USS Denver – High Orbit over Vulcan

Riandri sat on the sofa in her quarters and stared at the reddish-brown orb that hung below the ship as she internalized the events leading up to the Battle of Betazed and to now. The Denver had arrived over Vulcan several days earlier and it had been a whirlwind of activity as the ship and the remaining vessels in the fleet scrambled for repairs. The news of the Romulans entering the war on the slide of the Federation and Klingon Empire was a relief but brought its own stress to her life especially when compounded with her rapid promotion and position as acting XO. 

She was pulled from her thoughts as a battle-scared Excelsior-class vessel drifted between the Denver and the planet. She tried to make out the name of the vessel but scorch marks had blasted way part of her name and registry. As she watched it drift by, worker-bees and crew were visible on her hull and around her eyes caught the dark outlines of what she thought were the Llangon Mountains. Memories of hiking through them over 60 years prior came to mind and she couldn’t help but smile. The years she had spent on Vulcan after the turn of the 24th century had been pleasant ones.

After only a moment’s hesitation, she confirmed she could take 24 hours of shore leave and grabbed her bag. Within minutes she had changed into loose-fitting pants, a top, grabbed her hat, sleeping gear and replicated enough food and water for a couple of days. With that, she left her quarters and made her way to the transporter room.

Vulcan – Llangon Mountains; Late afternoon

Late in the afternoon Riandri sat at the edge of a large cliff and looked down from the mountainside trail that she had been climbing for the last couple of hours and took in the view of the rugged and harsh landscape. Taking a long swig of water she couldn’t help but feel relaxed. She knew this was only a temporary reprieve from the war but being back here and on this trail took her back to a time that was less chaotic for her, when she was finally starting to pull the pieces of her life back together after fleeing from the Borg for so many years. Before the loss of James, the return of the Borg and this god-forsaken war.

Finishing her water she packed the container into her bag and set off further up the trail. She knew a small cave that would offer shelter during the night but it was several hours of hiking from her current location. Switching on her headphones she continued further into the mountain range, enjoying the solitude. 

Vulcan – Llangon Mountains; Evening

Riandri carefully made her way along the narrow trail, she pressed her body up against the rock face and avoided looking down into the empty void before her. When the sun had set visibility dropped dramatically and the cliff face at the edge of the trail contained nothing but empty air. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the trail having such a narrow passageway.

“Could I have gotten turned around?” she wondered out loud as she took the last couple of small steps before reaching the wider part of the trail. She paused and looked around, the powerful headlamp she wore illuminating her surroundings. She breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized several of the rocky outcroppings before she turned back and looked at the narrow path. Looking up the slop from it she could see what looked like the remnants of a rockslide.

“Damn, good thing I wasn’t walking along here when that let going…” she mussed before walking the final one hundred meters to the cave she was looking for.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally set her bag down and sat on a rock just outside the mouth of the cave to rest her feet for a few minutes. The remnants of a firepit were visible and she grabbed some dry bushes and other material from nearby and quickly lit a small fire. Pulling out a small collapsible pot she started to boil some water.

She was interrupted when she heard rustling coming from behind her, without thinking she jumped to her feet and spun around phaser in hand. As she did a small rodent-like Hayalit scurried between one bush and the next.

Shaking her head she sat back down. “You are too jumpy Ria,” she said to herself as she put the phaser away and rubbed the back of her next.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully as she enjoyed a cup of peppermint tea and some MREs with the occasional visit from the Hayalit before she climbed into her sleeping bag and went to sleep. Her last thought before sleep overtook her was how much she enjoyed getting away from everything for an afternoon. 

Rebecca was sipping her coffee in her ready room. On her computer terminal was the biography of the Romulan commander Starfleet Command had sent over.  She wasn’t sure how this mission with their new ally was going to play out.

