"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Eighteen

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

Raising his empty hands slowly John took a step back and flicked his eyes left and right to see where his people were, "Well, I'd be happy to listen to any ideas you have," he offered as he saw his people shift their positions slightly, "I mean there might not be any backup available for a while so we can try…"

"Try! Try!!! That is all you do, you try!" the still unnamed Romulan screamed at the marine, hearing the sound of weapons fire and explosions increase from over the hill he turned and scrambled up the slope.

Following, John reached the top just as the Romulan turned and aimed his rifle at him, "Human! Stay away from us. I would rather die with honor than trust your kind to watch my back! You waste my time and if you cannot support us with the army we need," what he was about to say next was lost in a bright flash of light and a roar of thunder as a substantial portion of the exposed area below exploded with a fury that sent an equally furiously hot wind howling across the open space pushing before it the loose rocks and dust in a brief storm that blinded everyone and seemed to suck the air from their lungs.

Falling flat on his back John blinked to get the dust out of his eyes as he rolled in what he hoped was the right direction to get away from the top of the hill. Opening his eyes after a moment he rubbed them for a second, but stopped as the sensation of scraping glass shards over his eyes brought him violently awake.

~ What the fuck! ~

"What did you do!" A voice screamed at him, "You used one of your bombs! What about my men!"

~ My bomb? Fast work! ~ Looking around he saw the Romulan clawing his way to the lip of the hillock and look over. Following his lead John looked over and saw the remnants of the Hydran advance in chaos, the trees for almost a kilometer in every direction had been flattened or singed by the blast and a massive fire was now burning in the forest. Below them the prepared positions the Rihan had been occupying were partly covered by the debris that had been flung their way, but it appeared most of them had been fortunate enough to survive. ~ Wha' was that!? ~

"My men! So this is your plan, kill the Hydrans and us, then you will have our world. I will 'NOT LET IT HAPPEN'!" the Rihan screamed as he launched himself at John.

~ Wha… ~ was about all he managed just as the crazed Romulan slammed into him and John was violently reminded of a very important fact about the typical Vulcanoid male. They were strong, at least three times as strong as the average Terran male. And a crazy one seemed to be a bit stronger.

"Ugh, ouch, fuck! Will. You. Get. Off!" John got out as they rolled down the hill.

Seizing what was probably going to be his only chance to get out of this brawl with his face and life intact John grabbed the Romulans pistol off his belt while his hands were busy elsewhere, namely trying to simultaneously throttle him and pound his face into a new hole in the ground. Arching his back he tried to throw the Romie off him as they rolled down hill.

Surprised and relieved as the maneuver unexpectedly worked John took a welcome deep breath and dug his heels in. Raising the disruptor pistol he aimed it at the Romulan as he slid to a stop. "Whoa, hold it!" he ordered, only to be ignored.

Picking up a rock the Romulan swung his arm back as if making to throw it. Realizing that a rock thrown by a Romulan could, and would, conceivably cave his skull in a hit, he did the only thing he could think of at that moment.

He pulled the trigger.

Watching as the now dead crazy Romulan toppled backwards and fell to the ground John took a deep breath, ~ These guys don't really have a decent stress screening system in place do they! ~ he thought sarcastically. Looking up from the corpse he saw a few of the other Romulans staring at him with traces of disbelief and anger. One of them, disregarding the weapon still trained on the body ran over and checked for life signs, "Admiral?"

~ Admiral? Whoops! ~

The planet of ch'Rihan was in chaos. The forces of the Hydrans lay siege with vast numbers, better weapons and control of the skies. They lacked one small thing however, that their enemies had. Passion. They fought for control of the world, yet the Rihannsu fought for their families, their friends, their lovers and their homeworld. They sacrificed their lives in the hope of staving off the Hydran threat, yet in the heart of the carnage, the center of the warzone people were the one commodity that was by far greater the single most important part of the war. People died, from admirals on the battle field to the elderly Rihanna who couldn't move his walking frame fast enough. People were the key and it was this notion they held in their hearts.

Of the many people involved in the great war that befell them, a minor few came together in the joys of Love, while others are split asunder as if struck by lightning. The very core of the values both the Rihannsu and Federation held dear were on the line against the Hydrans and these were the tests that one had to endure to survive; to become stronger for the challenges they faced. It was these trials that was taking place for one woman as she strove to survive the conflict that had enveloped her into its sickly web of hatred and destruction, greed and lust, thirst and hunger, life and death…

"Wait a minute!" she barked as Faylin brought up the rear of the group. Faylin steadied her weapon as the four d's stayed behind her, offering her deathly support in the most evil of ways. The single file line of Darkness, Death, Devil, and Destruction walked behind with leisure, the many facets of their capes puffed out behind them with style, and a morbid sense of grace.

"Wait a minute? She tells Marines to 'wait a minute'?" Destruction sighed. "That girl."

"She's mine." The Devil hissed.

Death waved nonchalantly in the air, rolling his eyes. "Everything is yours...... incoming." He brought his hand up in the air, constructing an invisible shield around McAlister.

Destruction smiled somewhat. "I always did love that shield Death." His emerald eyes rose to the small green glowing orb as it descended. "Ohhhh, it's a nasty bio/shrapnel one.....my favorite." The weapon exploded, right behind their favorite girl. Pieces of shrapnel appeared to bounce off her. They would have been dead, but the elements just dispirited and reappeared.

"That kinda stung." Destruction rubbed his cloaked butt.

"Whiner." Death looked over.

"Would you guys stop?" The Devil turned his attention back towards Faylin as she pumped three more rounds of phaser fire into an already dead Hydran. He grimaced somewhat. His expression changed, looking somewhat confused. "Death? How's Kreighoff?"

"Vic? He's fine. I'm still pissed he got promoted and I didn't." The pout that Death offered was not lost on the devil, who just grinned.

"He's much better at his job than you are." Darkness looked over, and nodded in agreement as Faylin fought her frustrations out of her. Another Hydran hit the ground; she tore at his suit, watching with fascination as the gas from the atmosphere worked their ways around the Hydran. "She's just not right in the head."

"Did you see how she blew Jonas out of the water? That Marine really needs to get some balls when dealing with her." The Devil's chest puffed out with pride.

"Well, geesh, you gave her balls the size of watermelons....how's anyone supposed to compete with that? You transformed her into a total witch." Destruction waved his hand and smiled as the ground before them erupted. "Besides, her sites are now set on another poor sap."

"Can you watch what your doing?" Death wined yet again. "That's the second time I've stepped on Hydran guts....it's gross." He lifted his foot, scowling at the mass of gunk on the bottom. "I just bought these things....."

The three others rolled their eyes. "And your death? Please player." The devil waved a hand at his mistress. She turned, narrowing her eyes at them. Staying silent, she turned back, focusing her attention on the path that destruction laid out for her to follow.

Destruction ripped up the ground again in front and behind him with a bored look on his hollow face. Death turned, and watched as a Marine tripped over a dirt pile. "Hey Destruction....care to tone it down a bit? You just caused a Marine to trip and phaser himself. I can't keep cleaning up your mess you leave behind. How about having some compassion for these people?" With a wave of his arm, he grabbed the Marine's soul by the throat, examining it with careful eyes. Pitching it upwards, he turned to look at Destruction with a single arched eyebrow.

Destruction's mouth hung open in disbelief. The Devil reached over, placing his index finger up under his partner's jaw and forced it shut. A flash of lighting from Destruction's eyes hit Death in the middle of the forehead. "Do I look like a fucking people person to you moron?"

"Aren't we a ray of damn sunshine?" Faylin sang out, keeping her eyes forward.

"Well, this shall lighten things up a little bit around here." The boney finger pointed to a red head that had seen more than her fare share of action. "I put ten souls on Faylin once she finds out who Kala is."

Destruction nodded. "Eh, I'm going for the red head. They are always more feistier."

"Usually. But then again, she's not dealing with a possessed she devil. No thanks to me." The Devil brushed at his crimson paisley vest as dust flew upwards.

Steven scanned the area, watching out for any Hydrans as he waited for the rest of the men to catch up. He had hardly seen any live Hydrans in the past few hours and with the number that was supposed to be on planet, it surprised him greatly. A slight buzzing sound reached his ears and he headed over to a pile of rubble to investigate

"Take a gander over there....." The devil turned his head in the direction of Jonas. "That's the guy...."

"The 'guy'?" Death questioned.

"Yes, Death. That's Jonas." Destruction just shook his head. "Are you a few bones short of a full skeleton today or something?"

The utter look of disdain that crossed Death's face made Darkness laugh out loud. He looked surprised, he clamped his gloved hand over his mouth and giggled with sheer delight.

Faylin looked back and spat. "Would you guys keep it down back there? Some of us are trying to fight a war...." She hoisted her phaser and shot.

"Cun...." Death stated with a hiss.

The Devil leaned over, smacking him on the cheek with his glove with an ancient English flair. "Have some respect."

With a flick of his wrist, he turned his attention back to Jonas. "Snap...the poor boy is about to realize something."

"Ohhhh....." Darkness's eyebrows shot up as all four elements stopped dead in their tracks...so to speak. "Snap? Death.....give me a break."

"Wait for it.........." The devil brought his hand up yet again.

As Steven got closer, he found the buzzing to be people talking, in Federation Standard no less. He climbed up the remains of the building to get a view of who it was. Boy was he in for a shock.

"Wait......................" Darkness's cape flew out behind him with a burst of dead wind.

Steven reached the top of the rubble and stopped suddenly, his jaw dropping like never before. Down the rubble and across a small courtyard stood the two women he hoped would never meet. The woman he loved and the Galaxy Engineer's sister. His heart sank at the thought of what Faylin, after she had a go at him earlier in the evening, would do

to the woman.

"Five bucks and my right testicle says he's going to shit himself." Death muttered.

The devil just smiled. "Here we go boys. Three, two, and....... one."

"Oh shit." he said quietly as he lowered his gaze in embarrassment. "Shit... shit... shit..." His legs became jelly and his heart pounded faster and faster as he found himself needing to sit down.

The four broke out in boisterous laughter, dark and sinister as they watched Steven's jaw.

"Gods...that was orgasmic." Death stated.

The other three stopped short and just stared at Death.

"Whhaaatttt?" He sighed, furrowing his brow and turned back to the work at hand. "It was."

"Sick." The Devil turned back to the scene with the lone Marine as the others circled around Faylin.

"Faith vs Truth, Part 1"

Tklenat J'oolak'k, brevet Commander, IHV Shield of Resolution

Main Bridge, IHV Shield of Resolution
=============================

Her reactor silenced, her weapons powerless and her shields down, the Shield of Resolution drifted helplessly over ch'Ricah, which once more looked like a blue-white pearl. The Hydran ship was silent except for the fear-spawned murmurs of her crew, and the shrill screams of her new Commander.

"WHAT'S HAPPENED? WHY ISN'T THE REACTOR WORKING?" Eyes wide, Tklenat J'oolak'k yelled at the bridge crew in the absolute darkness. The warship's circuitry didn't have a single ampere of power, and her temperature was falling quickly.

"Commander - the Federation's must have some form of Electromagnetic Pulse weapon our shielding couldn't handle. We're dead in space!

We're de..."

"DON'T YOU *DARE* SAY IT, SUB-LIEUTENANT! WE LIVE! AS DOES THE STARGOD THAT WILL DELIVER US!"

J'oolak'k struggled to control her breathing and regain her composure If needed, her faith and hers alone would save the Shield of Resolution from the weakness that Verati'ss had allowed to infect her... to corrupt her. Minutes stretched to small eternities in the silence, and the Commander could hear the whispers of prayers... and curses.

Both became screams when the Shield of Resolution was struck by Federation phaser fire.

Inertial dampeners offline, each member of the crew was thrust hard to the nearest surface to port as the Hydran carrier reeled from the Galaxy's sustained firepower. The Shield of Resolution began to list sickeningly towards the Rihansu homeworld when a series of smaller explosions erupted from within her fighter hold. As planned, the Galaxy's phasers pierced the carrier's hold and destroyed the bulk of her precious fighter wings.

Peeling herself from the bridge's deck, J'oolak'k felt her own fighter die as a cold chill raced up her spines. ~This can't be happening! We were delivered! It was written! WRITTEN!" Her three eyes, accustomed to the absolute darkness, recoiled when the lights flickered back on. The sound of emergency klaxons pierced the silence and the stabilizers once again allowed the Hydran crew to move freely.

