be waiting to pounce.

While Johnston still waited for his chance, blows were already dealt out far above him in orbit around Romulus. Phaser streaks, Photon and Quantum torpedoes crossed the vacuum of space to be answered with the fiery responses of Hellbore cannons and other alien weaponry. Shields did collapse, Hulls were ripped apart. Some ships were 'lucky' to be only crippled while others were totally annihilated.

The battle was fierce and went on with a murdering tempo, but even two hours later it was only in its beginning stages. One had to wonder where that would all lead to. There was no way to tell. The only thing that was known beforehand was that in the end, only one would come out victorious and that it would finally be all over. Another bloody chapter closed. Or one could just as well say, "Another cycle in history completed", since history repeats itself and this time it was no different. War, was of all times and

it comes and it goes.

The universe is made up of many cycles, birth and death, planetary movement around a heavenly body, the ebb and flow of a tide. Cycles were a part of the very fabric of life. It was at a turning point in one of these cycles that Steven now found himself. For almost four long years he had been in the doldrums, miserable and without the spark of life. But that had all changed when he had met Faylin. He had changed. No longer was he always miserable, no more feeling blue. She, just by being herself, had helped drag the Marine's sorry butt up from the sad pathetic place he had been at and had shown him that life was worth living. He was in love, madly in love at that. And he was happy again. Happier than he had been in a long time.

Yet as he stood watching Faylin sitting on the cot, clutching at her head as she waited for the nausea to pass, he felt a pang of guilt that he couldn't do anything to help her. No one had been able to determine what was wrong. Bran had tried with no luck, and some others tried, but also couldn't find anything. Though, the equipment here wasn't the best, and there were a heck of a lot of patients that needed care. What Steven really wanted was to get her up to the Galaxy so they could run all the extra tests that, quite frankly, were not really possible in a war zone.

But that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Almost three weeks had passed since he and the others had been sucked out of the ship. Three weeks since they had retreated away from ch'Rihan. And it didn't look like they were going to come back anytime soon. Not that they could tell if they did return with that purplish shield in place.

Walking softly over to her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hi babe, did you miss me?" He felt her shoulders clench briefly in surprise, before relaxing after he spoke.

Faylin jumped, mostly out of sheer exhaustion. "Yes." Her tired eyes rose to catch his, the paleness of her skin jumped out at the man that stood in front of her. His touch, usually light, felt overly heavy to her just then.

"I wish I knew what was wrong with me Steven..........this really bites." Her tone was simple, yet all Faylin. She was buried deep within herself, yet, she was still there.

"I know hon, I do too." Steven replied. "I doubt that Starfleet will leave so many of us trapped here. Perhaps the Galaxy is already on its way. And then I can get you back up to your comfortable bed and proper medical equipment."

She smiled softly. "I'm going to sleep for days....weeks even. You know....there was only one time that I felt this crappy for this long. That's when I was pregnant with Olivia."

Steven thought briefly at the events that had occurred a few days before where Faylin had believed that Olivia was with her sitting on her knee talking to her. He squeezed her shoulder gently. "It's only natural to miss her. I miss that I never got the chance to meet her."

"At least she's safe where she is...that's some comfort I suppose."

"It is, very much so. And I'm sure she wants to make sure that you get back to safety too."

"I'm sure." Came the curt reply. Her mind, obviously somewhere else.

"I ..." A commotion outside their small room gave him pause. Reaching for his rifle, he rose to his feet and turned towards the noise as he, instinctively, moved to position himself between whatever it was and Faylin. He hadn't heard weapons fire, but wasn't about to take any chances, especially on a foreign world now under the control of another alien species.

Looking downwards, Faylin grabbed her rifle, then put a hand on Jonas's shoulder.

He felt her rest her hand on his shoulder, and started towards the noise, since there were no other ways out except by getting closer to the commotion.

"The Fleet's back! The Fleet's back!" Someone yelled as they ran down the corridor.

Steven smiled at the news and turned to Fay. "I guess miracles do happen."

Her face remained deadpanned. "It's about god damn time."

Branwen had finally collapsed, the total of her wounds made it impossible for her to continue moving. She now lay in a corner of the crowded hospital room. As she was not local, nobody was looking out for her. No friends of family caring for her. Starfleet personnel that was around was too busy to notice one of their own being down. And her friends were busy at work.

She knew it was bad. As a child Branwen had suffered injuries almost daily, and because of it was a very good judge of when something was just painful but not dangerous, dangerous and not painful or both. Some of the wounds she had received now fell in both categories. The arm hurt, and was badly infected by now. Although that was not an immediate danger, she would not die from the infection for a few days yet. Neither were the broken fingers or all the bruises or even the burns deadly. It was the silly concussion, and a small piece of metal that had wedged its way just below her ribcage that were proving to be the problems.

As she lay there losing blood and consciousness her mind drifted back to home. As usual the thoughts were not pleasant. She was back in the cellar at home nursing a broken arm. A punishment received for not saying the selected Bible verses quickly enough in church that morning. Father had boxed her ears, and called her a stupid wench. Then after the service had expertly broken her arm under the watchful eye of the local priest. Without any treatment she was shelved into the cellar to think about her sine for the rest of the day. If father was in good mood she would be allowed to prostrate herself and atone in the evening in front of the congregation. If he was not she would spend the night in the cold without any food or drink. Her mother or her brothers and sisters would certainly not come and help. Everybody knew it would hamper her road to salvation.

That thought brought back yet another memory. When she had been smaller, about 5. She had watched Sally Perkins stand in the stocks on the small market square. Sally worked in the local grocery store has always been nice to little Branwen. She had asked her mother why Sally was being punished, and did not understand the answer. What was wrong with looking at other women, everybody did that. It was not polite to look away. But Sally was made to stand in the stocks for 72 hours. Everybody was free to throw rotten food at her and nobody was allowed to bring her any thing to drink or eat. Branwen had gone to Sally when she thought nobody was looking, and offered her some water. The poor girl has been so grateful, but unlucky for both one of Branwen's brothers had seen it all. It meant one of her first days in the cellar, and the first really severe beating her father had given her. Together with a lecture about the sins of women of which she understood almost nothing. Three days after being released from the stocks Sally Perkins drowned herself in the river.

It was cold, cold in the cellar and cold in the room, Branwen shivered and whispered a bit in her native language. Then she cried a little, despair gripping her. She didn't want to die, not right now. For the first time in her life she had found a man who wanted her. The young Welshwoman was very curious about exploring a relationship. Life was interesting now. Aliens didn't scare her some much any more, her father had been wrong, they were very nice people. Except for some green ones.

She was sleepy now, and more at peace. It was all right, Daddy would let her out any minute now. In the end he never forgot, he always looked out for her and her soul. It would be all right, after prayers she would be allowed to sleep in her own bed. The young woman smiled slightly just before she lost consciousness.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Eight

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Through the excitement of the Federation returning, every able body running to take up arms and make their last stand on the surface, Branwen's forlorn form was missed amongst the chaos.

It appeared that the return of the Fleet was enough medicine for some people. It was true indeed how the mind worked; knowing that above them in the bright morning sky the Fleet was assaulting their oppressors was all that some of the patients needed to hear to make them rise up off their death beds and pick up a rifle. Nothing that Robinson could administer would have that effect on them.

He watched somewhat stunned as the walking wounded got up and left. Those that had been sitting here for days rose from their cots and picked up a weapon, one guy that only had one arm, Robinson had long forgotten his name, even him, with one arm, got up off his butt and picked up a phaser!

Part of him wanted to intervene, to bring to their attention the fact that half of these men and woman were not fit to fight, yet at the same time the words escaped him as he felt a surge of pride in the duty and determination they showed.

As the troops filled out, whooping and cheering, Robinson turned to continue care for those that still lay wounded in the hospital.

As the group worked a gentle banter commenced. It was their way of removing themselves from the affiliation with the patients they attended, knowing how close they were themselves to succumbing to a similar fate as those on the operating table. The roof above them shook with the quakes from explosions that ravaged the planet above, a not so gentle reminder of that fact.

Dr. Ali took a moment to steal a glance across the ward. The wounded had stopped coming, for the moment at least. She knew that with the reemergence of the Fleet that soon this place would be overflowing once more. Yet it was weird that the room that had been full just a few moments ago was now so empty and quite. There were still patients to attend to, the children the next ward hadn't risen up to fight, and she would have stopped them if they had. The things that they had witnessed were enough; they didn't need to add that sort of carnage to their already disturbed minds. She wondered if Romulus had enough counsellors to attend to all those that would certainly need it once this conflict had ended. And for once she was confident that it would.

Her eyes flowed over to the empty steps, the sound of the soldiers' boots as they had left still fresh in her mind. "I wonder how they are getting on." she murmured softly.

As the midday sun beat down upon Romulus the fighting began once more. It had never really stopped throughout the last 20 days; it just seemed to rise and fall like the ebb and flow of the tides. Yet now the remaining troops swelled with a new clarity and resolve and the fighting took on a more feverish pitch.

Back in the bunker on the outskirts of Ki Baratan Captain Rogers and his Lieutenant stood over Private Cob, their expressions grim as Cob relayed the information he received through the decrepit transmitter.