Riandri tapped the door control to notify the Captain that she was outside. The increased interaction with Rebecca Talon had taken some getting used to now that she was acting XO. She could no longer squirrel herself away in the intelligence office but the more tasks she completed as XO the more grateful she was for the job. Before the door buzz a voice from behind her caught her by surprise. “Any idea what this is about?”

Turning she found Jeter, the former Command Master Chief, standing there. “New mission likely.”

Rebecca set her coffee down with the door chime, “Enter.”

“Captain, you wanted to see us?” Riandri said as she stepped in with Jeter on her heels. “What can we help with?”

“The Warbird Xoval, will rendezvous with us at the end of the day. Here is Starfleet’s intelligence on the captain, a Commander Tomarah.” She handed Riandri the PADD containing the Romulan’s biography. 

Riandri took the PADD and had a quick glance at it, “A Warbird, guess the joint operations are starting in full swing. What is the mission?”

“It would seem so,” Rebecca responded.  “We are infiltrate and gather intelligence on the Thelos Ship Foundry.”

Riandri cocked her head, “Really? Just the Denver and the Xoval? Last I checked the Dominion had really beefed up security around their shipyards.” She glanced back down at the report and sighed, “Guess I have some reading to do on this Tomarah. Do we have a rough plan on how we will approach this?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I have never worked with any Romulans. I’m not sure.”

“Romulans are tricky. Best to keep our eyes open and watch our backs. That said we share the same enemy so their focus will likely be there.”

“Nothing like wading through a political minefield,” Rebecca quipped.

The com beeped, “Captain we are being hailed by a Commander Tomarah. She and her party are ready to beam over.”

Rebecca glanced at Riandri with a raised eyebrow, “I’ll meet her in transporter room one Ensign.  Talon out.” Rebecca sighed and stood, “Our new friend doesn’t waste any time.”

“It would appear not, they must have pushed to make it better this early. Shall we met our new allies?” Riandri asked.

Transporter Room One…

Blue energy of a transporter beam illuminated the transporter room.  As the effect faded three Romulans materialized.  The woman was sporting a non-traditional hairstyle while the two men with serious expressions. Disruptors in their belts.

“Welcome to the Denver. I am Captain Rebecca Talon and this is my first officer Lt. Commander Riandri Nalam.”

Riandri nodded towards the Romulans at the mention of her name. “Welcome.”

The woman stepped off the pad and extended her right hand offering a shake of hands, “Commander Tomarah t’Sei. I believe this is a traditional human greeting?”

“It is,” Rebecca confirmed accepting the handshake.

Tomarah’s attention turned to Riandri, “You are El-Aurian? I confess I do not know your people’s traditional greetings.”

“Very few people, even ones who know my race can tell us from a human a quick glance. Though I assume your intelligence has the dossiers of most of the senior crew, if not more.” Riandri said with a cold smile.

Before Tomarah could respond the door opened and Jeter walked in. “Captain, Lieutenant Commander,” he said with a nod before looking towards the new arrivals. “Apologies for being late.”

“Commander,  this is our new Strategic Operations Officer,  Lt. Commander Robert Jeter.”

Tomarah bowed her head in greeting. “To answer your question Commander,” Tomarah said to Riandri.  “You are correct. There are full dossiers of the senior staff collected by the Tal Shiar.  While I found being an operative distasteful old habits do die hard. However, I find walking blind into a situation… unfavorable.”

Riandri smiled at that, “I share similar feelings on that topic which explains our mission.” Riandri turned to Rebecca, “I believe we have the observation lounge ready, shall we move there?”

“That will be acceptable,” the Romulan replied. 

Observation Lounge…

Jeter stepped into the Observation lounge and stepped to the side, sweeping his around out and into the room, “Grab any seat you like Commander Tomarah. If you would like I can replicate a beverage for you and your companions?”

“We do not require refreshments,” Tomorah replied. 

Riandri followed Commander Tomarah into the room and smiled at Jeter for a moment before taking a seat with her back to the window and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. “We have much to discuss.”

“We do.” Without wasting time Tomorah spoke,  “We are to gather intelligence on Thelos Ship Foundry in preparation for a full-scale assault.”