"DAMAGE REPORT!"

"Commander - the fighter bay has experienced multiple direct hits.

Much of our ordnance was taken out by phaser fire. Launchers... are inoperable. Shield generators to aft are inoperable. Warp nacell two is dam..."

"WEAPONS? WHAT ABOUT THE WEAPONS?"

"Hellbore cannons... are still operational."

~Then we are not lost. This is... a test. The Stargod tests us!~ "TARGETS?"

"The heavy cruiser that struck us is heading bearing two-seven-zero mark fifteen - we can fire on her aft, but her shields are intact - the Hellbore cascade won't do much damage. There is another group at forty-three mark eighty-eight - a massive Federation dreadnought flanked by escort destroyers. She's been struck by Fusion-beam fire... and the Stargod persues her!"

J'oolak'k, wide eyed and breathing hard, knew what that once again, the great Fazzu-ur has shown the way. "FIRE ON THE DREADNOUGHT! ALL HELLBORES FIRE!"

Foam and spittle flew from the Commander's beak and a riteous glaze covered her three eyes as she beheld the target of her god's fury.

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda
Jacen McAlister, Civilian Bartender, USS Miranda, npc

Deck 39, Main Engineering

The Hydrans where learning, that wasn't a good sign. Their Hellbores had stopped firing at the Romulan and Federation ships and focused on the Klingon, Reman and Lyran. TJ tried to remodulate the shields, both modified and standard, but the T'Kith'Kin technology was to, well, alien.

Everything started popping, blowing out and sparking. Down on the main floor, it was chaos. People running and barking orders. TJ did what he could, but considering that his redesign was of no major use at the moment, he got up to head down and lend a hand. If the Hydrans became desperate, or just didn't give a shit, and started up with the Hellbores again, then he'd head back.

He started down the ladder when the ship rocked...hard.

He held on tightly, not wanting a repeat of last time. Unfortunately, that hope didn't have the will power to stop consoles from exploding and fellow crew from getting injured all over again. Klaxons blared as reports came in from all over. Then someone shouted about power being rerouted to Deck 14.

His mind racing, TJ slid down the ladder and ran over to the nearest operational console. He ran a scan for life-signs in his quarters. His Starfleet training screamed at him not to do something that was so personal and emotionally motivated. He had a duty after all.

But his duty to his mate, his Zhian'shee'tara, over powered his training and taught duty to Starfleet. Sometimes cultural duties did that. Being part Bajoran was all TJ really ever knew. His homeworld, Earth, was all he knew. Not knowing his Trill father left an emptiness in him. Granted, his mother did all she could to fill him with knowledge of the Trill, but not having a true connection left him feeling isolated. Now he had that connection and Prophets be damned, he was NOT going to lose it so easily.

The scans showed nothing.

He scanned for Jacen's commbadge. Nothing, internal sensors where fuzzy at best.

TJ felt his heart being ripped out. His world shrank as he collapsed to his knees. The Dominion War only touched him at San Francisco during The Raid. He missed the Shinzon Incident by sheer weeks due to his transfer. He'd been lucky, they both had been so lucky.

Then it hit him. The one thing that separated him and Jacen. The one thing that made them unique, Zhian'shee'tara Dor'vahla.

He reached out with his mind, following instinct. He never spoke, only used thought this time, Jacen? Do you hear me?

Nothing.

Dammit Smoothnose ANSWER ME!!!

Then it came, You don't have to yell you know. I thought you had work to do?

TJ smiled and laughed, not caring who saw. Spots, what's wrong? I can feel your emotions this time. TJ just focused himself, I couldn't find you on internal sensors. They said they had to reroute power to Deck 14. He could feel Jacen's emotions, knew how much he felt relieved that TJ thought of him during the height of battle, I'm fine. My commbadge was damaged just now by that last hit, mainly cuz I fell into a bulkhead, but I'm fine. I'm on Deck 13 helping with some fires, the suppression system is down again in this section.

TJ was up and verifying the problem. The entire system shorted out in that section and the surrounding two. He refocused on Jacen, I'm beyond relieved your alright. Finish what your doing and I'll finish down here. Jacen responded without hesitation, You do that. And when this is over, I plan on finding out how much fun this is in a more...naked situation. TJ just smirked, Freak.

TJ just heard Jacen's laughter fade away as his mind became his own again.

Repair crew where already being dispatched throughout the ship and TJ headed back to his post. He networked with several stations and helped reroute power, direct the repair crews and feed any available power to the shields. But if the feed from CIC was right, the Starbeast was dead and that just made his job a little easier.

Now if he could just find some extra power sitting around, then maybe he could get the shields and cannon up to full.

"Now if we can just get the Hydrans to fire a few Hellbores," he muttered. He stopped once he realized what he just said, never thinking he'd ever say that.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Nineteen

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

Clutching his face in his hands, Steven didn't bother to stop the tears that started forming at the corner of his eyes. "Please Fay, don't do anything stupid." he whispered to the air.

"My princess does nothing stupid." Death whispered back.

Steven rose from his seat, prepared to go and talk to Faylin. Though he was nervous at the thought of walking up to the two women, he didn't think it wise to leave them alone with each other for too long. He started up the mount of rubble again and saw them both walking off towards the city center together, weapons drawn, scanning the area as they went. He climbed the last little bit and was about to go down the other side when the voice of Private VanDuren behind him made him stop.

"Hey el-tee," Amy called out. "Thought you were gonna wait for us?"

Steven wiped the last of the tears from his face and turned to greet her. Faylin and Kala would have to wait. "Just checking what was up here VanDuren." Steven smiled. "What took you so long?"

As Lieutenant Jonas descended the rubble, she relayed her news. "I found an old friend, as we made our way through one of the buildings. I think you might know her."

Steven looked from Amy to the newcomer as he reached Amy's position. He beamed a giant smile at the sight of Norma Jean. It had been too long since he had seen her. Not since he had been shot, before the Hydrans arrived. "Norma Jean!" he said throwing his arms wide.

Norma Jean looked up at the voice. She knew it, and smiled as soon as she saw Steven's beaming face. "Hey el-tee. I missed you." Despite the sling on her broken left arm, she walked over, placed the hand phaser into its holster on her belt and hugged him with her right arm. "Sir, this is Lieutenant Damon Rice." She indicated the male standing next to her. She turned to Damon, "Damon, this is my CO, Lieutenant Steven Jonas."

"Nice to meet you, Damon." Steven said extending his hand to the fair haired man.

Damon took Steven's hand in his and shook it firmly. He had heard a lot about the man before him and had wanted to meet him for some time, "Nice to meet you as well. If you don't mind my saying, I heard you were wounded and airlifted back up to the fleet."

Nitro stood watching the way ahead, his rifle at the ready as he scanned the nooks and crannies that lined the ruins of the street. Being on point had its responsibilities. The Hydrans could be anywhere, waiting to pick them off. And now that he and Amy had found Norma Jean and the other el-tee, there were more people to protect, and more to help keep an eye out for the Hydran scum.

Steven shot a glance at Norma Jean, cocking his head slightly. He saw her blush and turn her head away and couldn't help but smile. After the big argument that had happened earlier between him and Faylin, he didn't know where they stood anymore, but despite that he was glad that someone had found happiness on this rock. "I was, prior to the Hydrans arriving, but I returned some time ago."

Amy scooted over, her hair tied back in a ponytail as usual. "Sir," she started, then remembering that there were two Lieutenants now in the group, she corrected herself, "Sirs, Nitro wants to know how long we give the others before we go look for their worthless butts?" Just like Johnnie; she was impatient at just standing around when there were bucket loads of Hydrans to kill now that the fleet was back and hopefully taking care of any potential reinforcements that they might send down.

"It is illogical to assume that we are worthless just because we were detained." Vosak's deadpan voice carried across the small road to the assembled troops, as he and Kick appeared from a side alley.

Niklass just smiled. It was good to hear the banter after all the battles. It reminded him that they were a family first and foremost. A strange and fucked up family, but a family anyway.

Amy looked over and smiled. "What took you guys so long?" She poked her tongue out at her pointy eared comrade.

"Making facial expressions like that do nothing to improve your beauty, Amy!" He retorted back, giving everyone a good chuckle.

Amy turned red, but then joined in.

Even Steven, his thoughts still over the hill of rubble and down the street, joined in. Damn he had missed the guys. And girls, he corrected. Even in this hellhole of a war, they found time to make jokes.

As the laughter died down, and Damon introduced himself to Furji and Vosak, Steven looked each in the eyes and then indicated with hand gestures that they were to move out north; towards the Old market Squares that was supposed to be the rally point. Nitro and Amy took point, heading out in front of the rest, with Vosak and Steven bringing up the rear.

"Hi Norma Jean." Niklass called out quietly. "Haven't seen you since the checkpoint. How have you been?"

"Been good Kick. I helped out at the shelter, feeding the little Romulan kids," she glanced over at Damon and smiled, "and keeping the generators working. Killed many Hydrans?"

"I've seen my share bite the dust." he replied, switching his rifle to his left hand to reach for his water bottle.

Steven watched as the team made their way through the war torn streets. The area was devoid of living Hydrans and he had begun wondering if another team had been down the street before them. They walked in silence, save for the whispered talking between Norma Jean and Niklass, both seemingly eager to hear what the other had been up to. Steven on the other hand was getting a weird vibe about the place, but couldn't put his finger on it. Then it came to him. This had been the street he had been on when he had been shot those few weeks before, when Lia had saved his life. Yes that was what it was. And it scared him to think that he was back again.

Chaos erupted as a shot was heard and a beam of light came from a pile of rubble and caught one of their number in the chest; felling them. Return fire rang out from Amy and then Nitro as they tried to take out the Hydran that was camping out in the rubble off to the side. They had both missed him as they had scouted, but were not going to let him do any more damage. Seeing two scaly hands go up in surrender, they moved in to secure the Hydran.

Damon had been standing next to Norma when the shot rang out. He hadn't seen the Hydran until it had been too late. Norma Jean had however, seen him lining up the shot and dived in-front of Damon, to take the shot aimed at him.

As Norma Jean slipped to the ground, Damon knelt down and tried to stop the bleeding. It oozed from her chest as she gasped for breath, dripped from the corner of her mouth as she looked up at the man she loved. She knew her time was up and smiled weakly at Damon as she caressed his jaw with her blood soaked hand, "I love you." she whispered.

Tears flowed from Damon's eyes as he tried valiantly to save her. Though he knew there was nothing he could do. Looking into her loving eyes, he returned the words, "I love you too."

As Kick and Vosak secured the area and the two hard-assed marines secured the Hydran, Steven stood watching the events unfold, unable to move. He was shaken beyond belief. So in shock was he that his body refused to move, even though the impulses were firing off throughout his body, telling the limbs and muscles to do their jobs. There on the ground, not three feet from where Norma Jean lay, he could see a light patch in the earth, a smattering of reddish dirt. It was almost washed away now, but he knew in his gut that it was his. Blood. Spilled from his belly when the Hydran had attacked him, three weeks prior, in this very spot.

And then another player entered the area, one that no one could see but for Norma Jean as she lay on her deathbed, and surprisingly the man she loved more than anything; Damon.

"No! Stay away. You can't have her!" Damon said loudly as he saw the shrouded figure approach.

He took a step, the cape immersed his identity with everything, however, Death had a certain mannerism, a certain smell and a certain aura that could not and would not be denied. "It's time." His quiet voice and tone was chilling yet peaceful at the same time.

"I don't care! I love her and you can't have her!"

Steven looked around. He couldn't see who Damon was talking to, "Are you alright Damon?" he asked.

Damon didn't hear Steven; he was focused on the 'creature' before him trying to get at Norma Jean, "Leave her alone!"

"I'm not going anywhere. It is her time." Death hissed.

Steven looked from Damon, to the emptiness of the area where he was looking and then down to Norma Jean who was, in one of her last acts, looking over at the same empty area. Steven was puzzled, but then he had also seen Fay talking to nothing as well. Was there something there that only they could see? He was so confused!

Damon looked up at Death for a moment before speaking quietly. "You promise she will not feel any pain or misery?"

"She will not. I am but a shepherd. I take my flock to place where they belong. I will guide her, protect her soul and escort her." Death placed a hand on Damon's shoulder with a fatherly, gentle touch.