"They have engaged…." Cob said straining hard to hear the report through the static and the shouting in the back ground that came through with the other mans' voice. Instinctively he pulled the receiver away from his ear as an explosion came clearly over the channel both in its ferocity and volume.

Rogers' face was unreadable as he stood there. Leonora studied him closely. She nodded to the Private that stood by the alcove, he entered the room, handing her padd. Nodding to him she waited for him to leave before looking back to Cob and indicating that he could continue.

"Fighting is serious… they are taking heavy losses."

Leonora closed her eyes. She had friends out there, people that she had worked with for years. She gritted her teeth to keep from showing her anger and pain.

"They request back up…" Cobb said looking up at his Captain expectantly.

Rogers shook his head slightly ~there is no one to back them up!~ he groaned inwardly, unable to keep the stony visage on his face.

"They are awaiting your orders Sir." Cob finished leaning back in the chair and removing the receiver from his ear.

Rogers sighed, another one of those tough decisions that he was beginning to really hate. Chewing on the inside of his cheeks he took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying.

"How far away are they?" he asked staring out across the room at the wall.

Leonora checked the padd on the desk, "About three miles East." she replied perching on the side of the table she folded her arms, "It would take us about half an hour to reach them, assuming that we aren't ambushed and the path is clear." she paused, still unable to read his face, unable to attain anything from his body language. It infuriated her. She used to be able to read her Captain, yet now he was unpredictable. And that was something she didn't like, it sent a chill through her body.

Finally after another long sigh Rogers shifted his feet and looked at Leonora. His eyes didn't quite meet hers, instead they settled somewhere near her top lip and nose. "Ready the men. I want everyone ready to go within five minutes."

She slid off the table, "Everyone Sir?" she questioned surprised. That would leave no one here at the base….

"Everyone." Rogers replied his eyes finally resting on hers, "We leave nothing."

The chill washed through her again as she stared into his eyes. Her stomach turned as she registered what he meant. Slowly she nodded, feeling her breath quicken with anger and her eyes welling with tears. Swallowing hard she tried to keep her face straight as she replied. "Ack…. Yes Sir." was all she could say. She didn't even wait for him to dismiss her, whirling around she fled the command hole. She couldn't let him se her cry. She was a Starfleet officer; this was part of her job. And if she ever wanted to sit in the big chair she was going to have to do exactly what he was doing.

Rogers turned to Cob, "Go." he instructed him simply.

Slightly confused Cob stood and saluted. His brow knitted as he left the room. Passing the lieutenant in the hall he paused, "Sir?" he questioned, still not understanding what had just transpired.

"Go pack Private. Tell the men we are moving out in five. Be quick." she said staring at the floor.

Nodding, Cob turned from her, frowning as he made his way back to the heart of the bunker.

Rogers took up the receiver; sliding heavily into the wobbly wooden chair he depressed the com button. "This is Captain Rogers. Your orders are to hold. Repeat, your orders are to hold. Please confirm…"

In the hallway Leonora let out a wail, the surge of emotion was overwhelming. Her breath caught in her chest and a dull ach punctured the space where her heart used to be. For all at once it shattered in her chest. Leaning against the wall she slid to the floor covering her mouth with her hand she cried, the tears cascading down her cheeks in waves.

"Accusations"

Lietuenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda
Tir'len (npc'd by Chris)

Era had been given strict instructions not to wander above ground, yet her sense of direction was poor and her mind wandered just as much as her feet. She thought of home, and of the Miranda, and the prospect of people who were useless. And yet deserved to live.

It was a tough concept to swallow, and yet the more time she spent on occupied Romulus, the more useless she felt and the more she had to understand her own place.

Tir'len rubbed his temples as he followed the underground passageways, one of which ran right up to the grounds of his hospital and he'd 'never' known it existed before today. Was rather an interesting find... he hoped news didn't break among the patients.

And then he saw her.

"You bitch!"

Era turned around, an evident question of "me?" plastered on her face.

Then she saw who was talking to her and her eyes narrowed. "I thought we got passed the name-calling."

He stormed up, wishing he had something hard or sharp in his fists.

"You killed one of my patients!"

"You stupid man! Can't you tell the difference between me and a Hydran? Or did you never learn to count past two?" She took a step toward him, her fists balled.

He shoved her back. "A Hydran would know better than to put a helpless person in a combat situation you arrogant, insolent, idiotic, ruthless, blood thirsty shrew!"

Era stepped back from the shove, then came back and pushed him hard.

"I saved lives that day, you coward!"

"Yours! And I hardly think you're worth the sacrifice!" He shoved her harder this time.

"Not mine, you pointy-eared jack-ass!" She grunted from the shove and kicked his shin.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Tir'len grabbed the wounded appendage, hopping down on one foot before finally responding by head-butting Era. "Liar!"

It sent Era to the ground with a gasp of pain. "Fuck!"

"What you did was tantamount to killing an unarmed civilian!

Criminal!" He emphasized it by using his good leg to give her a hard kick in the stomach. "And for what?!"

Era curled her body around his leg, preventing another kick and at the same time trying to pull him down. "They chose to help! And I saved lives, you arrogant prick. People who saved even more lives because they survived that day."

Her trick worked, he fell flat on his ass with an 'ooompf' but little more. "They don't have the 'ability' to chose to help! Do you honestly think they knew, the way you or I know, what they were getting into?! You saved what, the lives of your own people?! At the expense of mine! The ones you were sent to protect?! You call me arrogant, yet you assume your own lives worth more!" He backhanded her.

The taste of blood from her split lip infuriated her. She launched herself at him. In a clearer state, she would have known that she was no match for him physically, yet at the moment she didn't care. Her fists came down hard at his head. "They can choose! You just keep them subjugated for your own sick power-trips!"

He grabbed her fists, forced to the ground by the power behind them, and rolled over until he was on top of her, reaching for a rock, piping, something to hit her with. "You obnoxious, stupid, moronic twit! A common Rigelian whore has more decency than you!"

"I did what I thought was right!" She spat at him, using the action to hide the panic that had arisen from being held helpless by a mad-man.

He grabbed her uniform lapels and threw her back against the ground.

It wasn't too hard, not for lack of trying, but enough to knock the breath clean out. "You were wrong!" He shouted at some point between depression and maddening hysteria. "You came to a world you knew nothing about, among a people you knew nothing about, and immediately began interfering! What the hell did it matter anyway, wasn't your people who's lives you were risking!" He pulled his fist back as if he was about to strike, but there was something in the way she looked, the gaze in her eyes, that made him pause and realize enough had been said and done already. If he 'did' kill her, he'd have sunk to her level, and that wasn't something he was prepared to do.

"You pulled me in," she hissed. "You trapped me, you manipulated me."

She lifted her chin. "Go ahead. Hit me. You think I don't see his face every day? You think I don't care about what happened? You have no right to judge me!"

"And you had no right judging them, but you did anyway!" Tir'len thundered back, rolling off to the side. "Useless, I believe is how you put it. You call your self a scientist, yet you speak like a fanatic!"

"You Romulans know all about fanaticism, don't you?!"

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Era laughed. There was no mirth in it - just anger and rage and derision. "That you're nothing! You're a little man in a big galaxy and you're pissing yourself you're so scared."

"And what are you, little woman?"

Era didn't have a good answer for that, but she'd be damned if she admitted that to him. "Watch your tone!"

"Or what?! You'll kill me too?! Your people come here in the name of our protection... then you hide among us like so many human shields so the Hydrans kill us looking for you! Then you go and kill them in the name of our security, so they kill 'my' people in revenge! You feed a cycle! A vicious cycle that punishes everyone else for 'your'

actions! Murderer!"

"You can't blame us for the cruelties of the Hydrans! What kind of logic is that?! Oh, that's right, Romulans don't like logic. Reminds you too much of your successful, honest cousins!"

"I'm not blaming you for what the Hydrans do, I'm blaming you for giving them a reason!" He punched her arm.

"Owe!" She kicked him. "Stop hitting!"

Tir'len sighed, leaning back against the wall, sitting on the floor... they'd 'really' gotten themselves deep. "You didn't have to inform the family. You couldn't even be bothered to say what happened."

"I had to go with my people," she growled, forcing back the sudden swelling of guilt. She'd never thought of that. "I had my duties to perform."

"Tell yourself that, if you must. But don't lie in such a fashion to me. You left because it was easier than doing what should have been done." He gulped. "Shouldn't really blame you too much, you're not the first, nor are you likely to be the last to do so."

Era shook her head. "That's not how it was." Damnit, why did she care what this man thought of her?

"Then how was it?"

"Why bother?" she sighed. "It won't change your mind."

"Try me."

Era pulled herself into a sitting position. "The Hydrans were defeated. They had a clear path back to the hospital. There were injured among my people, and I was under someone else's authority. If there'd been the chance to stay, I would have. I stand by my decision."

"I see." Tir'len murmured totally unconvinced. "So your kind of carelessness is not unique in the Federation."

Why was she sitting here, just taking this? "Fuck off." She rose to her feet and began down the corridor.

He watched her for a bit before beginning to break out laughing hysterically. It was just 'too' damned funny not to.

“Digital Angel”

Lt. jg Naranda Sol Roswell
Lt. Savant
Various NPCs (Eric and Colin)

*****USS Galaxy, Main Engineering*****

Naranda rushed through the doors of Engineering and went straight to a console to check systems. "Report!" She almost dared anyone to say something about her being late. She could get reprimanded later, but not now. Now they had to do nothing short than save the day.