Riandri nodded, “So we have been told. A tricky task given their heavy presence in the system. Our intelligence also indicates that there is a sensor net outside the system, there are gaps but it will be a difficult job.” 

“Not to state the obvious,  but two ships aren’t going to take on a shipyard and I hate to break it to you we don’t have a cloak,” Rebecca replied. 

“The cloak isn’t always foolproof and both of our governments do not want a single ship on this mission,” Tomorah replied. 

Jeter let out a little chuckle at that thinking back to 2368 and his time on the Tian En Men when they took part in preventing a cloaked Romulan convoy from supplying a rogue Klingon faction with weapons. “That is very true Commander, though it has its flaws would your government be willing to share one with the Denver this mission?”

Riandri cocked an eyebrow at that, it would add complications to the mission but it could make a difference. “That is an interesting point you raise Commander but we should not rely on such a device. I am sure the Dominion going to be implementing Tacyhon detection systems around their key systems very soon.”

“I am not authorized to provide such technology to you or your government,” Tomarah replied.  “And you are quite right the Dominion has been infuriatingly adaptable to cloaking technology,  but under the right conditions, we believe our ships are undetectable.  However,  backup nearby is desired.”

Jeter smirked and shrugged, “Can’t blame me for asking.”

“So Tomarah, you are suggesting the Xoval conduct the infiltration if the right conditions are established?” Riandria said and glanced at Rebecca, “How close is nearby?”

“Outside sensor range I’d think,” Tomarah said.  “And no the Xoval will not be conducting the infiltration.  The warbird’s power signature is such I cannot guarantee success.  You may utilize one of our shuttles, with some of my crew of course.”

Jeter leaned forward and grabbed a glass of water, “If you can get in close enough to get a team on board the station we could likely get some very useful information.”

“The Empire is planning a full scall assault pending the intelligence gathered,” Tomarah replied.

“It would be good to use our Tactical Recon Team on this as well,” Riandri added. “Perhaps Jeter’s could lead it from our side.”

Rebecca had been reviewing the area on a map from hee PADD. “I know what the Denver can be doing in the meantime there’s a prisoner of war camp in the Kardaleon Cluster three lightyears from the the shipyards.”

Tomarah raised an eyebrow,  “It us unlikely to be defended that deep into enemy territory,  but how will you approach without them transmitting a distress signal?”

“I have looked into this a bit,” Jeter said as he pulled up a holo display of the cluster. “The Kardaleon cluster often experiences strong solar winds and radiation spikes, if we time it right the Denver should be able to slip in without detect and hide among the asteroid field.”

“We can also mask our warp signature to make us look like a Nyberian freighter,” Rebecca added.

Riandri nodded in agreement, “That is a fair point, we should be able to sneak through without issue.” Turning to Tomarah, “Is your ship and team ready to depart? We could travel most of the way together but I would suggest our Recon team run through some training with your team for the infilration.”

“I would not be sitting here if we were not ready,” Tomarah replied.

“I appreciate that,” Rebecca added. “We too are ready for departure.”

“Excellent,” Riandri said. She turned to the Captain and spoke, “Shall I call the department heads so we can update everyone?”

“Make it so,” Rebecca replied. 

“I will return to my ship, and while you brief your crew we can head for the ship yards,” Tomarah stated.

“Very good,” Rebecca said. “Mr. Jeter please escort our guests to the transporter room.”

Jeter nodes and stood, “Commander if you and your officers would follow me?”

Doctor Lorsa Efe sat out of the way on an empty biobed, a PADD with the latest medical journal propped up on her lap. The rest of sickbay was quiet. The last patients from the Battle of Betazed had gone home. Now it was just a matter of holding down the medical ward in case of accidents.

“Ooh! I read that issue! The one on better streamlining of triage is fascinating!” Tavana gushed from behind. “I highly recommend the abstract on alternative uses of White.”