Damon nodded, before turning to Norma Jean, who was now looking at him. "I love you Norma" he leaned down and kissed her blood coated lips for the last time as she breathed her final breath and slipped into the everlasting sleep known as death.

One step forward, Death leaned forward to Norma. He pressed his hand tightly up against her heart, transcending her earthly flesh. Gently, he pulled the white glowing soul orb from her, her body slumped slightly in peace as he held the orb in his large, ominous hand.

"Will I see her again?" Damon asked, as the tears flowed.

"I do not know the time or place, but, we are all united at some point in time Damon." He took a step backwards, descending into a mist of black, the white orb floating freely, yet still protected in the mist as it rose to the dark of night.

Damon traced her face with his finger tips before turning towards her killer, the Hydran being held by VanDuren and Capolino, anger seething in his veins.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty

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

As the first bare-handed punch hit the Hydran, Amy felt the power and anger of it ripple up her arm and she lost hold of the foul creature.

Damon didn't care that Amy had released it, for he was intent on giving it the same as it had given him: grief and pain.

Repeatedly he punched the creature, one fist after the other, each hit damaging the Hydran more and more. Its wails of pain went unnoticed by the grieving marine as he continued his assault. As the Mask flew from the Hydrans face and it began trying to draw breath, Damon paid it no concern as he slammed his now cut and bruised fists into its face.

A Phaser burst went off and the Hydran slumped, lifeless, to the ground, its chest now a hollow empty cavity.

Damon turned; ready to murder the bastard who had killed his prey.

Steven took a step backwards, at the sight of the hatred in his eyes. "Damon, I had to." he explained, "What you were doing does no one any good. It is not Starfleet's way; it is not my way and it sure as hell isn't your way."

"Who the hell are you to say what is and isn't my way?" Damon snarled.

Steven looked down at Norma Jean's corpse. "Would she have wanted you to do what you were doing?"

Damon looked from Steven to Norma Jean and back again. Shaking his head he made his way over to her, knelt down next to her and took her hand in his as the tears flowed again.

Steven wiped the tears from his eyes and looked down at the grieving lieutenant as his thoughts drifted to Faylin and what he'd do if she got shot.

As Amy took watch, Niklass made his way over to Lieutenant Rice and squeezed his shoulder in support. "She was a good soldier and a great technician. We will honor her in our prayers."

Johnnie stood watching the proceedings after Steven had stopped the el-tee's attack on the Hydran. He had thought about stepping in, since even though they were the enemy, no one deserved that kind of assault, but part of him had been glad that the Hydran was suffering. He had just begun to like the Maintenance Technician. She had a lot of guts and was a wizz on the Furies gear. And now she was dead. Yet another casualty of this god forsaken war. What was it now, 18 - 19 Furies dead? He had lost track a week ago.

A noise drew his attention and he climbed a debris hill to investigate.

"Sir," he called out, "There are two women fighting!"

Steven looked up suddenly. It couldn't be... Could it? "Does one of them have red hair?"

"Fiery red hair, sir!" He replied.

Steven motioned for him to return to the group, "Kick, you have command. I have to go deal with that." Seeing his expression, he explained, "Long story. I'll tell you later some time. Take Damon and Norma Jean's body to the rendezvous. I'll catch up when I can."

Niklass nodded. "Yes sir."

Steven turned in the direction that Nitro had been. He had to stop them from fighting. He was the cause, so it fell to him to stop it before it got any worse.

Down the road and over the embankment of rubble Faylin McAlister's voice could be heard clearly over the rise in weapons fire as a group stood, rifles trained on the Hydrans that began to swarm the streets of the western corner of the Square.

"So, you're the bitch Steven fucked?" Faylin's eyes opened as she scanned Kala up and down.

Kala turned her head slowly to look upon the face of the voice just as another grenade landed nearby, exploding in a shower of debris. Crouching down she frowned wondering what the hell this woman wanted at a time like this. I mean come on, who goes round in the middle of a war zone with their own personal vendetta?

Over the unnatural embankment made up of rubble the Hydrans massed at the end of the road. She and Michael had made it to the Old Market Square in the heart of Ki Baratan, unfortunately they were being followed by the biggest dam group of Hydrans she had ever seen. Luckily there had been a platoon of Federation marines in the square, a bunch of slightly bored marines at that. She did wonder momentarily if they were ever satisfied with their kill counts.

Now that they were here, they were pinned down. The Hydrans massed around the Square and for a time Kala wondered if this was the best of places to run to. Yet as the battle rose in fierceness she was relived to realize that they did have the upper hand. With a unit at each corner of the square and sharp shooters in the windows of what remained of the buildings, they were doing pretty well for themselves.

The Hydran kept coming, and they just kept knocking em down.

Her rifle trained on a group advancing up the street she shrugged at the comment from the raved haired woman and stood back up, poking her head just over the embankment for long enough to get a mark, she fired a salvo from her phaser rifle, her face stoic as she concentrated, she wasn't about to reply to such a remark at a time like this. She sighed inwardly, if it wasn't one conflict of a sort it was another. Shaking her head she pulled the trigger and fired again.

"Cat fight." Came the quiet reply from one of the four onlookers.

Kala scowled at the retort. Glancing behind her she saw the woman still standing there, puffing out her chest, wanting answers. Hadn't this woman ever heard of priorities? Talk about inappropriate! Sighing yet again she looked to Michael, quite frankly she didn't want him to hear any of this. He was a few meters away, looking through a hole in the rubble. She had to admit that he had surprised her over the last few hours. From the sap she met that could barley hold his weapon, let alone fire it, to a marksman of precision. It was uncanny and frankly scary the capabilities that war induced in the fight to stay alive. She hadn't seen him miss a shot for the last three hours. Not all were kill shots mind, he did have to try more than once on some occasions to make the bastards take their blows, but still, even if it was one of their feet, he hadn't missed a target. Scary!

Scrambling from her position she slid down the rubble and shale to be on a more even keel with the woman before her. Hitching her rifle on her shoulder she flicked on the safety catch on and then finally let her eyes wonder over the form of the bitch in front of her. Cocking her hip to the side in a mocking stance she smiled slightly. "What do you want?"

"Thought so." Without warning, Faylin brought her elbow up right under Kala's chin then pivoted violently, bringing her left hook right across Kala's porcelain cheek.

Her rifle flew from her grasp as she staggered backwards. Her body lurched to the side from the momentum of the hit and for a moment she stayed in that bent over position holding her jaw. Her face tingled, warm and fuzzy. She had not expected that. She wasn't sure what to say or even do at this point. Standing up to her full height she took a moment to compose herself and assess the situation.

Okay she had slept with the woman's boyfriend. She didn't know Steven was attached, and to a crazy bitch at that. But then if someone had slept with her man she would be pissed too. So okay, the hit was just, in a way. She deserved it. Kala knew how to take her blows. She nodded slightly to herself, "Look," she began, "I am sorry, I didn't know he was your boyfriend, he didn't tell me." she explained as she retrieved her rifle from where it had scuttled across the floor. Thinking that they were done she glanced back up at the fuming woman and balked slightly from the expression of pure hatred that emanated from her.

"Hey I said I was sorry. How was I supposed to know? It's not like he has a sign on him or anything. And besides isn't it him you should be having words with about this. He is after all the one who withheld important information. I didn't."

"Spare me the excuses whore." McAlister spat. "Why didn't you find someone else who was screwable? Why my....man?" A right hook connected with the other woman's gut.

~Oh no!~ Kala thought as she doubled over with the fist in her stomach. Gasping as the air was forced from her lungs she eventually grabbed the woman's wrist and pushed her backwards to the floor. She wasn't going to go all out on this woman, she was obviously upset and been through a lot, and some people just couldn't handle themselves at a time of stress. Keeping an eye on her as she once more picked up her weapon, holding her bruising belly she nodded crisply, "We're done." she stated in a low voice.

Faylin flew back, a puff of dust emitted from the spot she landed upon. A slight snarl later, McAlister was up on her feet in short order. More determined then ever to teach this woman a lesson. Hell, who would care....they could just blame their wounds on battling Hydrans.

"That's it?" McAlister drew her hand up, wiping the blood away from the corner of her mouth.

The Devil stepped forward, only to be held back by Darkness. "Let her fight her own fight." His tone was ominous.

Kala frowned, "Yes that's it." she replied getting slightly agitated and twitchy, "This is not the time or place." she scolded. "Now you have had your pot shots, and I have taken my blows. Neither of us can change what happened, what's done is done. Now that's it." she took a step forward, "I accept what has happened here for what it is. It's over and done. You touch me *again* and I'll take you out. You got that?"

Faylin's index finger sailed through the air, lightly landing on Kala's arm. "Touched ya, are you going to take me out now?" The arched eyebrow and innocent expression was almost humorous considering their surroundings. Faylin stood, the Hydran fighting had lulled somewhat, at least enough to finish what she had started.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-one

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

Kala shook her head, "You have the maturity of a five year old." she countered shaking her head in disgust as she turned away. She wasn't going to let herself be goaded by this arrogant harpy. Flicking her rifle back up into her hands she began to ascend the rubble pile and return to her firing position.

"At least I don't have the body of a five year old!" Faylin spat as she kicked up some dirt with her foot. She lurched forward, pushing the woman back as hard as she could. A slight satisfied urge washed over her as the symmetry of the fall and the expression on Kala's face gelled. It was just down right pretty.

~You have to be kidding me!~ Kala moaned as she stumbled from the impact the stone made with her head. She winched as she brought her hand to her head and tenderly probed the smarting spot. That was gonna bruise like a bitch. Her lip curled as a low growl rumbled in her throat. She shook her head sinisterly as her eyes stared at the ground.

She chucked her rifle strap over her head and twisted the weapon round to rest across her spine. ~That's it!~ a voice full of anger raged with in Kala, she spun round fast her tornado movements causing the dust to rise around her.

In a flash, Faylin felt herself sailing back yet again. Sighing as she landed, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stumbled up. At this point, even in a war zone, when two women chose their battle, men are likely to sit back and enjoy the ride. However short it may be. McAlister leaned back, steeling her fists for a barrage of punches, kicks, and any other type assault that might come flying down the pike next. The JAG officer prayed that the class in defensive maneuvers would come in handy....or at least, she could remember enough to save her ass if this got any deeper.

Kala stepped back as the woman came in to assault her, blocking the blows with her arms in a well practiced manor. For a moment Kala actually stifled a yawn. She really wasn't afraid of the woman and her fighting skills, well they were all right, if one of them connected it might actually hurt, but not that much; Kala had been sparing with Klingons since she was 13 for crying out loud! After a few more blocks, Kala threw her body forward into the TAG officer, having enough of the seemingly paw like movements from her.

'Rot Ruh.' McAlister thought as the woman charged at her. Ducking to the side, she managed to avoid the she witch, but tripped over a damn mound of dirt Destruction had left there earlier. Falling with her face right in the dirt, she spit and sputtered as she rolled over. Faylin found herself face to face with the red head, as Kala was strattled on top of her. 'Lovely.' She winced as she felt the first blow to her left eye.

Kala didn't stop there, if this prissy little thing wanted a fight she would sure as hell give her one that she wouldn't forget! Might teach her a few things about picking a fight with a Klingon trained warrior!

"If you and that worthless prick are an item, why did it take him three days to mention your name huh?" Kala yelled as her iron left hook cracked Faylins jaw.

"If you meant sooooo much to him, why did he tell me about you *after* we screwed?" she shouted over the grunting of the woman.

"That's how worthless you are!" she shirked, "You're a fuckin' after thought!" she actually paused then to laugh at the stupid woman beneath her.

Bolting her back in a arching manner, she was able to bring one foot up, plant it on Kala's abdomen and push off and out from underneath her. At this point, Faylin's beauty was erased by bruises, swelling, and blood. Looking at her sparring partner, Faylin smiled.... Kala faired somewhat better, but not much at this point.

Staggering up, she charged, only to have someone grab her by the waist. Her body bent, her mind willing to charge, but what ever or whom ever was stopping her had more strength at this point. "I'm not finished with you bitch!" The raven haired woman bellowed. "I'll make it so you never sleep with taken men again!"