The computer replied coolly - it reported with a string of system reports as class-five diagnostics rippled throughout the ship's processes, feeding the information back to the acting chief. The number of flagged and red lines in the report was disheartening.

The computer complied as usual. She looked about a bit at the engineers working. She meant vocal reports as well. "Well?" While she waited for the answer, she turned back and tried to rid the system of some of those red lines and flags. She clenched her jaws. They would go into battle and damned if she would let the ship down. Or the crew.

Someone shouted up from the upper level of the engineering bay in response, "The core's hot! We're getting stress fracturing in the crystals, twenty-seven thousand kilopascals!"

Another shout, this one from the reactor monitoring room - not too distant from Nara. "We've got to drop the reactor rate back down for awhile or the starboard transfer conduit's going to pop, Ma'm. Someone did a slapdash job on its last maintenance." And then all hell broke loose. The decks shuddered from the impact of T'Kith'Kin fire and a consol somewhere popped in a shower of sparks - no one was near thankfully.

"Keep me updated on the core. Drop the reactor rate, but get it working to go back up." All these words were a bit broken when she clung to the console before her. "And report on what THAT did!" She kept trying to work at the console, adjusting to bring the lines down, flags off, and such.

The engineers went about under her orders - the engineer beside her replied, "Yes Ma'm, I'll drop it down to ninety-seven." Then a beat, "Looks like the starboard PTC went down! Damcon team five is en route."

"Lovely," she muttered as she nodded.

Another hit rocked the vessel, shaking and moaning as damage was soaked up by the shields. "Starboard deflectors sections 7 through 10 down 15%!" A tech called from the second level.

Another one cried out - a bit of panic in his voice, "Nara, we're losing primary impulse control!"

"Get them back up!" She ignored the lack of protocol. Again, no time for such things. She moved over to him, "Why are we losing it?"

"Primary interface banks have been damaged, feedback from that last hit Ma'am!" Another voice called out, emanating from a pair of feet sticking out of an opened wall panel. "Working on it now."

Nara nodded, "Good." She went back and frowned. It seemed as if MORE red lines and flags popped up. She went to working on the console, ears ready for any reports from the crew.

Things were getting worse, and quickly - once battle was joined it was nearly impossible to keep up with the endless scroll of problems. In the end all one could do was attend to the worst things and hope that it went alright. However, there were sometimes *pleasant* unexpected surprises as well. "Coupling three on the Starboard PTC just started cracking, Ma'm! It's going to blow on the damage con- wait a minute." He looked over at Nara,

"Did you just shut down the starboard PTC?"

Nara looked over, "No, but that's a good idea."

"But it just shut down *on its own*." He pointed at the screen, "Temperature's dropping down to normal again. They don't' just shut themselves off - never mind. There's more important things to do."

Her brows furrowed a bit. Something to investigate later. "Is the team ok?"

"They're fine - panicked, but they're fine."

"Understood. Can they work?"

"Impulse controls restored to full functionality, Ma'am," the pair of feet called out over the din."

"I'm sure fight control would kiss you."

He shrugged and tabbed at a control on his screen, which provided a text version of the damage control team's reply, "They're on it now. They want two minutes."

"Only if it's Ms Dobryin," he said, crawling out from the wall.

"They have it until circumstances say otherwise." She didn't acknowledge the punch line.

The man beside Nara continued typing - fine-tuning the power systems of the ship to avoid damaged and strained areas - as he spoke, "We've lost a few veineers in the impulse vents, but we've got most of our maneuvering back.

They've seized - we'll have to wait until they cool off before we can fix them."

She let out a breath and nodded, "The second they're cool enough."

Exasperated she blurted, "Don't we have like a super intelligent super computer here somewhere?"

"Probably," LtJG John JJ Schmidt quipped. "I heard rumors bout her, but I hear she went wacko recently."

A voice came from the computer - sort of. It hung just behind her ear, as if someone was leaning close and whispering to her. "Actually, I'm just a program. But I'm flattered."

Hearing them, she spoke firmly, "Gossip later. Work now."

Nara blinked as it registered to her. She turned around, and she wondered, and decided to guess. "Savant?" Surely not. Surely she was just losing her mind.

She figured with all she's been through on this ship. It was bound to happen.

"At your service," the voice purred. It was asynchronous, calm and almost whimsical amidst the catastrophe. But there it was. The voice was low enough that no one else could hear it.

"Well, it might be less unnerving if I were losing my mind. Anyway, you see the issues we're having?"

John turned and grinned. "Holographic projectors are wonderful, ain't they Savant," he inquired as he turned to another consol, readjusting this and that.

Though there was no visible image, the grin was audible. "I'm marginally aware of them, what with the fact that I inhabit them."

John received similar treatment, a voice in his ear as if Savant were speaking in confidence. Both John and Nara could hear her now, but no one else. The two were getting strange looks from the others. "Once this issue is done with, I have several on order."

"Well, not sure I'm allowed to ask, but right now living and getting a reprimand seems a better alternative to the ship blowing up, so some help would be appreciated."

She ignored the others' looks. So she looked crazy. They still had to listen to her.

"Thine desire be evermore my motive. Appoint the task and thou shalt see't perform'd."

Nara rolled her eyes at the speech. She looked over the system checks again.

She tried to prioritize. How was life support? Weapons? Shields? Engines?

Which was worse off? Which would her or her crew not be able to fix quickly?

Her mind worked as quickly as any humanoids could. Likely still too slow for the likings of a program like Savant.

Then Nara decided rather than a problem; a job. It might be beneath Savant, but it was the best she could think of. "Mind doing the allocating power?

I'll call on your for an emergency, but that'd be a great help for right now."

A few of the people around her looked around and someone asked, "Which of us?"

Nara frowned, not realizing they couldn't hear Savant, "Savant."

John grinned. "Return to your work, boys and girls, this conversation is private." He snickered.

They seemed satisfied with that answer and did as asked.

She sounded dreadfully amused, especially by the reactions the other engineers were having. She didn't have a body with which to interact with humanity, so often did so by proxy. "Agreed," she replied.

Almost instantly, the power control board seemed to take on a life of its own. Faster than any person could type, power flows diverted, ending as damage and strain made paths unusable and beginning as auxiliaries took over. The man at this board took a half step back in surprise.

Nara looked at the man and smirked, "Your job was just taken over. Please find another." She sighed feeling a bit better. It was almost like a digital angel came to help. Not that Nara would tell Savant for risk or enlarging what she was sure a very large ego.

She and the others got back to work fixing systems. No less of a controlled chaos, but things were getting done faster. A sustained volley shook the great starship, much harder than before. So much at the same time, it overwhelmed the inertial dampners for a critical few milliseconds, tossing everyone about! "Port side shield sections 13 through 18 down to 10%!" A lowly little crewman yelled, seeing the red - almost black - indicators on his screen.

"That's way too low!" Nara moved to the console and looked, tapping at it.

Pursing her lips. Human nature repelled at the realization they needed help.

"Savant! Port side shields 13-18. Whatever you can do please."

Auxiliary generators hummed to unbidden life in response to the buckling shields; dormant plasma conduits urging them to assume their duties and reinforce the failing deflectors. Nara's screen was still grim, however - under such a pounding, even the reinforcements would soon fail.

Despite the urgency, Savant remained entirely calm-sounding. "Evacuate the areas around the generators. I'll try flushing the boson buildup, but it's going to mean a lot of radiation."

Nara nodded to John, delegating the job to him.

"Alright, Decks 10 and 11, sections 24, 25, and 26, this is Main Engineering. I need everyone to evacuate those areas immediately. Close up shop and get the hell out." He tapped the badge, closing the line before anyone could come back with a witty retort - that was his job.

As the areas evacuated, bulkheads sealed behind the closing doorways. They were radiation resistant and would block most of the side-effects. Perhaps not all, but anti-hydroxyl medications were abundant in inventory, so treatment was assured. There was a brief shudder as the shield generators vented streams of radiation into space. Ripples of blue cerenkov radiation spilled out across the bombarded hull of the ship.

"Past the Point of No Return"

Ensign Faylin McAlister

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

Romulus-As News Spreads The Fleet Has Returned-

The games of make believe were at an end for the woman as she studied the skies as the people crowded around her. Steven was at her side, although his actions were no longer known to her. Her anger bubbled within her. The dark knight stared at her, instantly breathing her in towards him. There was no used to her resisting any longer. He started to stir, anxious to have her as his yet again.

Flicking his wrist, he felt her inward struggle and smiled a crocked, evil smile. Anger at the fire of war, anger at the wickedness her soul wanted to feel, anger at the seductive nature she contained within herself were flaring, much to his sinister delight.

The secrets she kept revolted, wanting free, wanting to escape her and fly away to a land where they would be revealed. Her gaze narrowed, the darkness weaved itself around her soul, chocking the goodness out of it. Blinking quickly, something or someone bumped her. However, she knew who it was.

"What do you want?' She whispered.

"You know what I want...." He hissed in her ear.

"You........Faylin......you must give it to me....."

She closed her eyes, her mind groaning forcefully as the rusted lock around her soul opened. The flames within her fast consuming her, the heat ruining her cool temperature. "I can not."