Tavana stepped away from the woman and set her bag down on an adjoining biobed. Grinning brightly, she held her hand out. “Excuse me, I’m Tavana Malax. Apparently, I’m the new Chief Medical Officer.”

Lorsa set the PADD down and stood, accepting the handshake with a raised eyebrow as neither were human, “Lorsa Efe, orthopedics. Nice to meet the new boss. You’ve got your hands full.”

Tavana laughed. “I’m sure I do. I don’t mind though. This is sure to be more stimulating than dealing with Vulcans all the time.” She waved a hand in an arc with an eye roll. “They are such stiff beings. While I like my solitude – and yes I’m unlike my species, the Vulcan distance is disconcerting, to say the least.” Reading Efe’s body language, she added, “I picked up some Human traits despite being on Vulcan, I’m afraid.” She chuckled softly. “We Denobulans are social, so I found the idea of handshakes to be a good way to ‘break the ice,’ as they would say.”

Tavana then stepped back a step and clapped her hands together, rubbing her palms back and forth. She took in the format of the room for a moment, then turned back to Efe. “Where can I find the Chief Medical Officer’s office, or do you wish to keep it for yourself instead? I’m not picky that way. I can keep an office space in my quarters if that suits you best. I understand you’ve done quite a good job keeping things in hand here.”

“My office is elsewhere. Yours is over there,” Efe pointed across the sickbay.

“Thank you!” The Denobulan woman picked up her things and headed where the Bajoran indicated.

Carefully but quickly, Tavana put everything she had away. With a satisfied smile, she nodded her approval. Once back in Sickbay proper, she noted where everything was. Each starship was different, no matter what the class.

Doctor Lorsa watched her new CMO retreat into her office. “Well, our holiday is over. Time to get to work,” Efe said to a nearby nurse.

“She seems nice,” the nurse observed.

“Yeah,” Efe said with a mischievous grin. “They always sound nice at first… but I think in this case you would be correct.” She looked down and gathered her belongings. “There’s a number of new crew and existing crew in need of physicals. Let’s get that list compiled for Doctor…”

“Tavana,” the nurse added helpfully.

“Yes, of course. Let’s get that list for the doctor. How is the inventory going?”

“Uh… I think Virginia and T’yoil are almost done.”

“Good,” Efe said. “Let’s get that to her before she asks if we can.”

“Of course, doctor.”

[Planet Vulcan-Vulcan Science Academy – 900 Hours]

The Vulcan male was taller than her by two heads, and he looked severely at her. Just like when they were younger. Just like when they were younger it was a struggle not to express a desire to punch him in the nose. But such thoughts were violence, and illogical. Sibling rivalry was illogical.

”Our parents are unavailable. However I will show you the Science Academy if you wish. If know you desired to go here,” he said.

T’Val nodded, “I applied. I would have been unfulfilled if I went here. I needed something more than pure intellectual learning.“

”You look very… human in that uniform,” he replied.

It was as biting of a remark as one Vulcan could make to another. She had somehow hit a chord with him. Perhaps he too had misgivings about the purely theoretical nature of his current work. Though it was too advanced for T’Val to fully come to terms with it, she did understand that it was centuries off from being able to produce any actionable results. Besides Vulcans serving in Starfleet was common and accepted, getting snippy about it was… well illogical.

”Humans are valued allies, what they lack in logic they make up for in qualities Vulcan’s do not have in abundance. They are an important part of the Federation’s diversity,“ she said. 

He did not press the point. They were at war, even the most isolationist Vulcan would concede that they could not survive the Dominion assault on their own. Her brother was pompous but not an isolationist and not a fool.

“Security though,” he said.

”Yes,” T’Val said.

”You have a degree from an advanced Vulcan educational institute. Certainly the sciences would be a more logical use of your skills,” he said.

”We are physically stronger, faster, and more durable than humans. We are at war. The universe has little need of my knowledge of black holes, but I can punch a Cardassian and that is a most efficient use of my time,” she said. 