Kala staggered to her feet and wiped the blood from her cut lip, "Yeah," she replied her eyes narrowing on the woman, "you just fuckin try it and I'll fuck you up so much that you will be eating through a straw for the rest of your life." she approached the contained woman, venom in her stare, hatred laced in every footstep, "Believe me no amount of reconstruction surgery will be able to amend the damage that I will do to you." She paused a meter from her and tilted her head to one side, "Ya know I would recommend you a better surgeon than you obviously already have," she mockingly winced slightly at Faylin, "But ya see hon, I am naturally beautiful, in every situation," she emphatically gestured to their surroundings, "so you see sweetie pie, I don't have one. But good luck with that."

He had just been with a young marine as she laid on her death bed, yet another casualty of the damned war, and then the commotion nearby started which drew Steven's attention. And now he stood, holding Faylin by the waist, trying to keep her from trying to kill Kala. "Easy Fay, you need to calm down."

"Bite me!" She spat. "Let go of me....I want her!" She lurched again, attempting to break out of the strong vice like grip Steven held on her.

"What will getting her do for you? Will you get satisfaction? Or feel relief?" He said as calmly as he could as she strained to get free.

"Yes...." She spat yet again and lurched.

As no one reached out to contain Kala, seemingly forgetting her Klingon upbringing and the fact that she should kill Faylin for the challenge she had inadvertently begun with her first hit, she swiftly advanced and went to slug the cow.

Steven turned Fay away from the oncoming blow and took it on his shoulder. "Would the pair of you stop this now! You're acting like school girls fighting over the Team's Quarterback."

"Oh please Steven! She's the freaking tackle who sacked the quarterback! Let me go!" She wiggled against him some more, purely infuriated at this point. Glancing down, she noticed his foot, desiring to stomp on it, but chose not to.

"That may be, but at the moment, it is the other team we need to be targeting. And not our own players."

"So what?" She spat.

"I just saw one of my young marines die not ten minutes ago and you two were here bickering while she bled to death on the ground." He hoped that this was going to settle them down. It was the truth after all; one of his young charges had just died. And it had been heart wrenching to watch.

"Life sucks Steven. What do you want me to do about that?" Faylin settled, the grossness of her tone was shocking to everyone around her, except for four dark figures who just smiled at the nasty reply.

"I want you, to stop fighting and grow up. A young woman died, as her lover knelt helpless, unable to do anything for her and you fight each other. Your friends and comrades are fighting and dying out there and you two want to fight! Over me! It's ridiculous." He released her. "You know what... go ahead, kill each other. I'm sick of the

pettiness you are both displaying, and if you want to have any self respect left at the end of the war, you'd pick up your weapons and start killing the fucken Hydrans like everyone else." With that he turned and walked off to where Furji was leading the unit. And Faylin and Kala could both go to hell if they couldn't see past their giant egos.

"Yeah, it is ridiculous that I actually cared enough about you too Steven, isn't it?" Turning on her heel, she left the scene, the pain all over her body was nothing in relation to the pain she felt in her soul....or....what was once her soul.

Kala was left just standing alone, she looked into the wake of Steven and then to the direction Fay had stalked off in. "Firstly I would like to point out that I was defending myself…." she shouted into the air, "secondly … Oh who gives a fuck anyways!" Picking up her rifle she rejoined the troops, no one seemed to give a toss what she thought.

As the minutes ticked by till midnight, Ki Baratan sure as hell was not quiet. As Kala, Faylin and Steven returned to their respective positions, overlooking the roads that lead to the Square, several skirmishes broke out, though nothing major.

It was something else that stood out this night. The atmosphere grew tense with anticipation as they sat watching the roads, bathed in the lights from the assaults above; it was like you could almost touch it. There were people coming out from behind the protection of ruins, from underground, from the strangest of places. And not only soldiers, but civilians too.

They all had something in common; they were fighting to free Romulus of its conquerors. With the knowledge that the Fleet had returned and were fighting hard in the skies above, they all knew one thing: this would be the night on which they would launch the final assault against the Hydrans. In their attempt to drive them away, they gathered everything they could find, every piece of weaponry; from all the heights of technologies down to the rudimentary that the commoner had at his disposal, even if it was only a rake! Every capable man and woman arose to join the last stand.

This was it...right here, right now. If anything, this day would go down in history as the day where the Federation and it allies said, "No further!"

"Someone's getting their ass kicked up there."

Looking up at the sky in the general direction Tiffany was looking Artak grunted an agreement absently, "'bout time they showed up." was the only comment he made before returning his attention to the street before them. "I don't like it," the Sergeant said more to himself, indicating a couple of buildings down the street, he looked to the troops behind him and nodded, "before we move, level them if you would. They have far too good a vantage point for my liking."

"On it Sarge." the young Private said as he unlimbered the photon launcher and loaded a missile. Waiting for everyone to back off he took careful aim over the rubble he was laying on and fired.

With a loud whoosh the charge was propelled to a significant velocity and buried itself into the side of the building next door to the one Artak had been worried about. ~ They did warn me! ~ he thought as an explosion tore the building apart, as well as several either side, ~ his aim 'is' shite, but with that thing, it doesn't really matter! ~

Streaks of plasma fire erupted from several nearby buildings; trained on the area Artak and the heavy weapon specialist were crouching. Grabbing the back of the privates armor Artak dragged him down behind cover, "Fire, then 'Drop'!" he reminded the scared

Bolian.

"Got it Sarge."

~ Kids! ~ Aware they had stirred up a hornets nest of Hydrans he tapped his commbadge, "Artak to all units, covering fire, take the bastards out!" he ordered, looking at the private he nudged him, "Load up soldier, plenty more buildings where those ones came from." Watching as fire erupted from various locations; Federation, Romulan and just about any sort of weapon they had been able to find were in use by the people with him. These people were pissed, and they were about to start kicking back.

~ I would not want to be a Hydran today! ~ he decided.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-two

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

Waiting and watching a moment he let the troops shower the buildings before them with fire. They weren't specifically trying to hit anything, though killing a Hydran was always nice, their job was to draw the fire. Making them reveal their position just made them all the easier to kill.

Tapping the heavy weapon specialist on the back Artak pointed, "Right hand side, half way down. Anything beyond that is fair game," he ordered, "give me ten then start a little demolition going down there. Clear."

"Clear Sarge," laying out a handful of charges he got ready to lay down a barrage at the other end of the street.

Sliding back down the mound of rubble Artak joined the rabble there. Mostly Romulans, and civilian Romulans at that they were all gathered around a flat piece of rubble that was serving at their table. "Okay, covering fire has started," he said unnecessarily, "and the Hydrans are in retreat, pulling back, so let's keep them on the move." pointing at one Romulan whose name he hadn't remembered, "Take your people and get behind these buildings," indicating one street on the map, "be careful, there may well be Hydrans out and about, so use sewers or cellars, anything you can, blow holes in the walls if you need, but stay out of sight! Move in and fire at their rear, drive them into the square ahead." Looking to another Romulan he indicated a different street, "Same plan but this street, let's bottle the bastards up in this area here up ahead, then we can surround them and fry their asses. Move out."

"And us?" the only Romulan Senior Centurion present asked as the civilians left rapidly, "While these civilians do the dangerous house to house fighting what will we be doing?"

"They should be pretty safe." Artak reassured him, "Most of the Hydrans in our area seems to be on this street." pointing at the street that was currently the scene of a major fight before them, "Those guys will distract them a little, get them to spread out their forces and wonder where the hell we are."

"And just where the hell are we?" the Centurion asked, repeating the vernacular but obviously not understanding the reference.

~ Up shit creek with no frelling paddle! ~ Artak thought sourly, "We, are going to level this street," he said calmly, "no finesse, no fancy house to house and no hand to hand. We'll take out any building they're hiding in and let the graves registration unit figure out who they were later."

"Simple, direct and effective." the Centurion said with a smile, "a pity really, this is one of the oldest parts of the city."

"Would you rather go house to house to clear them out?" Artak asked.

"I'd rather find another launcher and help tear it down," he answered with a grin, "buildings can be rebuilt."

~ A man after my own heart! ~ "Once we start they should go running into the square up ahead, by then the civilians should be in a position to take some of them out, then we move in."

"Let's blow some buildings up then."

As men and women died, as buildings fell like a tower of playing cards, the officers of Starfleet and the people of ch'Rihan rose to repel the invading Hydran forces. Old men, young boys, women of all ages, they all turned out, armed by the resistance from the supplies hidden in the secret weapon caches. On they marched, across the city herding the Hydrans away from their city towards the oblivion that awaited them up in their fleet.

Rihannsu warriors stood side by side with Federation diplomats, young boys, not old enough to know the joys of dating or the rigors of military life stood next to their parents. It was spectacular display of unity, they marched ever on, shooting any Hydran they found. Hundreds died, but where one fell, two more rose to fill the gap. So eager were they to defeat the Hydrans and reclaim their planet that they were all, to a man (and woman) willing to die for their freedom. House rivalries were swept under the carpets, inter species differences were cast aside and they fought for their freedom, like many before them on all manner of battlefields throughout the galaxy.

A group of Rihannsu men, mostly experienced warriors with the odd young boy, led by a Starfleet marine moved through one small street, clearing the houses one by one. As they neared a cross roads, they spotted a dozen Hydrans entrenched behind some makeshift barricades on the other side of the street. Taking up cover, they fired upon the three-eyed beasts. Steven watched from his position as one and then a second Rihannsu warrior fell before their return fire. One Hydran, however was not firing, and in between shots, Steven noticed he was talking into a device similar to the Starfleet communicator. A moment later they were gone. Every one of the Hydrans had vanished.

"Keep vigilant. It may be a trick." Steven called out as the men fanned out watching in all directions.

Several streets over, a young woman contemplated what the war had cost…

The blood from her wounds had long since dried, its crust, a reminder to the story of that part of her life that had been created on this planet. As she caught first glimpse of the ultimate destruction she helped create, she glanced upwards at Destruction. His face, almost as grim as hers as he looked down from above her. His eyes sent her the realization that she was not the only one that had gotten hurt emotionally or physically. In some odd sense, Faylin thought that she saw a slim ere sadness in his violet eyes. Just a flash, just for a mere second in time......the woman thought......as she turned back slowly to the blood soaked war zone that had been home for so long.

Closing her eyes, a single, solitary tear caressed her cheek as her mind flooded with the memories that caused her to sell her soul for her survival. It all made sense now. Just how could she have survived a building falling on her? A gloved hand, wiped the tear away, causing McAlister to gasp. She just sold her soul. Her one and only prized possession that no one could take away, she sold it to live.

She felt raw emotion boil within her. He stood silently beside her as she shoved him away, repeatedly. He did not budge. His expression silently stoic, with a single turn downwards of his head, his eyes steeled against Faylin.

He said nothing, just shook his head back and forth in a negative way.

Yet, despite the destruction, two tiny hopes of life clung to her that she was not aware of yet. The Devil knew more than she did and more than Steven did. The tiny cells that fed off of the body he protected would be making their presence known soon…

"Do you know the Muffin Man?"

Ensign Zev Raynor - Terran Telepath
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

Location: UNKNOWN (Hydran Lab)

-----

<"Talk or I'll take your nose and I won't give it back.">

<"NO. Not my nose, anything but my nose.">

<"Then tell me what I want to to KNOW.">

<"Alright, alright I'll tell you... Do you know the Muffin man?">

<"The Muffin man?">

<"THE MUFFIN MAN!">

<"Yes, I know the muffin man... who lives on dreary lane?">

<"Well… she's married to the muffin man.">

<"The Muffin man?">

<"THE MUFFIN MAN!">

<"She's married to the muffin man..."> the Hydran pondered this for a moment before exiting the door.

"Stop recording," ordered the Hydran scientist, before turning to his commander. "And that's how the last 15 attempts at extracting information out of this prisoner has gone. Our mind probes have either completely failed or worse overloaded. He is unlike any other specimen we have captured to date."

"Interesting, go on."

"He was captured leading a small resistance cell of only a dozen or so Romulans. The cell managed to take out near seven hundred of our troops, 3 dozen ground vechiles, an entire squadron of fighters and a dozen other grounded transports and two temporary command centers. We were only able to bring them down by sending a huge to catch them, and-"

"And even then, we suffered losses disproportionate to what we faced. I read report, but that's not what you've called me here to discuss."