He laughed at her, his knowledge of his power against her only he knew. "I will have you again. You will be mine once more my darling.

I will own you. He already owns you."

"That I know....I know he owns me."

"He doesn't know it......Seduce him backkk." His voice low, a growl of a depth only she could hear in this one sided conversation. The dark figure's finger caressed her cheek, while he buried his face in her hair. Her smell, he was obsessed with it. He created this creature for his purpose, she had yet to fulfill it. She was very close. Faylin needed to abandon thought and let him take over control.

His minion was she. She was possessed, her true calling was just within her reach. "You are past the point of no return...." His red eyes closed as he started to circle her with painstaking slowness.

Stopping, he steeled his gaze upon her, bearing into her soul he cupped her face with his hands. "Faylin.......stop fighting me."

She closed her eyes, her mouth turned downwards. He spun around her, his crimson robe covered her completely against the celebrating of the fleet returning. He silenced the joy, forcing her to pay attention to him and only him. Faylin knew....the crescendo of the past barrelled against her chest, forcing her to gasp.

He smiled. A smile of knowing, his tender passionate voice filled her ear yet again. "It's all I ask................seduce him.......get his secrets.........know who he is."

She spun on her heels, breaking the force for a moment. "I already know who he is." She spat with venom. "He's............."

The open gloved hand shadowed itself against the moon as it rose, signaling the end of the struggle she was feeling. The other spun her close to him, the palm of his free hand grasping her gently at the base of her neck as he nestled into her closely raising her head to rest against his upper chest. The devil started closing his fingers against the moonlight, one by one as he viewed his mistress's darker side begin to give in to his wishes. "He's? Who? Who is he Faylin?

Who is he really? Tell me........." The tension he felt was about to be released with one single admission.

"He's mine." She spoke with exhaustion in her tone. Faylin opened her eyes, completely black, with no hint of emotion as the sweet seduction of desire won her over to his charms. She leaned her head back voluntarily this time, as he brought his hand up underneath her chin claiming his prize with the steady grasp of his long fingers. Faylin brought her hand up, clamping down on his attempting to pry it from her throat in one final attempt. His fingers tightened, causing hers to release from his pressure. She fainted for a moment under his control. His eyes narrowed to slits, his hunger now satisfied as she gave way for him to have her completely. The serpent held her against his body, pleasure beating within him at his conquest of her again.

Her limp body awoke a short time later, and she responded to his touch as a woman who understood what was at hand. "He's mine." Faylin whispered with a new determination.

"Yyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeessssssssssss........he is. Only one thing stands in the way....the way to your freedom. Get rid of the problem Faylin....."

"How?"

"You know how, my princess, don't you?" As he turned around to face her, his face emitted a love only known between the most secret of partners. Secrecy, had it's place here, between her desires and wants, and her true needs. He knew her needs, and he knew what she wanted and desired most. His chest burst with pride as he viewed her finish the transformation before him.

Faylin lowered her head, her gaze settling on the imaginary picture of her target. "Yes.........I most certainly do."

"Counter-Offensive" Part One

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion
Lieutenant Commander Mo'Bar Chief of Security/ Hazard CO USS London
Pilot Paulo "Hawkeye" DiMillo
Battle Chaplain Sanguinus Ephrial Templar
Senator tr'Khnialmnae (Eric)

________________________________

NPC's shamelessly put in the line of fire for the purposes of keeping our PC's alive:

The Death Company
USS London Hazards

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

There weren't a whole lot of Marines left, and those that were around were typically from mixed units. The 101st itself was effectively at 20% combat strength, with a number of officers and senior enlisted being taken out of the fight. For'kel himself had a bit of a limp, one that was a recent phenomena so to say. His legs had worked fine right up until he sat down with Arel for something approaching lunch, and afterwards it seemed his body was protesting moving anywhere. It really wasn't 'painful'... just a constant, numb, tightness.

One of the sections of the underground had been chosen for the next briefing. For'kel chose his people as carefully as he could. It would be no easy task assaulting a Headquarter's element. Word is a full company of Hydrans defended the structure at any given time. In addition to that, there were automated defenses, forcefield networks, the works.

For'kel took a deep breath before addressing everyone gathered. He knew most of them thought this would be another simple hit and run, the tactic was favored regardless of the target. They were going to be in for a bit of a surprise. The Colonel placed the butt of his rifle against the ground, trying not to make it too obvious he was using it for support. "Here's the deal. It's been decided we need to provide the fleet with as much intelligence on our Hydran counterparts. The plan is to get in close to their HQ without setting off any alarms. We'll gain entry, secure the building, hack their computers, and use their own comm relays to transmit the data."

Hawkeye nodded. "Sir," he started, "anyway we could add a flight strip to the attack plan? It would help a lot, not only here but in any future battles, if we could get our hands on one or two Hydran fighters. Knowing how they work could help save many officers in the future."

For'kel thought on it. Certainly it would be a good find to get ahold of a fully operational, front-line fighter. "There should be a fighter base a couple of kilometers from the HQ. If we have time, we'll scope it out."

Hawkeye nodded.

Battle Chaplain Templar stood to the side of the main body, a contingent of soldiers just behind him. Large muscle bound brutes, each was only outclassed in sheer physicality by Templar himself. They were complimented by a selection of scrawny mischevious individuals.

These were his men and women, the black clad Death Company. They had sworn to follow him to hell and back again, should it come down to it.

"Brother Colonel, should this mission require exessive use of force, the Death Company stands ready."

For'kel raised an eyebrow. He really needed to start asking people where it was they raised their private militia's from. Still, he was glad they were there. "I'll keep that in mind." His eyes drifted

back to the group at large. "We'll need to move quickly and quietly.

As soon as we hit the place they're likely to call for reinforcements, so we'll have minutes at most. Ready?"

Hawkeye nodded and picked up his phaser rifle and double checked it. "Ready."

"Okay." For'kel slung his rifle over his shoulder. There were others waiting for them... between his remaining Marines, the Romulans, and mixed units containing Starfleet Security, Hazard, an odd downed pilot or so, and Marines from other units, about 300 troops had been assembled for this one assault.

The rest were waiting outside, but everyone knew the plan. They were as ready as they would ever be. "Let's go."

-----

Elsewhere...

Mo'Bar had spent almost eleven days evading capture, and he started to get the feeling that in that time he had covered almost every square inch of Ki Baratan. If not, he'd likely covered the equivalent number of inches, only several times. This was Romulus after all, it all looked the same. Of his Hazard Unit that had started this mission to ch'Rihan, all that accompanied him now were Seven Men. Well, Six Men, and the units female XO. Mo'Bar had heard nothing of what had happened to those that he'd started this campaign with, but he'd be damned if he was gonna give up.

He knew that there was still fighting going on throughout Ki Baratan, and presumably the rest of the planet, and maybe that was why his team had managed to survive for as long as they had. The Hyrdans were getting more than they bargained for. Mo'Bar just wished he could get in on the action that much more.

They were making their way to the target in platoons of 50. 4 Platoons would secure the corners of the facility itself, the remaining 2 being the assault force. The Headquarters was a fairly substantial building not far from the seat of the Romulan government, making a large force necessary if they were going to remain long enough to get the job down.

Templar and the Death Company constituted one of those assault platoons, the other being a force of Rihannsu led by none other than Senator tr'Khnialmnae, and included the two praetorians he still commanded. The various military commanders had tried to convince him to stand down, but he would have none of it. "I've been a soldier in my day, and I still retain my knack for battles and tactics: once a soldier, always a soldier. Besides which, I lead by example - by putting my own life on the line in full view of those I intend to lead when all is said and done, the People will support me more thuroughly when they undersand that their leader is willing to die to protect those he Serves."

The pointman of the group gave the halt signal. They all dropped to one knee, except For'kel who found it far less physically demanding to simply crouch and make his way up to the front. "What is it."

"About a hundred meters off our right." The Bolian murmured. "A squad, seven or eight."

For'kel narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the sillhouettes. They certainly didn't seem to be Hydran, but that didn't necessarily make them friendly either. He'd been shot at by Romulans once too many to assume otherwise. "Second and third squads take the flanks. First squad get a fix, fourth is with me." They had to go and make contact after all. If he was going to die, today was going to be it. For'kel seemed certain of it.

Paulo took up a position behind the 'Colonel as he lead the way in.

Paulo really hated being a ground pounder, but he had gotten the hang of it in the past few weeks, but he wasn't perfect. That being shown that he had been captured and later rescued.

"'Commander" Lieutenant Welsh called out, as she approached him. "I've got life sign readings. Lots of them. I think we're surrounded sir."

"We prepare for the worst." Mo'Bar ordered, glancing at his troops.

"Assume defensive positions. If we go down, we go down fighting."

Crouching behind a small wall, Mo'Bar waited for whatever was to come.

Hopefully, it wouldn't bring with it death.

The orders were bassed down to the various Platoon Leaders, and each unit grabbed whatever cover there was, positioning themselved to place Arvelion and the Command Team in the center of the conglomerate formation for maximum security and defence. It wouldn't do to loose Command and Controll so soon into the operation.