“You can not punch everything in life,” he said.

”Unfortunately you are correct brother,” she agreed.

”I have been reading statistical analysis on the life expectancy of Starfleet officers. It is trending downward,” he said.

”You are correct. I have factored that into my career decisions,” she admitted, knowing that this was how he was telling her that he cared for her. Another species might have hugged but instead they stopped to study a statue. It’s form was pleasing to the eye.

”Will you come to see us for dinner,” he asked, “Mother and father’s research is fascinating. They can best explain it.”

”Perhaps another night, I have duties,” T’Val said, “Besides Mother and Father find it taxing explaining things to me. I am not the daughter that they wished me to be. Mother in particular found my decision to attend Starfleet Academy a waste of resources.”

“Of course. I would not ask you to neglect them to focus on social engagements. Such a course would be illogical,” he said.

She nodded in acknowledgment of his statement. 

“I read your paper. It’s scope is beyond my understanding but it is clear that if your work is not immediately changing the world today, it will in the future. You should find satisfaction in your achievements,” T’Val said, trying to tell him that she cared for him too.

He nodded in acknowledgment of her statement.

”I am more capable of patience than you have proven to be, but such a wait is taxing,” he admitted.

”My human co-workers tell their siblings they love each other,” T’Val said, “As a sign of affection.”

”They are a strange illogical species,” he said.

T’Val nodded, ”Yes, they can be.”

”Live long and prosper sister,” he said.

”Peace and long life brother.”

[ USS Denver -Gymnasium -940 Hours] 

Stepping back she exited the Vulcan Science Academy and then once a respectful distance away from the entrance tapped her communication badge and beamed back to the Denver. Two hours from her shift T’Val immediately went to the gymnasium to hit things, even though the interaction had been the most pleasant one that the had had with her bother for in over a decade.

It was not the case that emotions and Vulcans did not mix, it was just that Vulcans kept them sublimated and redirected them. Or T’Val was not a good Vulcan, she had never been sure which. Her family made her feel small and at times angry and while she no longer yelled or punched anyone she did like hitting things even though it was illogical. 

Hopefully nobody put together her recent visit to her home world with her working out. Being seen as cold and logical had its uses and she did not want to be responsible for humans learning that Vulcans really had feelings. Just differently.

The punching bag made a satisfying thunk noise as her padded fists hit it. She went for speed, working on strengthening her arms. When your enemy could look like anyone, you could not rely on being near a phaser when they approached for it would be strategic and logical for them to get in close and take advantage of trust. 

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

T’Val eventually stopped. Had a sonic shower and prepared for duty. It would not be logical to be late.

The senior staff of the USS Denver had been all called to report to the observation lounge one by one they entered,  Captain Talon sitting patiently at the head of the of the conference table sipping her coffee.  Outside the massive windows streaks of light zipped past as the ship traveled at warp. A Romulan Warbird traveled in close formation. 

Ming headed toward the observation lounge for the senior staff meeting as ordered.  It felt odd being in a standard uniform these days.  More often he was in a fighter pilot’s flight suit…The modern ones being made to, with the helmets, help a pilot survive should a fighter sustain damage to where the cockpit environment evacuated due to damage or, worse yet, ejection was necessary.  He preferred to be ready to go if the fighter wing was called on but it was a day where a standard duty uniform was in order.  

As he entered the observation lounge he noticed two things.  The scent of coffee and that he was the first senior officer to arrive aside from Captain Talon.     He mentally shrugged as he walked in, nodding and saying in respectful greeting before taking a seat, “Captain Talon.”  

“Mr. Ming,” Rebecca greeted over her coffee.

Riandri stepped into the room as she stared down a tablet and reviewed the information they had on the Kardaleon Cluster. She glanced up as she entered the room and nodded towards the Captain and Ming. “Glad I am not late,” she muttered and took a seat beside Rebecca.

“You are,” Rebecca teased.  “Fifteen minutes early is on time.  On time is late.” It was a philosophy she personally hated, but common enough within the fleet.