"No, I suppose not, but I think it is important to cover everything we can before we go into the truly interesting information. By running his facial features and genetic material, through our database we've been able to determine that his identity is Ensign Zev Raynor, a Starfleet Intelligence Officer who was serving aboard the USS Galaxy. But nothing in his file suggests that Zev Raynor could lead such a unit. He is a malcontent misbehaving clown who rarely can be bothered to show for even the most important assignments on time, if at all. He was even scrapped most recently at the last minute for a mission that would have taken him directly into our territory. Our clone agent aboard has confirmed all of this information during her observation of that crew. Also we can't seem to replicate him."

"You told me that his first clone was completed a few hours ago."

"Yes but there are... difficulties when it comes to passing him off as the original. His genetic material alone cannot replicate his body, he been through some sort of special training or unusual growth development which we can't simulate in a lab. He would not pass through a medical exam without serious questions being raised. Furthermore the clone seems to possess an extra organ, which the original does not. Upon closer inspection we saw a space where this organ would been in the original, but as to how it was removed... that is beyond us. Aside from the space, there is no remaining evidence that something had been there, no hint of surgery or any known procedure to remove it."

"What are your recommendations?"

"At the very least we should properly evaluate his abilities to see what Starfleet agents are capable of... and possibly find out who this Muffin man is. It may be significant..."

---

When Madden finally spoke it was a burst of laughter in which he was almost crying.

And then went he finally stifled it enough, Raynor found out what Madden had managed to discover ~...Their going to waste time trying to find out who the Muffin man is...~

Raynor closed his eyes tightly, 'Oh god. Why? Never mind I don't to know...

anything else?'

~Yea... something about evaluating your abilities... no idea beyond that.~

'I think I can handle whatever half baked tests they throw at me...'

~Zevy boy... you don't know what their going to throw at you... plus you've already been beaten to shit... what makes you think you're in any condition to handle- ~

'I've been thrown into a room of women a couple of guys all of whom were in the middle of PMS. Whatever happens next, it will never top that.'

~...~

'...'

After a minute long pause Madden spoke, ~Alright you got me there... still it will amusing to watch you fail these upcoming trials... in mean time... I will be making use of this left over Dithparu body and try to find us an exit...~

Branwen woke up again, shivering. It was so damned cold in the cellar.

Mummy or daddy had not come to release her yet. She felt like she had been punished for ages this time, and she started to cry.

It hurt, and there was nobody around.

"Mummy!" She called out weakly. "Mummy, I'm sorry, I will be good."

In the darkness, gentle hands fell upon Branwen. The kind voice belonging to the hands reassured the young woman. "You're burning with fever, child. Rest....I will help you."

"No, it feels so good, but you will end up hurting me like the other green woman." Branwen was still half delirious. "I trusted her, she was nice. Like my mother sometimes. But she would betray me as well."

She shivered.

"No more words for now...." Anasta allowed her physical empathy to interact with the Marine's body. It was obvious she had infection raging inside from the wound on her arm. She could help fight the invading germs, but Anasta was still too weak to risk directly healing the human....

"Will you be my mother?" Bran looked at her with fever filled eyes.

She tried to crawl closer to the Emerald woman.

****

Outside

Man'darr was outside of the compound, taking in some much appreciated fresh air. The air inside had smelled of death and disease when the explosion was heard, sending debris flying into the air. Man'darr crouched and looked around, when he spotted the attackers nearly three hundred yards away. Man'darr squinted his eyes to get a better look at the attackers. Mortars, Man'darr thought, observing eight Hydrans operating a mortar launcher. A sensation of battle and adrenaline now filled Man'darr's body as he leapt to his feet and charged across the wasteland of what was left of the city with speed that only Capellan legs could provide.

****

Inside

Victor didn't like coming to the field hospital. It wasn't the smell of injury and death, or the cries of the wounded that was the problem, though. For him, it was the knowledge the so many of the patients would be affected by his presence, by what he did to those around him, and be unable to move away. These people had known enough fear and despair for a lifetime already - he didn't like making it worse for them. Today, now, though, he had to. Something was wrong. He'd forbidden someone something and they were foolishly trying to do it anyway. He couldn't allow that.

Leaving a trail of traumatized patients and fearful gazes behind him, Victor moved through the hospital, knowing where he was supposed to be going without really knowing, knowing that the one defying him was...

here. "London," he whispered, the words carrying around the room without seeming to originate directly from him as he took in the fragile form cradled in another woman's arms. "You never listen, do you?"

Anasta's eye s went to the large man in the doorway. He was huge! "She has hidden her injuries, and now her blood is tainted with infection."

Branwen smiled. She hardly recognized him; she just saw a comforting presence hovering over her.

Victor frowned and dropped to one knee to examine the infected shoulder injury and the newer injuries from the explosion. "Are you a doctor?" he asked Anasta while he examined the shoulder injury a second time. It didn't look better on a second glance. "Can she hear me? Will she know who I am?"

The Welsh girl giggled semi lucid for a moment. "Silly Victor." She looked at the Emerald woman. "He thinks he scares people, he's my big teddy bear brother. I adopt all my family; my own family is no good. I want you for a mummy, Victor for brother and Man'darr as husband."

Who, Victor wondered, or what, was a 'Man'darr' and why would London want to marry it? "Is she on pain medication?" he asked. "Or is she delirious?" Of course, with London sometimes she was like this when neither was the case. He started to run through his mental list of the drugs in his kit, none of which seemed to be appropriate. Everything he had was designed to get someone on their feet and keep them fighting, not fight an infection like this. He had a few pain meds that might be safe, but he wasn't certain that she ought to be taking them in her condition. Still, she seemed to know who he was....

Victor leaned forward, catching Bran's chin in his hand and holding it so she was looking into his eyes. Ignoring Anasta's protesting squawk, he asked, "You know who I am, don't you, London?"

Her eyes glazed over again and she was lost to reality. But instead of going back to her youth and the abuse of her parents, this time she was walking in the corridors of the galaxy and Victor was next to her.

She looked at him and smiled. "I am glad you are here."

"Do you listen to anything that I say?" the figure beside her asked, a familiar frown on its face and a chill cast to its words. "Why are you doing this?"

"Of course I do, you know I value you." Her dream figure said laughing. "Doing what?"

The man next to her deepened his frown. "Dying, London." The air around them seemed to grow colder and Bran felt a pressure in the air.

"You're trying to die, when I told you that you couldn't. Why are you doing that?"

"I'm not! Why would I want to die now, after all I survived? Now that I finally have everything to live for. Don't be silly, Victor."

Anasta looked at this man with distain and sought to intervene. "This does not help her. If the fever persists, she will weaken further. Is this what you want for her?"

"I'm never silly; you know that, London," he replied. The air grew colder and the feeling of pressure increased, until it was a physical sensation pressing against Bran, making her feel like she was walking in slow motion as she pushed her way through it. As they turned a corner, she looked away to make certain she wouldn't collide with anyone coming the opposite way, and when she looked back, something else was looking at her out of Victor's eyes. Something she knew on sight after losing so many patients to it during the eternity she'd been underground at the hospital. "Yes," Death whispered, his voice laced with the wails of damned souls howling in faint counterpoint to Death's words. "You are. You're trying to die right now."

Branwen pushed against the bulkhead and swallowed. Her physical body back on the planet moaned. "Please, you are scaring me."

****

Man'darr grabbed the Hydran Rifle as the Hydran soldier fired it, narrowly missing the large Capellan. He twisted it upwards and backwards, breaking the Hydrans grasp of the rifle and fire it, catching the surprised soldier point plank in the chest, sending him reeling backwards. Man'darr fended off the next soldier with a butt stroke of the rifle to the side of the Hydran's head. The Hydran was sent sprawling to the ground as Man'darr turned and fired the rifle again at another charging Hydran. Firing three more shots, three more Hydrans dropped to the ground. One Hydran caught him by surprise, grabbing Man'darr with its arms. "Big mistake," Man'darr replied, throwing his head back. The force of the impact caused the Hydran to stumble backwards a few steps. Man'darr then ripped the Methane Mask off of the Hydran who immediately collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.

"So, you are a Capellan," the last Hydran judged.

"How astute of you, Hydran. "

"I've always wanted to face a Capellan in battle. I am Denthar, second-in-command of Hydran Special Forces on this wretched planet."

"Then you will get your wish," Man'darr replied, dropping the Hydran Rifle to the ground. "And I don't care who you are...you're just another dead Hydran to me!" Man'darr charged the Hydran who swung a massive fist at the charging Capellan, which swung over his head as Man'darr leaned forward with the Hydran's second fist slamming into Man'darr's injured side. With a roar from the pain of the assault and anger, Man'darr collided with the Hydran, lifting him off the ground, grabbing the Hydran and slamming him back to the ground. Adrenaline dulled out the pain at his side as the large Hydran Commander used his feet to push Man'darr off. As the Hydran got to his feet, a sharp pain shot through his head, along with a loud crack as the Hydran's right cranial plate was shattered and blackness overcame him as Man'darr's fist connected with the Hydran's temple in a full punch which sent the lifeless body of the Denthar back to the ground. With the battle over, Man'darr soon felt his side pulsing with intense pain from the struggle along with minor blood stains on the bandage where the wound was.

Man'darr dropped to his knees, taking in deep breaths as t he fight had taken a lot out of him in his weakened condition. After a few moments, Man'darr got back to his feet, grabbing the Mortar Hydran Ammo and rifles back to the Field Hospital, as they were in need of such weapons for defense should there be another attack. He hoped Branwen was not injured in the attack as he entered the field Hospital.

****

Inside

"Good," Death replied. "Be afraid. Be very afraid if that's what it takes to get you to listen to me." The pressure increased further, almost pinning Bran to the bulkhead with it's force, throbbing in a steady beat that part of her understood was a heartbeat, although hers or someone else's she couldn't say. "Do you remember what I told you?

Do you remember?"

"Uhm.. yes," She squeaked.

"What was it, London? What did I tell you?"

"I don't have permission to die." She whispered almost like a child.

"That's right. You don't have permission." Death leaned closer, his hand catching her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes, holding her there despite her attempt to turn away. "Do you understand that? Tell me you understand it, London."

"Yes, yes, I understand."

In the real world her eyes snapped open and she gasped. It took a few seconds before she was able to catch her breath. "Help me, I don't....

I don't want to die." She cried.

Victor held her chin for a moment longer, until her eyes focused on him. "You won't die, London," he told her, his voice merely his own now. "I won't give you permission to." He released Bran's chin and straightened up, glancing at Anasta. "She won't die," he repeated.

Anasta nodded, her eyes wary and wide. Her people may not be gifted with psionics, but they were quite familiar with the presence of darkness. This was more than a man. She made a ward against the presence of evil and put a protective arm around the Terran woman.

Victor noted the gesture but ignored it, turning back to Bran. "Listen to me London: I have some pain meds if one of them will help you think more clearly. Are you allergic to anything?"

"I don't think so." She clutched at his hand with her good arm while she still lay in Anasta's arms. "I'm scared Victor."

"Of course you are," Victor nodded as he sorted out one of his auto injectors, checked the date, and pressed it against Bran's good arm.

"I'm here. You're just not like you normally are when you don't see it," he finished over the hiss of the disposable hypo as it sent the painkiller into her system.

"H uh?" Branwen said. It was a very powerful drug, and it didn't take long for her mind to start to clear. "What... bloody hell, it hurts."

She mumbled.

"Pain does that," Victor observed, withdrawing enough that Anasta could pull Bran away from him. "That's how you know you're alive. It doesn't hurt anymore when you're dead."

Man'darr quickly placed the new-found weapons and ammo in a corner when he spotted Branwen on the ground. "Is she alright?" his voice seemed to boom through the devastated hospital.

"Dar!" She tried to sit up and put up a brave face. "Sure. Victor, this is my boyfriend." She said very proud. "He likes me."

"Being your boyfriend, one would hope so," Victor observed. He glanced at the Capellan. "She's lying - or letting the painkiller I just gave her do the talking. She isn't fine. She's let an injury become infected and it's spread to her bloodstream, in addition to the other injuries she just received in an explosion. The may be more beyond that, but I haven't checked her for them yet."

The painkillers were making her feel much better. She still tried to struggle to her feet, but there was no strength there. "I should be getting back to work. Lots of people are worse off than I am." Branwen mumbled.