For'kel stopped and took a knee to observe the situation. The unit they encountered was arrayed in a defensive perimeter. What gave them away however wasn't what he saw... the Stagnorian determined there was a 'definite', and distinct sound of a translator putting Klingon into standard. He whispered loudly enough to be heard, and quickly enough to keep his own position secret.

"Marines?"

"No, Hazard." Came a reply.

Son of a bitch, For'kel thought to himself sighing. "We almost shot you!" Still, it was better than running into a squad of Hydrans. "Come on, we've got a mission to accomplish and I can use your help."

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

(The Hydran District HQ)

The District HQ was located in a fairly opulent building that might have been a hotel or conference structure for high-ranking Romulans. He wasn't really sure, For'kel was too tired to give a damn anyway. It was big, lavishly decorated, and had a classical look to it. Outside, at least a platoon of Hydrans, reinforced by Breen and T'Kith'kin squads...

That sure as hell didn't bode well. There was no telling how many were actually in the structure, and such security typically meant there were rather high-level people involved. The convoy of young Romulan women in magnetic restraints, followed by old men being brought in hauling what looked like looted fineries and high-class goods made it obvious to him that his initial assumptions were right. This was going to be even tougher than he thought.

"Templar, get your men into firing position. Make sure you designate targets. If things go badly you're going to have to complete the mission. I need five volunteers, who's with me?"

"Maestro"

Flt. Admiral Victor Murdock
Marshall Severina Jovanovic
Captain Matthew Albrecht
Lt. Colonel Gail Dawson
Lieutenant Onara Landia
Lieutenant Arlen Hammertly
LtJG Chris Daniels
Ensign Kelly Marcos
CPO Seran Aerk

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

CIC, Deck 7
USS Miranda

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

"They're waking up!" one of the junior officers called from across the CIC.

Albrecht checked his chrono. "Six minutes. Not bad - longer than we thought."

Chris checked the master holo-table. So far, so good on the battle.

But they hadn't been able to knock out all the disabled ships in six minutes, so the hornet's next would be buzzing shortly.

"Sir, Hydran fighters warming up to launch! Estimate 3 minutes before they're in the air!" came the call from CPO Aerk.

Chris looked at Murdock, Albrecht and the other assembled fleet staff.

"Recommend we launch all our remaining fighters and move to intercept, sir."

Lieutenant Onara glanced up from her position on the starboard side of the CIC, surrounded by the various fighter coordination staff. "I concur, Admiral."

"Do it, then." Murdock nodded, and heard Jovanovic calling the orders out to the flight decks across the fleet. All assets were now in play, save for the Marines.

Standing behind one of the communications techs, and diminutive woman in a crisp white uniform smiled tightly, three new stars glinting from her collar. Severina Jovanovic had been a fighter division commander a week before, when Admiral Murdock had walked into her office and handed her another star. Strictly speaking, she didn't have an official command yet. She had just been brought along with the flag staff and given operational authority over all fighter craft in the fleet.

Turning to the Master Chief next in the chair beside her, Jovanovic gave a clipped order. "Signal the fleet; full launch. Order the 176th Division to exclusively engage T'Kith'kin units and hold them clear of the capital ships. The Hydran and Breen fighters don't have quite so many heavy weapons on them. Let the other fighters deal with them. Tell the Seventeenth Wing to fall into escort around the flagship, and make sure someone is doing the same for the other three flagships. If not, send them some of ours."

At this point the Starbeast felt the brunt of transphasic torpedoes hitting its shell. Chris got his hopes up too soon, and they quickly crashed as scans showed the thing had survived. In the ensuing confusion, he listened to the bridge conversation about the plan to send the Starbeast into the T'Kith'Kin fleet. ~Good idea, but who's protecting us against the other 1100 ships out there?~ he thought to himself.

Almost on cue, the ship took a hit, not a severe one, but enough to rattle some people's teeth. Hammertly turned angrily from his station at Weapons Control. "Dammit, Daniels, we need weapons release authority down here! We would have nailed him if we did."

Chris tapped the headset he was wearing with the bridge link on it.

"K'aa, am I going to get firing authority???"

The reply from the Gorn was almost overwhelmed by a deep crackling sound filling the Miranda's hull. [Aft-port, aft, and aft-starboard firing arcsss only, Chrisss – K'aa authorization beta-tango-five.

Fusssion-beam capital shipsss only at thissss time – no Hellbore targetsss unless threatening part of our fleet."

Chris grunted...getting half of the firepower was good enough, he guessed. He entered his own access code, and one of the stations in front of him became a targeting and trigger panel. "Hammertly, transfer aft weapons fire consent the CIC. Marcos, find me something big to shoot."

His two co-workers hustled into action, searching for targets and bringing up firing controls.

Marcos called out from the Combat Control station. "I have a Hydran carrier bearing two-two-one, 97 km, looks like he's trying to broadcast to the fleet."

Chris nodded and looked over at Hammertly. "Weapons free, Mr. Daniels."

Chris didn't hesistate. He had three dead crewmen to pay the Hyrdrans back for. He depressed the trigger and watched as three different phaser arrays broadcast their angry message into the carrier, lancing through the hull. As it began to roll listlessly, he got a sick sense of retribution from it.

"Jamming signals coming from the T'Kith'Kin, switching to secondary frequencies."

K'aa's deep hissing once again came through Chris's headset. "CIC – ssselecting new targetsss on forward attack vector… detail ssscansss on T'Kith T'Kin Trilobite-class in the forward formation."

"We're on it, K'aa." Chris pointed at Aerk, manning Sensor Control, who aimed the sensors to that area.

As the junior officers worried about the Miranda, Murdock and his people were concerned about the fleet at large, watching the movements and formations, the ebb and flow of the battle now that the Hydrans and the Breen were back into it.

"Cruiser Wing 6 and Destroyer Wings 12 and 32 - move to Quadrant a-14 and engage that Hydran carrier group. Galaxy wing three, you've got a Hiveship group coming up on your flank. Use attack pattern Delta-three." the old Scotsman ordered. He watched in satisfaction as the group, headed up by the Venture, followed the orders and successfully annihilated the T'kith'kin carrier and it's attendant destroyers. Unfortunately, the attack cost him two ships - an old Excelsior, the Brian Henry, and one of the Klingon Vor'cha's - the D'khegh, if he read it right.

From CiC, the battle proceeded in such a fashion - marred only by the occasional rocking of the ship. Still, the Admiral wasn't worried about the Miranda. Jaxom and his people up on the bridge would keep her going.

The big problem was that damn starbeast. It's effectiveness was hampered by the fact that all allied ships were staying out of the range of it's attacks, striking only with torpedo strikes. But even transphasics just weren't doing enough damage. Blast it all, what the hell was keeping the bloody thing alive?"

Chris looked over a display of the holotable and hurried over to where Murdock and his team were standing.

"Sir, we have the Triad fleet backed into a corner. If we move this block of ships to here" he pointed to the relative locations closest to the planet--"we can back them up against their energy field and concentrate our fire from a larger mass."

Victor nodded at the young Lieutenant's assessment. The speed of the Allied fleet's attack, and the subspace pulse trick had given the allies a decisive advantage in the opening stages of the battle, and they were bulding well off of that momentum. "Aye, that's the goal. We still need ta - "

Two things then happened in quick succession - and only one of them had he planned for.

A section of the planetary shield over Romulus flared up, slightly north of the capitol of Ki Baratan. Then, he could see clearly - "The shield is down." he smiled. "Marshall - "

"On it, Admiral." the SFFC flag officer replied, tapping her comm headset. "Renegades, Paladins, Guardians, Vanguards, there's a hole in the shield. Proceed through as planned and bring down that field from the inside."

Murdock tapped his own headset after that. "Flagship to all ships - there's a hole in the shield. Launch all troop landing craft. Fighter Groups and Destroyer wings, escort them in."

He'd only barely gotten those orders out when something new popped up on the screen - Maybe two dozen contacts, coming out of warp.

"Somebody better be tellin' me who that is, and fast!" he barked out, waiting for the scan image to resolve itself.

"Checking!" 'Colonel Dawson and Lieutenant Daniels replied simultaneously. The Lieutenant came up with it first.

"Identity confirmed, Admiral... those ships.. are Lyran."

"Second Strike" pt II

Acting Captain Jaal Jaxom
Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, Acting CTO
Commander Jack Dawson, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller
Lt. Colonel Alex McKeon

==USS Miranda, Bridge==

"Jack," Jaal called from the center seat while checking his own displays in the arms of the command chair, "grab some of those fighters with the tractor beam. If they aren't gonna use them, we will."

Thankful that they had taken the time to upgrade the beam strength of the tractor beam so many years ago when Wolfson was Chief Engineer, Jack punched up the controls to coral the abandoned fighters.

"Fighters in tow, Captain. Tractor beam operating at eighty percent of capacity," he said.

"Hydran ships are coming back online!" Alex called out from the Intelligence station. "Starbeast is moving to Attack Fleet one - looks like it has a taste for us!"

"This time we aim to give him a big, bad belly-ache," Jaal commented.

He wetted his lips while waiting for McKeon's report.

The 'Colonel's hands deftly moved over it's keyboard, running a pattern match on the Starbeast's movements. "Running pattern match - confirmed. It's a Klingon ritual war-dance this time. Transferring movement pattern to the tactical computers."

["Good work, Mr. McKeon."] Murdock said over the commline. ["This is Murdock to all ships. Abandon current targets - we'll come back to 'em. Hit the starbeast with everything. As noted before, use of tranphasic torpedoes IS authorized."]

Jaal added his own authorization as was required and the appropriate lights turned green on K'aa's console. "Lock and load K'aa. Were gonna have an old fashion barbecue." He turned his attention to Dawson for a moment, "release the fighters we picked up at the next convenient target Jack. We don't want to tie up any power we could use elsewhere right now."

Reversing the polarity of the beam's emitters, Dawson hurled the cluster of fighters towards the nearest Hydran cruiser. Seconds later, they collided in a brilliant flash of light. The micro-cores of each of the fighters feeding off the others, effectively engulfing the over-confident Hydran vessel before it could raise its shields.

"Fighter's released, sir," Dawson reported.

From Tactical, a deep growling hiss came from Lieutenant K'aa, who had finished arming the first brace of transphasic torpedoes - Starfleet's most powerful weapon. "Hrsssaaaa.... ssstill cannot achieve weaponsss lock on the Ssstarbeassst, but I've loaded the movement pattern onto the firing matrix. Ready to fire on your sssignal, Captain."

"The signal is given," Jaal stated with no hesitation. "When you get the shot, take it." The commander had no intentions of wasting any opportunities, to do so would mean another defeat and that was something he knew no one on the ship would stomach. The sooner the beast was taken out the sooner mopping up the rest of the enemy could start.

From the Helm, Ramirez did his best to evade the enemy fire, to keep the enemy weapons at bay. At the same time, he tried to manoeuvre the ship closer to the Starbeast, to give the Gorn a clear shot. Not an easy feat, especially with so many ships shooting at him.

"Keep it together son" he heard from behind him. No guesses as to who the voice belonged to. He daren't look up though, he daren't take his eyes of the console. That could've meant the difference between life and death.

As the starship banked to bring the Starbeast into fore firing arc, K'aa entered the final pattern into the torpedo controls. "Manual targeting now...firing... transsssphasssic torpedoesss away!"

Five smallish, orange specks of energy flew from the Miranda's launchers in rapid succession, streaking through the vacuum towards the leviathan. The Gorn narrowed his eyes as he traced the torpedoes progress. A satisfying hiss revealed more fangs on the reptilian's stony expression - and he thanked the Klingons for being such terrible, lumbering dancers. Three torpedoes slammed into the side of the gargantuan creature, vaporizing a full third of the things incredible mass. The Starbeast slowed in its progress towards the Federation ship and writed in agony, huge, whiplike tentacles flailing randomly. Three small Hydran strike cruisers too close to their god received the wrath of its agony and burst apart like eggs as they were struck by the creatures fury.

His eyes fixed on the tactical scanner, K'aa couldn't help but marvel

at the alien behemoth's endurance. "Incredible. It'sss ssstill

alive... and regenerating, but ssslowly. Hrrrsss... it seemsss to be absssorbing the organic debrisss from the Hydran cruisersss to regenerate itsss bulk."

McKeon snorted from station. "They're cheating!" the Intel officer protested, rather loudly.

Jaal's mouth formed an unhappy sneer. There was precious little in the galaxy that could stand up to transphasic torpedoes... that was the theory anyway. The Trill hated having to test theories when the results didn't exactly go the way one wanted. He kept his eyes on the main viewer and watched as the beast seemingly magically healed itself.

A gleam of epiphany then came to the Gorn's eye and he looked from the scanner display. "Captain - we should lure the creature towardsss the T'Kith T'Kin fleet! It's insstinctsss seem to be to repair itssself even while under the compulssion to attack usss. The insssectoid warshipssss are the largessst organic targetsss in the system other than the Ssstarbeasst itssself. The resssulting chaossss would be...

consssiderable."

The Trill commander immediately began tapping away at the console on his chair's armrest. "Ramirez, make a beeline for the group of T'Kith'kin ships at four-four mark one-seven-eight fast enough to keep out of the beast's reach. K'aa, prepare another spread of transphasics. Dakota, let the rest of our group know the plan." Jaal studied his armrest readouts. The Miranda was taking hits but the shields were holding within normal parameters... for the time being.

However, the enemy really hadn't had a chance to mount a meaningful attack on the Miranda yet.

"Fair enough" John replied with a muck huff, "and there was me thinking that you wanted me to do something hard." Punching in the controls he said, "coming around to Four-Four Mark One-Seven-Eight, engines ahead full" The Miranda swung around smoothly, although Ramirez could've sworn that she didn't feel right. Didn't feel the same. He also got the feeling that he could've done much better.

A deep crackling sound filled the bridge, fading in the span of several heartbeats. "Ensssign Tagra'ss shield modification sssemss to be working – that wasss two Hellbore ssstrikess to the aft shieldsss.

Power conduitsss ssseem to be holding. The energy cassscade hass ssstrengthened our weakened shield and reduced the recharge lag on the phassser cannon by sssss… twenty-eight percent."

The reptilian's thoughts were interrupted by a comm from the CIC.

Daniel's voice was strained, but controlled. "K'aa, am I going to

get firing authority???"

The ships approaching to aft were getting too close for the Gorn's comfort. [Aft-port, aft, and aft-starboard firing arcsss only, Chrisss – K'aa authorization beta-tango-five. Fusssion-beam capital shipsss only at thissss time – no Hellbore targetsss unless threatening part of our fleet."

Looking at the Miranda's new approach vector, K'aa targeted a T'Kith

T'Kin warship in the vanguard of the Insect fleet. ""CIC – ssselecting new targetsss on forward attack vector… detail ssscansss on T'Kith T'Kin Trilobite-class in the forward formation."

When the Miranda hummed once more under the recoil of the great weapon's discharge, the Gorn realized that this was the first time he had engaged the Hive in open warfare. The Breen and the Hydrans were races he understood and could rationalize. The T'Kith T'Kin represented a sinister unknown, a society even more insular and xenophobic than his own, yet expansionist and capable of genocidal atrocities. A cold shiver raced up his spine as his scanners showed a

bright plume on the enemy ship's front shielding. "Glancing hit –

targetsss fore shieldsss are at fifty-two percent. We are at nineteen-thousand kilometersss and closssing fast. The Ssstarbeassst isss in full persssuit… ".

More loud crackling announced the impact of more Hellbore fire accompanied by Fusion-beam strikes on the Miranda's aft shields. Once again the damaged shields were shored with the extra energy, and K'aa was inwardly delighted when the phaser cannon's recharge cycle was halved.

Jaal decided someone was getting a medal for those shield modifications. If this had been the last battle they would have retreated by now. He anxiously watched the T'Kith'Kin ships loom larger on the screen.

As the Miranda began leading the Starbeast towards the T'Kith'Kin portion of the Triad fleet, Jaal heard something interesting come up on the fleet channel - orders to land ground troops. Apparently there was a hole in the shield now.

"New contacts!" Alex called out, shortly after they'd heard orders being issued to the fighter squadrons to take down the shield from the inside, and to other squadrons to escort the hoppers in. On the screen, they could already see thousands of fighters and landing fraft heading for the hundred-kilometer hole someone had opened over Ki Baratan with, of all things, nukes. "More ships coming in, Captain."

"What are they?"

Alex spun around to face Jaal in his chair. "I might be wrong, but it looks like they're.. Lyrans."

"Doomsday" pt III

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Commander Arel Smith
Lt. Commander Spa'an
Major Peter Shaw
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Admiral Sela

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

The Undercity
Ki Baratan, Romulus
21 Days after the Withdrawal

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

A moment later, Krieghoff returned - hand wrapped tightly around Admiral Sela's forearm. "Tell your henchman to unhand me, Elaithin."

"He's not my henchman, Sela, he's a Starfleet officer."

"Same thing," she said acidly.

"No," Victor said softly. "Not really. Henchmen follow orders out of loyalty to an individual and their goals. I follow his orders out of respect, which is a different thing entirely. No matter what he told me, or what he wanted, if I thought you were a threat to him or the others I would have killed you without blinking. I almost did it anyway."

"An almost militaristic doctrine, one with which you should be supremely familiar," Spa'an added, practically taunting the Vulcan-disdaining Romulan with his cool tone and effortlessly raised eyebrow. Jii was not the only one who was familiar with Sela. The science officer's contacts on Romulus had provided him with enough information on the Admiral to make her far more than a familiar face.

Elaithin fixed a firm stare on the Romulan Admiral, and folded his arms. "You know what this is, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Care to share with us, Admiral?" Arel asked, her hand tightening on her phaser.

Sela blew out a breath between her lips. "It's a... backup plan. From during the Earth-Romulan War. Some were terrified that Earth forces would conquer our world, and so this was built, in the event that the situation ever became so untenable. We would die before we were enslaved."

"A doomsday device," Jii said under his breath, in astonishment.

"You'd destroy the entire planet, rather than let anyone else have it?"

"Rather than be conquered by a civilization they couldn't possibly understand to Only Knows what ends," Jordan replied, eyes focusing on the Romulan in front of her. "In a way, Jii, we should be able to understand. Sometimes desperation and fear makes us act in irrational ways that will be detrimental in the long run."

"Indeed," Spa'an concurred. "And Romulan and Terran history are both replete with many illustrations."