Anasta shook her finger at Branwen in a scolding manner befitting a mother. "You are done for work now. Continue to push, and nothing will help you." Still, she watched the one named Victor, wary of his very presence.

"Yes Mum." Branwen tried to smile. "But it doesn't hurt so bad anymore. Maybe I could just take some antibiotics if I can find some."

"I am not carrying any" Victor said, frowning. "He looked over at Man'darr. "What about you?"

"I'm a fighter, not a doctor. I will go get one," Man'darr said standing, ignoring the pain at his side from his treated injury.

"Perhaps I can find Doctor Mathieson." Man'darr walked out of the room at a quick pace, looking for a nearby doctor. One way or another, he was going to find one.

===

The small Romulan woman was pale, and nervously glanced back at the hulking Capellan as she was ushered into the chamber. Seeing the prone Branwen lying on the cot, the physician made to approach the young woman and froze. Wide-eyed, gooseflesh worked to make her pale skin almost white as she looked... no... felt the tall figure in the semi-darkness. The wounded marine evoked sympathy. The large Ops lieutenant demanded respect. The other - something altogether darker.

Breathing quickly, the Romulan fought to regain her voice and courage.

"I'm Doctor t'Ailleane. The Lieutenant said someone was injured and required...treatment". Despite her efforts, she trembled and subconsciously backed into the looming Man'darr but her eyes never left the shadowy figure. In a shaky voice, she found the fortitude to ask.

"May I...?"

Branwen recognised the doctor. They had worked together briefly over the last couple of days.. "Of course. And don't mind Victor, he doesn't bite. I am not feeling too well. So I need some help if you have time."

t'Ailleane nodded and cautiously approached the wounded woman, but didn't take her eyes off the grim, dark human. Only when she reached Branwen did she fearfully look away and fumble in her kit for a medical scanner. As the small device hummed to life, the Romulan focused intensely on the Marine's wounds. "How did this happen, Lieutenant... and where?", she asked in a small voice choked with fear.

Branwen took her hand in her one good one. "It's okay, he will not hurt you. He's not really scary, it's all in your head."

The pale look on the Romulan doctor's face spoke of her thorough disbelief of those words. "I'll have to... take your word for that human, now... your injuries...?"

"My arm happened a few days ago when Man'darr was wounded something grazed my arm. The rest happened today, I was hurt in one of the explosions. I don't exactly know what's wrong. It doesn't feel so bad now."

For a minute the chamber was silent except for the sounds of breathing and the quiet droning of the medical scanner. When the scanner was deactivated, t'Ailleane bent down to Branwen and spoke to her softly.

"Lieutenant, your injuries are serious. You have a serious concussion that can be dealt with, three broken fingers that can be set, two broken ribs that can be made immobile." Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she disclosed the worst injury. "There is a large lymphoid organ under you right lung... I believe the human term is a 'spleen'. Because this organ has a number of ruptures, your autoimmune system has been compromised - you have an infection coursing through your blood."

The doctor reached into her kit and pulled an oblong, gleaming machine that she placed carefully just below Bran's chest. "I have the equipment to mend the tears in the lymphoid organ... that will stop the internal bleeding, but right now, there's nothing I can do about the infection. Your blood chemistry is... so... alien. Iron based.

Our anti-bacterials are copper-based for Rihannsu or Vulcan bloodtypes. There... may be a solution if your... ah... friends can help."

Man'darr stepped forward. "What do you need, doctor?"

"The hospitals and major clinics are being held by the Hydrans.

The... veterinary and zoological practices are not. Many of the native fauna on ch'Rihan are iron-based, and antibiotics for iron based bloodtypes should be found there."

"So you want me to go and find iron-based plants?"

The small woman shook her head impatiently. "No - medicine! Derived from a particular fungus." She took a few deep breaths to regain control over her fear and temper "It will be in hypospray form.

Humans know it as penicillin and its various sub-forms, I believe.

They're small - just take everything resembling the drugs I've described."

"Right, I'll be back soon," Man'darr stated moving over to the recent confinscated Hydran Weapons pile and picked up a Hydran rifle and heading out of the room and the hospital in a fast-paced jog. He immediately headed in the direction of a small veterinarian clinic he had see several time during patrols of the area.

Branwen was already beginning to feel weaker again. She lay against Anasta. The young woman found the emerald lady a great comfort.

==

Man'darr found the nearby veterinarian clinic. The building was heavily damaged with windows shattered. Upon entering the building, Man'darr found the place was a wreck. Bodies of dead Romulans littered the floor, obviously not a match for the invading Hydrans, being simple veterinarians. Man'darr entered the back area. He found most of the medicines shattered from the attack. He searched frantically through the cabinets and after a minute of se arching, he came across a half dozen small bottles containing clear liquids. He picked up one of the bottles, examining it closely--luckily he could under stand Rihannsu.

"Antibiotics," Man'darr said softly to himself, reading the label and then stuffing the bottle and other bottles into his pants. Man'darr then peered out of the building, seeing the area was clear and hustled into a full sprint as his side burned with the exertion and his legs pumped hard, carrying the large Capellan across the devastated cityscape. A few minutes later, Man'darr entered the field medical hospital and handed the Romulan doctor the medicine. "This was all that was left."

The Welsh woman was slipping back in unconsciousness by now. She vaguely heard her boyfriend come back, but she was too weak to answer.

Squinting at the label, the doctor read the tags and nodded. "This should do. I think." She loaded the liquid into a hypospray and jabbed it into the Marine's neck. "Her internal bleeding's stopped, but her fluids and electrolytes are perilously low. I'm going to infuse her circulatory system with saline to re-hydrate her. After that? Until we can bring her to a fully equipped medical facility, I'm afraid there's... nothing more we can do."

"Birds of Prey and Dogs of War"

Featuring
(Acting) Senator [Starfleet Lt.} Shiarriel t'Khnilamnae (Eric)
Crew of the Nierrh-class warbird "S'harrien"
Captain and Crew of the Klingon Bird of Prey "Dar'koch"

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

The seat felt .... odd.

Then again, serving as the Commander of a destroyer type Rihannsu warbird was odd enough as it was. She was a newer vessel compared to the aged yet ever reliable d'Deridex warbirds she had originally served aboard, with state of the art technology to mach her design.

As quick and maneuverable as the Defiant series, the Nierrh class mounted a markedly different armament. Fixed forward Disruptor cannon matched the sheer damage potential of the federation Pulse Phasers.

The torpedo launchers were also of a different design, again owing to the different parent technologies: 4 standard torpedo tubes marked the S'harrien's hull, two each fore and aft; these were joined by a 5th tube. Larger than the standard torp launchers, the assembly of this weapon was lined with a multitude of magnetic coils of a different type. Shiarrael especially enjoyed implementing this particular weapon.

"Helm, Hard over port. Weapons: target 4-7-Sierra. Engineering! … "

The dialog continued in much the same manner as this as the battle waged onwards and upwards.

As the S'harrien passed by a carrier her disruptors spit emerald death, the darts of energy splattering against the Hydran's shields.

Nearing the completion of her strafing run, the vessel's impulse thrust was cut and she spun about, her current momentum carrying her backwards. As soon as she was aligned properly, a globe of sickly yellowish-green energy burst forth from the nose on a direct course with the carrier. Her deadly payload dispensed, the S'harrien flipped about once more and sped off towards her next victim.

As the carrier exploded, a voice crackled over the S'harriens comm.

"That only counts as one!" The bridge of the klingon warbird Dar'koch came up on Shia's left hand command console. Shia merely smiled and turned to her bridge crew. To the right of the screen showing the Dar'koch;s captain was a small counter displaying tallied kills:

S'harrien – 34; Dar'koch – 18. An explosion could be seen to the left side of the S'harrien's bridge screen, the Dar'koch's count went up by

one:19

That was when the Starbeast died. "HAH!" the Dar'koch's captain exclaimed. "The Lyran's a worthy allies! They will be welcome in Sto'Vo'Kor!"

Shiarrael grinned, "the count begins anew, out of fairness to you and your honorable crew." This drew a victorious shout from behind the Dar'koch's captain, and the warbird sped ahead, the transmission closing. Shia nodded cooly to her crew.

Moments later the count stood for all to know: S'harrien – 8; Dar'koch – 3

na Hlai'vna: The Wild Bird - Part One

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Rihannsu Ambassador

= IRW Hlai'vna =
= The Battle for Romulus =

With the Galae, Aerv tr'Ahalaen had seen more than his share of combat.

He had served with distinction, always in the fray and in the fire, always aware of the dark shadow of doom. It was strange for the Rihannsu Ambassador to the Federation then, to watch a battle unfold before him in peace, safe from all prying eyes under the most advanced cloak the skill of his people could muster.

He was aboard the Hlai'vna, a quick, nimble vessel designed to keep the Empress safe and hidden in times of war. It was a ship of smoke and shadows, meant not for combat but for deception. How anyone thought that the Ruler of the Rihannsu Empire would be aboard the flag ship was beyond him. Aerv tr'Ahalaen, more than most, studied the cultures around him with a keen eye - for this own people he could only say this: the Rihannsu were capable of doing anything...except for the obvious.

For now stood alone in a dark, empty room, studying a holographic tactical display. Shrouded in safety, he yearned for danger....

"We offered you command of a ship for this battle, Aerv tr'Ahalaen, and you declined. You have lost then the right to look so forlorn, have you not?"

The Ambassador looked up, startled first that someone had managed to sneak into his quarters undetected, and then stunned to find that the intruder was none other than the Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu. Without thought, driven by a life time of training, he knelt.

"Please, Aerv...rise. I do not come to you now as a Empress."

"Some kneel to the Empress," Aerv tr'Ahalaen replied, rising to his feet with his usual fluid grace, "Others kneel to the woman."

Kaidalin t'Vriesu laughed - it was a surprising sound, soft and fragile, and one that few ever heard. So it was true...she was not here as the ruler of an empire. Indeed, Kaidalin was dressed in a simple white jumpsuit, her dark hair tied in loose knot. She had abandoned the pomp and splendor of her office tonight.

"Flattery, Aerv?"

"Always," he answered with a smile, "However, given how you met with the Reman demand, it is not false."

t'Vriesu folded her slender arms across her abdomen and gave him a wry look. It was striking how much like a young woman she seemed all of a sudden, removed from the restraints that her title trust upon her.

"There was little else I could have done."

tr'Ahalaen shrugged, "Perhaps. However, in these dark times, it is not every Rihannsu who puts our people before personal pride. It is...comforting to know that there is, at least, one."

"Two," she reminded him with a nod in his direction, "There are at least two."

Aerv shook his head, "The Federation Council would have probably acted as they did with or without my plea to them. The Remans would not have. It was your gesture that made the difference, Your Hi...."

"Kaidalin," she interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand, "And you may be right. Still that does not change what you did. In fact, what I did, I did in a closed council. You acted so publicly that...I fear you will never escape that moment, Aerv. Any career you may have had in politics is over...you will forever be the hero who knelt before the Federation. It will be a badge of shame."

"And a proud shame it will be."

Kaidalin laughed again. "You do have a way with words. I am told it makes you dangerous. Are you dangerous?"

"Only when the whim takes me." He paused, and shook his head, struck for the first time by how surreal this conversation was....

"Kaidalin...how did you get here?"

"I crawled through the service tubes."

"You...you crawled, Your Highness?"

"You look shocked," the young woman remarked with an impish grin, "So shocked, in fact, that you have not thought it proper to offer the Empress of the Empire a drink."

"I...yes, well - would you like something to...."

"No. Please, Aerv, I was joking." She shook her head, "Do you think you could, for a moment, think of me less as the embodiment of an imperial power and more as a woman?"

"That will be quite difficult."

"If I were so inclined, Ambassador, I could take that as an insult."

"Kaidalin...this is highly...."

"Improper? I had heard that was your specialty. I hope you do not intent do disappoint. Anyway, enough games - tell me, how goes the battle?"

"As well as can be expected."

"Good. Well there is nothing either one of us can do to change the course of things now in motion. So come and sit with me, Aerv. I have come here because I wish to speak with you alone...to determine for myself who you are, and who you will be."

= End Log =

"Initiative"

Colonel Enaris Hagan
Acting CAG, USS Atlantia

"Splash two, Taurus Leader."