"I always thought the Romulans where stupid," Pete said and got a few glares. "Well, coming from my perspective we all knew Earth wasn't going to conquer the planet." He looked around, "anyway we can use this to help the fleet when they come back?"

"No." Jii shook his head. "The only thing we can do is destroy it, to keep the Hydrans from using it."

"You don't have that authority, "General." Sela interjected, sneeringly. "This is a Romulan military installation - "

"- Which you knew about, and had reason to suspect was under Hydran control, or you wouldn't have followed us, Sela." Elaithin interrupted. "So your opinion on the matter doesn't mean a damn thing to me. I will not allow this planet to be destroyed. Not by a fool like you, who would have used it three weeks ago, or by fools like them, who would use it soon. Because do know this - The Miranda and the Galaxy will return to this world, and when they do, they will be bringing a whole bunch of friends. And they will send the Hydrans running. Do you know how I know this?"

Sela didn't reply.

"Because I know these people, Sela. I know some better than I know myself. And they do not take failure well. And that means they will move heaven and hell to correct things - because that's who they are.

They're some of the best. This world WILL be freed. And I am not about to let the billions on this world, and the thousands more in the space around it get killed for that because your people were paranoid and crazy two hundred years ago. We are going to destroy this thing, and we're going to do it *now.* Anyone who disagrees had better get moving."

"Yes," Victor said into the silence that followed the statement. "I'll stay and do it if no one else will. I won't watch this happen. Nie weider."

No one else objected, not even Sela.

Krieghoff nodded. "All right. But before we start, I need to know

this: what sets this thing off? I need to know what to keep people away from and what to either shoot or not shoot depending on how the device is triggered. I don't want a mistake to fire this off and start something that I might not be able to stop."

Pete sat back murmuring to himself. "Great, we are going to blow up a big bomb in such a way it wont kill us all," he said under his breath.

"Well, we better decide fast. That argument just caught us some attention."

"They were coming already, Pete." Elaithin replied, clapping the Marine on the shoulder. "Right, Arel?"

The Security officer just nodded - she'd had her weapons trained on the approaching pair of guards for almost ninety seconds at that point. "Ready when you are, Captain."

Elaithin nodded. "Allright folks. On three, we storm the castle. One, two.."

"Distractions"

Gwen Parri, acting CMO
Petty Officer Thomas Eugene Boston, Engineering Specialist (Written by Stuart)

****

Sickbay
USS Exeter

****

(Occurs prior to the return to ch'Rihan for the Second battle)

Thomas, or Tommy to his friends, hobbled into sickbay. His leg felt like it was on fire. In fact, for a few moments it had been. "Is anyone able to have a look at my leg?" he asked as he made his way, in agony, over to the only unoccupied bed.

"On my way." Gwen called out without looking. "Just a minute." And indeed 56 seconds later she came to the bed. "Gwen Parri, MD." She introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I'm Thomas, Engineering specialist." he replied.

"What seems to be the problem. Can you get on the bed without help, Thomas?"

Gwen sterilised her hands, so she was ready for this next patient.

Tommy hopped up onto the bed so the young doctor could take a look. As she pealed away at the burnt uniform, and got a closer look at his now badly burnt flesh, he told her what had happened. "I was checking the Plasma conduits when one of them burst, sending hot plasma onto my leg." He nearly blanched when the smell of his burnt flesh assailed his nostrils. He didn't know how the woman could stand it.

"That must hurt like hell, Tom." She said softly. "So first I am going to give you something for the pain." The redhead administered a hypo. "And now I need to get your uniform away from your leg and clean the wounds as quickly as possible. It still might hurt a bit, but that can't be helped, I'm sorry." She looked at him with compassion.

"It hurts like hell, ma'am. But I've been through three ugly divorces, and several broken bones, and have developed a small tolerance towards pain.

That and the salve that I briefly placed on it before coming here." He smiled, hoping to forget just how bad his leg looked.

Gwen smiled at him while she put on protective glasses. "You have a positive attitude and that always helps, Tom. Now hold on."

Thomas gasped as she began pulling the tattered uniform, and shreds of the uniform from the wound.

"Nearly there, Thomas. Nearly there, then I can start healing. You are doing a great job. Three divorces you say, you must be a real heartthrob with the ladies."

"Na, not really. Just keep meeting the wrong girls." Thomas replied. "They all were like angels at the start, but as soon as that ring is on their finger, man they seemed to change overnight. What about you ma'am, are you married?"

"Engaged." Gwen said. "For the first time. And you don't need to call me ma'am. The name is Gwen. You are doing great, I am nearly there."

"How long have you been engaged for, Gwen?" He asked.

"Only a few weeks. It still very fresh, and exciting." It was good to have a conversation going out to take his mind of the pain.

Thomas nodded. His had been fairly short engagements, with the last being only a year. He had come to realize something about women in his life...

And that was that Men pretty much will never know just what women really want in a man. It had cost him his first and third marrages. That and the fact that they had wanted to change and control his life, who he could be friends with, what they did out in public and all that. He had gotten sick of the nagging really fast. Which was why he was now single and enjoying life again.

"That's the last of it. Now I can start to examine the wound. Tell me if it hurts too much, okay. I want to make this is quick and painless for you as possible."

Thomas nodded and gritted his teeth at the pain he knew was forthcoming. As she poked and prodded, he tried not to cry out, but finally couldn't take it and whimpered in pain. "That hurts." he said through his still clenched jaw.

"I'm sorry, hon. I'm trying to be is gentle as possible." She lay a cool hand on his forehead.

"Do you have anything for the pain?" Thomas asked.

"I have given you a lot already, I can give you a little more." She administered another hypo. "It won't be long now, and I will try to the extra gentle especially for you." Gwendolyn smiled.

Thomas smiled. "Thank you Gwen. Um... Begging your pardon, but I haven't seen you around the ship before. Are you new here?"

"Yes, I am. I am one of the people who came over from the Miranda to help out." She hoped and thought that he was one of the people who didn't mind their presence.

"Ah, I always wanted to get a posting on one of those, but nothing was available after my last post and I've come to like it here on this ship." His mind was fully on Gwen and the conversation they were having that he didn't notice the pain anymore.

"I could put in the good word for you. The captain is always on the lookout for good people." She knew that would keep his mind of the pain and she meant it.

"Thanks," Thomas replied, "but at the moment I have a couple of women who think I'm a... what was it you said,... 'heartthrob' and I wouldn't want to deprive them of the object of their attention.." He grinned.

"A proper Don Juan." She grinned. "How many hearts have you broken lately young man?"

"I wouldn't call myself that. But from all the broken hearts, I've learnt one thing of great importance. And that is, when you find the one person in the universe that makes your heart melt, the one person you'd die for, the one person that you don't know what you'd do without them, when you find that person, hold onto them. Don't let them go. Cause often you only get one chance at love. I haven't yet found the one for me, so if this fiancee of yours is the real deal, then hold onto them tight. Show them that you will always be there for them and they'll respond in kind." It was after that long statement that he realized that Gwen was done cleaning the wound and was in the middle of bandaging up his leg up.

"You're absolutely right." Gwendolyn said softly. "After this is all over, we will get married as soon as possible." She finished the last of the bandages. "There you go."

"Thanks doc." He replied as he tried to put his weight on the leg. Feeling very little pain, he smiled at the young woman. "That feels much better."

"I will give you some medication to take for the pain. Especially when you go to bed. And I would like to check you in a day or two."

"Sure doc. I hope you don't get too many people in here during the upcoming battle." He said. He didn't believe a word of what he had just said, but felt she might want or rather need to hear it. He knew what they were about to do was not going to be pretty. For anyone, let alone beautiful medics with a fiancee out there somewhere. "Thanks for the patch up" he said with a smile before turning for the door.

She watched him go, glad to be able to help. Has thoughts wandered back to Anjoli and the Miranda. She could only pray they would all come through the upcoming battle without too many problems. Despite being busy Gwen missed her girlfriend dreadfully. But there was no time to dwell on that too much.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Nine

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

=^="This is Captain Rogers. Your orders are to hold. Repeat, your orders are to hold. Please confirm…"=^=

At the other end of the line the Lieutenant bowed his head. He exhaled slowly letting out the breath he had been holding for what had seemed like an eternity. "Understood Captain." he replied. Once the channel was closed he tossed the receiver across the table and rested his head in his hands.

Around him the fabric of the tent that had been erected to form his own little command bunker fluttered in the breeze. Anger surged within him and he took the only inanimate object that held little importance, his cup, and threw it across the floor.

The sound as it shattered wasn't enough to quench his anger, rising from the chair brusquely, the back legs catching in the dirt ground causing it to topple backwards and make the Lieutenant trip. He cursed loudly, turned round and in his rage he kicked the chair repeatedly.

For a moment the anger threatened to consume him. His men were going to be slaughtered! Pacing the length of the tent, pausing to slam his fist on the table and curse loudly, he kicked the dirt.

Standing in the middle of the tent, the sound of the battle raging all around he shook his head at his immaturity. Grabbing several maps he spread them out across the table, smoothing them with the flat of his had. He began to study them intently, there was nothing else he could do; he had to find a way to keep the Hydrans at bay…

"Where's the Lieutenant!"

"Where do you think," nodding in the direction of the command post Tiffany ducked as a nearby explosion spread shrapnel and rubble all around, "we gotta book. Now!"

"Damn straight," Artak muttered as he crab walked behind the scant cover the hillock presented and into the command post, "Lieutenant," he started only to be interrupted.

"Sergeant, move a platoon over here," vaguely wafting a hand over the crude map on the table the Lieutenant continued without even looking up, "we have reports of Hydrans moving around to flank us to the east and I don't want to let them cut us off there."

"Sir, with all due respect, we're getting hammered out there, we should pull everyone back to the fall back positions and regroup, we've…"

"Damn it Sergeant, the Captain ordered us to hold here until ordered to pull back, and that's exactly what we're going to do. There's civilians to our rear, and if we fall back now thousands could die. Now get that platoon moved to the east. Now!"

"Which one Sir," Artak snapped, cringing slightly as the roof of the tent shook and dust fell onto every surface, "What's left of Becker's platoon is pinned to the north, T'Lell and R'shnaqu are both holding the line with the people they have left, and the rest of our people are scattered all over this shit hole."

"Dammit Artak, get some people over there now, get a scratch unit together and move them out. Get Yeager to lead it."

"Yeager, Sir, he's got less that twenty effectives, and half of them are local volunteers."

"Move!" the Lieutenant snapped finally looking up at Artak. The Centauran shied back momentarily at the gaunt and haggard visage that had turned to face him. Pale, with the obvious signs of stress and panic etched onto his face, the once calm Lieutenant was now visibly loosing it, and was reacting the only way his training and panic would allow. Follow orders.

~ Great Maker! ~ Turning he crouched and slipped out of the command post and back into the dark night beyond the red lit room. Crawling over to Tiffany he paused and nudged her as he passed, "Where's Yeager?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds of explosions and weapons fire.

"He's busy," she replied, not taking her eyes from the scope she had been glued to since sunset.

"We're all busy!" he snapped back.

"He's giving last rites." She informed him calmly, not taking her eyes from the field before her.

"Watch the Lieutenant," he warned her, "I'll be back." Scuttling away he made his way to the small medical post that had been put together in the hollow behind the bunker, here the wounded the dying and the dead were all carried. Nodding to the nurse who was

their only surviving medic now, he passed the quietly working young man and looked around for Yeager. He wasn't hard to miss. The typical marine, muscle bound and tall the Sergeant was no priest, but he had found something in this hellhole, and had started

attending the dying.

Something he had been doing all too frequently in recent days.

Watching as Yeager calmly closed the eyes of the Romulan he had been muttering over Artak waited for a second then walked over quickly. "Hey." He said loudly as he leaned close to make himself heard.

"Hey."

"Who was he?"

"Dammed if I know! Just another local kid who wanted to defend his home. I don't know half their names." ducking involuntarily as a nearby hillock vanished in a hail of fire he looked to the wiry Centuran, "They're getting closer. Luck only lasts so long old

friend."

"Agreed."

"So, are we pulling back?"

Shaking his head he looked at the ruined city behind them, if there were any civilians left there they had long since fled he decided, but the Lieutenant was blind to everything but his orders, "The Lieutenant says we hold, we stay until ordered to do otherwise."

"Is he nuts?!" Yeager snapped, "This is getting us nowhere, we only catch glimpses of the Hydrans, whereas they damn well have our position nearly locked, we stay here much longer and we're dead. Does that Bastard know that?!"

"Honestly, I don't know. Have you seen him today? He's loosing it, big time."

"Great," Yeager muttered sarcastically, picking up his phaser rifle he checked the charge, "What does the motherfucker want now?"

"There's a report of Hydrans moving around to the east, they get settled there and that's our escape all but cut off. He want's you to take your platoon over there, see what you can do."

"My platoon," half laughing, half snorting he indicated a pile of bodies nearby, "Most of my boys are there, only about half a dozen of us left. Shell fire landed right in most of their foxholes," he explained tiredly. "We're gonna need a mop to pick up the rest of

my boys." looking at Artak he sat suddenly, looking very tired he waved to the east, "they cut us off, we might as well just sit on a grenade and flip the detonator. Get it over with quick!"

"Hang on a sec," he asked. Walking over to the young Nurse Artak indicated his friend, "Shane, do me a favor. Give Yeager something to get him back on his feet, I need him mobile and alert for the next few hours. If we make it, he can rest and sleep it off. If we

don't, well." leaving the thought hanging he let Shane draw his own conclusions.

Nodding the Ensign rifled through a couple of packs and walked over to Yeager, loading a hypo as he did. Without warning the large Terran, he slipped the hypo behind his ear and activated it.

Before Shane could even stand up straight Yeager was on his feet, "Jeeeeezus." he cursed loudly as he quivered for a moment, "What the 'Fuck!' was that?!"

"Enough Amphetamines and Cordrazine to make a dead snail hit warp seven," he explained as he backed off. Watching as the Sergeant settled down he looked to Artak with a raised eyebrow and held out the hypo.

"I'll save it for later," he said with a nod of thanks. Pocketing the hypo carefully he looked to Yeager, "Would you stop shaking?" he asked. "Get your guys together, and hook up with Becker. Start getting everyone back here and out to the east flank. Quietly. I want everyone ready to roll in ten." he ordered.

"What about the LT?"

"I'll reason with him," ~ with a wrench if needed! ~ "but either way, we're heading for the beta positions, we can defend ourselves better there." Looking up with a little confusion he blinked for a second then cursed to himself as he realised he hadn't needed to shout for a moment, the almost incessant artillery had stopped. "Move, we may not have much time!"

Letting Yeager leave first Artak looked to Shane, "Pack what you can and get anyone still breathing ready to move. We leave no-one!"

"Yes Sir."

Running back to the command post he paused by Tiffany and looked out over the field before them, "What gives?"

"Movement," she confirmed, "scattered, but they're coming."

"Then we're leaving." he said calmly, "go help Shane, you've got ten!"

Entering the command post he found the Lieutenant right where he had left him, hunched over that cursed table with the out of date maps, days old Intel and uneaten food.

"Sir, the Hydrans are up to something." He started, hoping to reason with him, "we have possible ground troops moving in." he said as a sudden noise began again outside. More sporadic now but closer and nearly deafening, even inside.

"Spread all available personnel along the north and west perimeters, the Lieutenant shouted over the barrage," tapping the map with a stylus the Lieutenant turned to look at Artak, "we have to hold!"

"No Sir." Spitting the dust out of his mouth Artak realised it wasn't the dust that was leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth right now.

"What!"

"I said no Sir, we have to leave. The shelling has been redirected; they're trying to pin us down and the only reason I can think they've done that is they want prisoners. We can't defend this position!" he insisted, stepping forward a little to emphasize the urgency of what he was saying, "We don't have enough effective personnel! We only have about eighty people and over a third of them are wounded."

"We have been 'ORDERED' to 'Hold' Sergeant, and we will 'DO' that! Do I make myself clear!" he screamed at Artak, actually leaving his table for the first time in days he stood before the Sergeant, spittle spraying from his mouth as he yelled.

"We stay here, we'll die!" starting to get more and more angry now Artak found his own temper rising, "we've already lost enough people holding this worthless piece of ground, there's no city left. Why the fuck are we still here. Do you want to die?" Screaming

the last he moved closer to the Lieutenant, hoping he would back down and see reason. To stay was to die. And he had no desire to do either, to himself or his people.

"I am following orders Sergeant, and I expect you to do the same!"

"If you wanna die, fine. But you can't expect us to join you," looking into the Lieutenants eyes he realised he wasn't getting anywhere, there wasn't anything there to reason with anymore, only primal fear and panic. "You try and keep us here though and you'll be taking a lot of good people with you for no fucking reason!" he shot back.

"This is mutiny Sergeant, I'll see you shot for this." Still screaming the Lieutenant dropped his hand to his phaser and screamed even louder, "Corporal!"

Without even thinking Artak shifted his weight and caught the unsuspecting, and unfocussed Lieutenant on the side of his head with a punch that, by all rights should have felled a small horse. Though he didn't fall the Lieutenant staggered back, reaching for his

phaser as he did.

Moving quicker Artak had his phaser out, and without giving either the Lieutenant or himself time to think about the consequences of the action he thumbed the trigger. In less than a second, the Lieutenant, the table he was resting on and all his precious notes

were gone. Vaporized. For a moment a brief glow suffused the air where he had been and then the energetic molecules settled down and joined their more sedate companions in the room.

"We're leaving Sir." Artak said softly to the empty tent.

Taking a deep breath he shook his head. ~ Panic later! ~ he decided. Turning his phaser on the command console he destroyed anything that could be of use to the Hydrans and rushed back out to the med-post.

"Let's move people," he ordered as he approached.

"What about the Lieutenant?" Shane asked as he maneuvered an anti-grav stretcher.

"Who?"

"Talk is Cheap"

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine, USS Galaxy

****

Day 21
The Streets
Ki Karatan
Romulus

****

"Steven, we need to talk." Faylin's face was grim. Her mug of warm liquid attempted to squelch the desire she had to put a finishing touch on things. "I....am really hurt by you and that other woman."

They had effectively been an item for almost 2 weeks on the planet.

And she chose this time to want to talk about that topic. Just as the Fleet returned to fight back. "I've already told you