In the cockpit of his new fighter, Enaris Hagan glanced at his readouts. "Copy that, Virgo Three.. Good flying." He checked the reads. The Atlantia Fighter Division had been in the thick of battle for fifteen minutes now, and while he was still terrified about the idea of leading two-hundred sixteen fighters into combat, he had to admit, they were doing far better than he could have dreamed. He'd only lost six craft, and he knew at least three of those pilots were still alive.

The Atlantia had entered right at the forefront of the battle, forward phaser cannons blazing, tearing holes into the Triad forces, and her fighters had launched from the bays and tubes, swinging into action and bearing down on the enemy in force. Hagan had to admit he was impressed. Depiste the massive number of nuggets his wings held, they were flying well.

"Lichun Wing, swing towards the Reman command group; looks like those Scorps of theirs are taking quite a beating. See if you can't clear their backs up a little."

There were calls of acknowledgement from the squadron leaders of the one-seventy-fourth wing, and he watched as seventy-one fighters peeled clear of the battle and formed up, blasting through space towards the large Scimitars near the edge of the combat field.

"Professor, this is AWACS-3, we got a whole passel of new ships comin' in."

Hagan looked up to see about two dozen dilapidated vessels, mostly frieghters, dropping out of warp. "Identify."

The AWACS birds didn't have time to repond before the fleetwide speakers crackled to life.

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

Hagan's eyebrows shot up inside his helmet. Joral Anton used to be a member of Phoenix Squadron during the Dominion War. Last Hagan had heard, he'd been killed several months back. Apparently, some people simply couldn't stay dead.

He didn't really have time to worry about it though before a T'Kith'kin fighter dropped in his kill zone. Throwing his fighter into a wild dive, he flipped around the secondary hull of a nearby Excelsior, probably scaring the living hell out of the ship's bridge crew, and whipped back, coming right inside the enemy fighters face and blasting him to dust.

He watched as the field around ch'Rihan opened up, and the four attack squadrons so ordered dropped into the atmosphere to go after the shield generators. He smirked, and turned his head to make sure the Atlantia's three accompanying Iwo Jima's were launching their landing craft, along with the rest of Atlantia's battle group. Together, they constituted a full brigade of the half-million person Marine Expeditionary force that Starfleet had heading to the planet. Hagan checked his readouts, and decided that it was time to take some damn initiative. Hell, just by virtue of the size of his command, he was probably the senior pilot in space at the time, or at least close. He knew there were several Mrshalls onboard the ships of the fleet, but he was the man flying, and so that made it his call.

Opening his comm, Hagan called to all the fighters of Atlantia's battle group, a full corps in all. "Fifty-ninth fighter Corps, form up on me. Let's get those Marines down there, people. Interceptors, take point. Bombers, fan out as soon as we're below the shield. Spread by squadron and target military installations with fighter escort."

He aimed his fighter for the ever-growing hole in the planetary shield, and led his people in. Never had he felt so powerful - nearly six-hundred fifty fighters at his command, balled up like an iron fist. He smiled.

"Fantastic."

"Divine Intervention"

Commander Joral Anton
CAG, USS Miranda (MIA)

The twenty-three ships of Gnallerr's group barrelled through the Hydran flank, somehow managing to take out two enemy cruisers in their first charge, an unprecedented feat for a medium cruiser, a light cruiser, a pair of frigates, and several beat up stock freighters. The large cat in the center seat chuckeld ferally and turned his chair. "Friend Commander, I bleieve this is your moment."

Off to the side, leaning heavily on a well-worn cane, the fleet's only non-feline occupant tried to hide is apprehension. It had been a long time since Joral Anton had seen other Starfleet personnel, and he hadn't quite planned on returning to the fold quite so dramatically. He nodded to the young woman at the communications console. "Open a general hailing frequency to all allied vessels."

On screens across the Federation, Klingon, Rihannsu, and Reman fleets, the deformed face of a battered Bajoran popped up, and a raspy baritone echoed across their bridges.

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

["This is Admiral Murdock, commanding from the Miranda. We heard ye were dead, lad. Glad it didn't take. Welcome yuir friends to the party."] came the crackling accented tones of Starfleet's CinC through the speaker.

Joral smiled, a geniune smile, the one that relished the fight. No one would ever say that he was a well man. "You heard the man, Gnallerr. Shall we?"

Gnallerr growled deep in his throat. "Indeed. Bring us around; All ships, target two-two-zero. Launch fighters. May Lyra smile upon us."

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

Among the mighty host that was the allied fleet, the two dozen Lyran ships were no visible dent, and they were all old and worn-out vessels. However, the effect that they had on the surrounding battle was disproportionate to their numbers. The crews of the ships essentially ignored the T'Kith'kind and Breen vessels unless they had to, their pilots weaving through the battle aiming for one Hydran ship after another, vengeance burning in their hearts. For a group made up of mostly jury-rigged freighters, the effect was devestating on the Hydran forces.

Joral watched in delight as the tiny resistance group managed to annihilate an entire Hydran carrier. The shock that the Hydrans must be feeling right now filled him with pride. Their crimes against the Lyran people were now coming back upon them tenfold, and they were paying their debt in blood... lots of blood.

Joral knew that it couldn't last, though. There was literally no way that only two dozen archaic vessels could survive in this situation. Sooner or later, thier luck would change, and the Hydrans would wipe them out. Their only hope was that Heth'ba would arrive with the other half of the group, and soon.

That very thought running through the Bajoran's head seemed to be enough to change everything, and a startled Ensign Greb'tha spun around from her console, calling out to Gnallerr. "Sir, the Ti'grh has fallen!"

Joral closed his eyes. The loss of the light cruiser meant the deaths of over two-hundred Lyrans, and constituted about twelve percent of their total firepower. It could be enough to doom the entire armada.

He wasn't far from the mark. Within minutes, freighters started dropping off of scanners, and the frigate Leeu had also turned into dust.

Joral watched the smaller ship cease to exist. It wouldn't be long now.

Three blasts hit the ship in rapid succession, and the entire CIC crew went flying. Panels blasted clear, and there was a distinct caterwauling coming from somewhere.

Joral, ironically, was the first one up, despite being a cripple. He was also the first one to notice that something was terribly wrong... besides the usual chaos of battle. It didn't take long to figure out what.

Half scrambling, half hobbling, he made his way over to where Gnallerr had been standing, and nearly tripped over his friend sprawled on the floor.

The Bajoran dropped to the floor, doing what he could for the fallen Lyran Commander, but he knew little to nothing about felinoid physiology. Hell, he barely knew about his own. "Medics!"

As the medics bustled over, Gnallerr opened his eyes, looking up at Joral. "Friend Commander, you must take charge."

Joral's eyes went wide. "You're out of your mind. I'm a fighter pilot, not a fleet commander..."

Gnaller waved a paw, hushing him. "There is no one else. You can do this." The medics arrived, pushing the Bajoran out of the way and lifting Gnallerr onto an anti-grav stretcher. The last thing he said as the pushed him out was, "You have the conn, Commander."

Joral stood next to the situation table blank-faced for several second before another blast shook him from his reverie. He looked up to realize the entire CIC crew was staring at him. In a hollow voice, he said, "I have the conn."

Another few seconds went by before young Ensign Greb'tha came quietly up to his elbow. "What are your orders, Commander?"

Joral seemed to come abruptly alive. "Recall all our fighters into screening position, and order the freighters to form up on our aft quarter. Put the Pulnma in flanking position. And tell the fleet I have assumed command."

The CIC crew started rushing around the chamber, enacting his orders. "Let's tear these squidheads apart."

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

As Joral had expected, the Pulnma didn't last long. Within five minutes, the frigate had recieved a killing blow from a Hydran cruiser. The freighters had again scattered, but the small group had managed to take out another three Hydran ships first.

Joral looked at the situation table, and for the first time realized that Gnallerr's chrono was sitting on it. The seconds ticking by seemed interminably slow. It wasn't going to be long now.

"Commander! Hydran fighter-bomber trio heading straight in. They have Hellbores!"

Joral looked up at the sit-display. "Where the hell is our fighter screen?!?"

"Scatterred, Commander. They have troubles of their own."

He watched as the Hydrans came closer. Vaguely, he heard himself order supressing fire, but it was clearly too late. It like, after everything, Joral Anton was still going to be taken down by an enemy fighter...

Two of the fighters exploded in spectacular fireballs, and the third suddenyl veered off, only to meet the same fate. A small Rogue-class fighter burst through the debris, flying solo.

Joral spun around. "Identify that fighter!"

Greb'tha's paws flew over the controls. "It registers as fighter SF-1-07, Rogue Seven, callsign 'Serenity'."

Joral's jaw dropped. His entire crew's ass just got saved by his own rook. "Open a channel to her."

He picked up the comm headset, and heard the click of the comm system. "Lisnaar, where the hell is your frakking wingman?!?"

An angry but youthful voice came back over the comm. "You're my gorram wingman, and don't you ever forget that!"

In the middle of the inferno, Joral Anton was laughing. As the Lyran ship flew through the battle, a small Rogue V fighter formed up on its wing, clearing their backs as they went.

Greb'tha. meanwhile, had her eyes glued to the status display, and suddenly the whole CIC heard her let out a war-whoop. "Commander! They're here!!!"

Joral looked up, and realized that his one medium cruiser was no longer alone. Dropping out of warp on the other side of the battlefield were twenty-two Lyran ships. A voice came over the fleet-wide comm. "This is General Heth'ba of the Lyran Reistance Force. May we render our aide?"

Joral switched frequencies. "Dammit, Heth'ba, you're late! We got some squids to clean-up."

An amused voice came back. "Agreed, Friend Commander. Let us do our duty."

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

Unfortunately, the battle simply wasn't going the way they had planned. Heth'ba's late arrival, combined with the chaos of combat, had thrown things off. Joral's tiny group had never managed to make it across the field of combat to form up with their General, and eventually, Joral had stopped trying, instead concentrating on diminishing the Hydran carrier capacity.

It wasn't until much later that he realized that Heth'ba had planned it that way. Joral would never know what had caused her to change the plan, and what had happened that had made her arrive late, but when he went over the logs days later, he realized that her entire group had arrived damaged, and short by three ships. In the battle, she lost several, but a dozen or so were still left when Heth'ba did what she had come to do.

In the CIC, Joral watchecd in horror as Hethba's group formed up, making a suicidal dive for the massive Starbeast. There was no way they could survive that, and everyone knew it. Joral dived for the comms. "Raise Heth'ba, now!"

Greb'tha tapped her controls frantically. "I can't reach her, Commander! There's no response."

Time stood still, and the crew watched in terror as their counter-parts were torn apart. Finally, about a dozen ships, led by Heth'ba's cruiser, dived headlong into the maw of the beast.

There was a beat of about two seconds. Then a flash of light.

Blinded, the crew shielded their eyes, when they looked up again, the Beast was dead.

All they could do was carry on. Their tears would have to wait, but they would be many. They were now alone.

"Lament for Icarus, Act III, Scene 3"

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes
Commanding Officer, USS Icarus
And crew

As the starship Miranda came out of warp, there was to her starboard quarter a smaller vessel, battle scarred and seemingly held together only by fate's goodwill. As the Triad fleet turned to face the threat of the massive Allied fleet bearing down on them, thsi small vessel fired the first shots of the battle, destroying one of the disabled Breen ships in a spectacular fireball, and then powering into the middle of the fight.

Aboard the Icarus, Juan Holmes sat in his command chair, the anti-grav seat discarded. He probably should have kept it nearby in case he felt the need to 'walk', but there was no way he was going to have that abomination on his bridge. He glanced at the aft scanners as the rest of the fleet followed his lead, proud of his skeleton crew for having led the way with such a spectacular volley. As long as they were likely to die in the first five minutes, they might as well put on a good show in the meantime.

"Helm, left full. Concentrate all fire on the disabled vessels. Let the fresh ships take on the T'Kith'kin. I want to clear out as many Hydrans and Breen as we can before they come back on line."

From the port side, the Chief at communications called out. "Captain, hanger bay reports system-wide failure in the launch tube systems. They can't get the fighters out there."

"Dammit!"

Several of the more inexperianced personnel tunred in surprise. They'd never heard the CO curse before. "Get them out of the tubes and into the bay. We'll do it the old-fashioned way. Get those tubes fixed!"

He glanced at the chrono. T-plus forty seconds. It had taken less than a minute for something to go wrong. He slammed his hand down in irritation on the armrest...

And promtly felt it throb with new pain.

He looked around to see if anyone noticed, to see Ares looking at him in bemusement. "You know, with everything else, you should probably avoid breaking your hand, too."

"Oh shut up."

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

It had taken over ten minutes to get the fighters out into space, and by then, the Hydran and Breen ships were powered back up. Icarus alone had taken out over thirty capital ships before they had come back to life, though, and it had made a differance.

They were down to fewer than two-dozen torpedoes, and Holmes had ordered all torpeo fire halted until they needed them. The phasers were certainly powerful enough to make a differance for now.

"Hydran cruiser opening fire, bearing 046 mark 21."

"Helm, Intercept course. Mr. Knight, show them what happens when you sting a wounded animal."

"Aye, Captain."

For a ship that probably should have been destroyed several minutes earlier, the Icarus packed one hell of a punch, and the Hydrans regretted their decision nearly as soon as they had made it. The cruiser lost its port nacelle to the Starfleet ship's phaser cannon, and the explosion that followed was truly magnificent. The small contingent of remaining fighters from the Federation vessel swept in, taking out the Hydran fighter screen as they went.

"Captain!"

At the fore of the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Elaithin was hunched over her console. "About two dozen new contacts coming in... Lyran configurations..."

Holmes was certain he wasn't the only surprised one on the bridge, or in the fleet, for that matter. He didn't have time to ask the obvious question before the fleetwide comms crackled to life:

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

A hearty laugh escaped from his XO. The Icarus had spent two weeks on the Rihannsu-Lyran border after Joral's disappearance looking for signs of him, and Holmes was glad that there were others on the bridge who were glad to see that the fighter jock was alive.

The battle carried on, the new but potent force adding to the Allied ranks.

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

~The luck of Icarus is nothing short of miraculous,~ Holmes mused, truly shocked that he and his crew weren't dead yet. The Lyran forces had been decimated, and though they were certainly winning the battle, Starfleet and their allies were taking heavy losses. The very notion that an undercrewed and badly-damaged ship such as his could possibly have managed to keep from being among those losses was nothing short of amazing.

He watched as a hole opened in the massive Hydran planetary shield around ch'Rihan, and heard Admiral Murdock's voice come over the comm system:

"Flagship to all ships - there's a hole in the shield. Launch all troop landing craft. Fighter Groups and Destroyer wings, escort them in."

It was then that Juan Holmes made one of those instantaneous decisions that change a man's career, if not the course of history. He stood - somewhat surprising in and of itself - and turned to his long-time XO. "Commander Khoma, the ship is yours."

There was complete silence on the bridge. Ares finally broke it. "Pardon?"

Holmes ignored him, knowing he didn't have to repeat the order. He glanced at the still-terrified chief at comm. "Inform the launch bay to prep one of the standby Valkyries. I'm heading down."

Khoma's voice cut through the din of battle. "Captain, I'd sure like to know what in the hell you think you're doing."

Holmes smiled at his friend and first officer. "I'm a combat pilot, Ares. I belong in the air."

A moment passed between them, in which Ares had a strange premonition of what was coming. Holmes put a hand on his shoulder, looking him square in the face. "She's your ship now, old friend. Take good care of her. You've earned it."

With that, Juan Holmes left the bridge of the Icarus.

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

Within minutes, the deck crew was shocked to see the figure of their captain hobbling across the bay, wearing a flight suit and carrying his old flight helmet, the winged Phoenix of his old squadron still emblazoned on it. His intentions were clear, and no one made a move to stop him. He managed to climb onto the wing and into the cockpit of the waiting fighter entirely on his own, and two techs rushed up to help him strap in.

The tech sergeant to his left snapped off a salute, not sure what else to do in this situation. "Captain, the tubes are back online."

Holmes smiled an old roguish smile. "Good. Then lets get this bird out there, shall we?"

The canopy slid shut, and the deck crew rushed to move the fighter into the launch tube. Holmes looed in his aft scanner as the tube door closed, and saw the entire deck crew standing in line, saluting.

Somehow, the fact that they seemed to not expect him to come back alive was comforting.

He tapped the activation control, and the fighter rocketted into space.

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

Bringing hsi craft around, Holmes aimed directly for the planet, ignoring the battle around him. He dived through the ever-increasing hole in the shield, and activated his comm. "All fighters inter-atmosphere, this is Icarus Actual. I'm taking command. Bombers and accompanying escorts, continue your attack. All others, get the Marines on the cround, and then form up over Ki Baratan."

He took a deep breath, punching his accelerator.

"Let's show these people what vengeance really is."

"Homecoming"

Flight Officer Lisnaar Adami
Rogue Six (In Confinement)

In the Miranda's brig, a lone security officer stood watch, irritated as hell that he had now spent two major battles in a row in this position. In fact, he had spent much of the past four weeks at this post, and he was getting quite tired of it. It was a rae thing that Mirnnda's brig was occupied at all, much less continuously for a month, but these were not normal times.

Inside the sole occupied cell, Lisnaar Adami lie on her back, listening to the combat feed on the brig speaker. She rarely spoke anymore. She had woken up the first morning after her confinement screaming to be let out, just as she had the previous two. They let her carry on for about an hour before Lieutenants K'aa and West had come down to tell her that this time she was going to be held until they could get back to a Starbase and leave her off for a general Court Martial. Apparently, her chronic refusal to report for duty and the public nudity and drunkeness was more than Starfleet was willing to accept, and the cold-blooded murder of several Cardassians a few months earlier had finally coem out when Major 'Slim' was revealed.

Major mel'Thora had been by briefly to say that she'd do what she could, but that was the only visitor Lisnaar had immediately after the incident. She was pretty pissed off that Colonel Mitchell had never come by. After all, he'd known her since she was a little girl.

Normally, they would hav gotted rid of her in a matter of days. But only four days later, the battle had happened at ch'Rihan, and so they were stuck with her.

During the battle, she'd tried to get the git of a Petty Officer to let her out. She felt, rather justifiably in her eyes, that keeping a qualified fighter pilot in hack in the middle of a major battle was far more criminal than anything she'd done thus far.

The guard didn't agree, and she'd spent the whole battle with the speakers on, listening to her colleagues dying, and screaming at the guard to release her, to no avail.

She'd not spoken much since then, really. There was no point. A couple of the surviving pilots had come to see her after. Artu came every couple of days, which she found odd at first; they'd never been close before. It wasn't until later that someone told her that he'd been Joral's wingman before her, and as such had taken to keeping an eye on her when she wasn't looking.

Major Starburst, it turned out, was the CAG now - no one else was left. She had been by a few times, and apparently had tried to get Lisnaar released, but the young Bajoran was apparently not considered reliable anymore, and with the death of Captain Summers, and both Major mel'Thora and Colonel Mitchell missing, things were a tad hectic now. No one had time for a self-destructive pilot.

And so here she was, in the middle of another major battle, the most important of her career - assuming she still had one - and once again, she was stuck in hack, with a surly jackass of a guard. She didn't even try to get released this time. She had long since stopped caring. All she could do now was lie there and listen to people dying on the battle feed.

That lasted until she heard those fateful words over the comm:

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

Lisnaar sat bolt upright, eyes wide in shock. Joral! She had long-since given up any hope that her former wingman was alive. They had left him behind on the hell that was Lyra. The last time she had seen him, he had sent her running off into the smoke with some message, and the battle had swallowed him whole. Joy filled her heart, and she lept to her feet....

Just in time to remember where she was.

A new determination filled her. She had to get out there where she belonged.

"Guard! You have to let me out of here!"

The Petty Officer looked up. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly two weeks now.

"We've been over this before. You're not leaving. I have my orders."

"Please? I can't stay here. I have to be out there. Right now!"

His eyebrows went up. She'd never sounded quite this desparate before. Clearly something had changed, but he didn't really care what. He opened his mouth to deny her again, when she upped the ante.

"I'll do anything. Just let me out..."

The guard's mouth snapped shut. Anything? He looked his prisoner up and down. She was certainly an attrative young thing, and if what he'd been told about the performance in the cantina that had landed her here in the first place was even half true, 'anything' could be quite encompassing.

A smirk graced his features, and Lisnaar felt her stomach twist in a knot as he came closer. Somehow, she knew she shouldn't have said that.

The guard tapped the controls, and the forcefield dropped. "Anything? Alright. I'll let you out to go die, but you have to do something for me, first." He walked right up to her. "On your knees."

Lisnaar was appalled. She had really hoped she'd been wrong in that guess, but apparently she was right on the money. "We don't have time for that!"

"It's the only way you're getting out of here, Darlin'."

The Bajoran's face set in a stoney expression, and she dropped down to her knees, trying not to let tears well up. She reached up to his waist slowly.

And then stood up over the unconcious guard, his phaser in her hands. Somehow, she hadn't expected him to be quite so dumb as to leave it on his belt where she could get it. Reaching down, she went ahead and pulled down his pants, anyway. They might as well find him in the state that he wanted to be in before getting knocked out - it might give her at least some credibility.

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

Five minutes later, Lisnaar Adami ran out of the squadron locker room in full flight gear. She hadn't felt so invigorated in a hell of a long time. Looking around, she realized her fighter wasn't there. With all the damaged ones from the last battle, they must have decided to use hers as a replacement. Jogging along the deck, she saw Master Sergeant Frost shouting orders to the deck crew. "Chief!"

He turned towards her. "Flight Officer Lisnaar? Might I ask what your'e doing hereabouts? Last I heard, you were in hack."

She raised a wry eyebrow. "Shut it Chief. Grab me the least damaged fighter here, and get it ready to fly."

The Chief knew better than to argue with the young woman. Bajorans in general weren't worth fighting with, and so he starting calling out to the deck crew. "Ok people, get 1-07 on the deck!"

Lisnaar blinked a couple of times. There was no way she'd heard that right. Her fighter had to be out already...

Following Frost, she jogged around the edge of a Warhammer, and there was her fighter, all ready to fly. She looked at Frost. "Chief?"

The deck chief smiled warmly at her. "I had her warmed up and prepped for you... jsut in case."

Lisnaar let a tear roll down he cheek, and threw her arms around a surprised Chief. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou..."

Frost laughed, and pulled out of the hug. "Don't mention it, kid. I heard the boss's voice come over the squack box. Get moving."

She hugged him quickly one more time, then joged to her fighter, jumping up to the wing, and then landing neatly in the cockpit. As the canopy closed, she heard a small cheer, and looked over to see about a dozen of the deck crew pausing their work to applaud her. She threw a jaunty thumbs up, and then threw all power into the throttle, blasting clear of the bay.

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

The battle was about the most chaotic she had ever even heard of. Debris littered the space around ch'Rihan, and corpses floated about. She knew there was no way she'd find Rogue Squadron in this mess. The Lyran battle group however, was no problem. Their distinctive ships were right in the thick of things. What was left of them.

Forcing full power into her aft thrusters, she powered that direction, hoping no bogies would notice this one lone fighter flying through the middle of the battle and not engaging. She was nearly to Joral's cruiser, and wondering what she was going to say, when she saw them - three Hydran fighter-bombers heading straight towards the Lyran ship. Checking her sensor readings, she did the math; there was no way that cruiser could survive a Hellbore onslaught in its current condition.

In the Lyran CIC, a felenoid voice called out to Joral.

"Commander! Hydran fighter-bomber trio heading straight in. They have Hellbores!"

Joral looked up at the sit-display. "Where the hell is our fighter screen?!?"

"Scatterred, Commander. They have troubles of their own."

He watched as the Hydrans came closer. Vaguely, he heard himself order supressing fire, but it was clearly too late. It like, after everything, Joral Anton was still going to be taken down by an enemy fighter...

Two of the fighters exploded in spectacular fireballs, and the third suddenyl veered off, only to meet the same fate. A small Rogue-class fighter burst through the debris, flying solo.

Joral spun around. "Identify that fighter!"

Greb'tha's paws flew over the controls. "It registers as fighter SF-1-07, Rogue Seven, callsign 'Serenity'."

Joral's jaw dropped. His entire crew's ass just got saved by his own rook. "Open a channel to her."

He picked up the comm headset, and heard the click of the comm system. "Lisnaar, where the hell is your frakking wingman?!?"

An angry but youthful voice came back over the comm. "You'