Jeter slipped into the room quietly and grabbed a chair. His mind was preoccupied with concern regarding working with a Romulan ground team and as he had been in the meeting with Commander Tomarah he had a pretty good idea of what was about to be discussed. 

Tavana walked into the conference room, looking around the room to put the inhabitants to memory. “Hello Captain. I trust you are well?” She asked with an easygoing smile. As she went to her seat, she stopped suddenly. She tilted her head to the side with a questioning look in her dark eyes. She knew the Romulans had become allies, but she found herself conflicted. The opportunity to deal with the counterparts to Vulcans held an intriguing appeal. The long-standing distrust of the Romulans however, tempered her curiosity. Time would tell, to be sure. 

A quick shrug of her shoulders and a small head shake of dismissal shook her from her musings. She regained her smile and took a seat.

Collins arrived and took a seat near the middle of the table.

Arin slid through the doors at a brisk pace. Padd in hand, taking one of the last open seats on the port side. She wanted to through her relief under the bus for being tardy, but tattling was infantile. 

Cezear entered the lounge and looked around the room taking it all in, the senior staff settling themselves around the table in their presumably usual seats. “Well here goes nothing. Hello Captain. Good morning all.” as he took one of the last open seats at the table.

Rebecca nodded to Cezear,  but remained silent as the crew settled into their seats.

Conroy walked into the room among the last of the crew to arrive. He quickly took his seat, and looked around the room before picking.

“Okay with everyone here,” Rebecca announced sitting up and setting her coffee down.  She entered commands into the keypad on the table and the blank displays winked on. The Thelos Ship Foundry came up on the screen. “Our primary objective.” She paused to let that sink in. “This isn’t a full frontal assault. We are going to get in with our new Romulan allies and gather as much intel on the base as possible. The Romulans are preparing for a full scale attack later this year so getting in and out undetected is paramount. That team will be lead by Commander Jeter. Pick your team and explain what will be happening.”

Jeter nodded as he stood and with a wave of his hand projected an image of the shipyard over the table. “Thank you. As the Captain has just outlined we will be infiltrating the Foundry with a Romulan team from the Xoval. Stealth will be critical for this mission so we will only take a small number of officers. Ideally, we will be in and out without being seen but in the case that we aren’t the team will consist of Lieutenants Ming, Collins, Viat, and Beattie.” He looked at each of the officers he had mentioned before continuing, “We will beam over to the Xoval shortly to get acquainted with the Romulan officers who will be taking part. Once the Xoval is in position we will travel by a cloaked shuttle to the Foundry. Given the size of the shuttle, we should be able to slip past any detection grids or defences that are in place. Once on-site, we will beam aboard and access their computer core to obtain as much critical information on the defences, layout and planned patrol schedule. Once complete we beam out and return to the Xoval.” With that, he sat down and looked over at Captain Talon, “Back to you Captain.”

Cezear looked up as his name was called. “Yes sir. “ as he started to think about what gear he would need to bring on the mission.

Collins nodded as the briefing continued. 

Ming stirred.  He’d never particularly been fond of the Romulans…The Rihansu as he understood they liked to call themselves.   The phrase about odd bedfellows wasn’t lost on him.  He’d do what he could to make everything work to the best of his ability, but he’d have to get past one of the few biases he had.  

Arin commented. “Ach, they can’t be all bad. Any race that makes something as interesting as Romulan Ale, can’t be all bad. We just need to do a few pub crawls.”

“Maybe when this is all done we can revisit that,” Jeter said dryly as his mind ran through the mission prep and possible challenges.

“Commander, do we know the composition of the Romulan team? “ cezear asked as he listened to the brief. 

“Commander Tomarah did not inform us,” Rebecca cut in. “It’s hard to say how much involvement they will have, but as of now they are committed to the war effort and our allies. Let’s try to keep that in mind and give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“As for the rest of us. The Denver isn’t going to slip up on a shipyard unnoticed.” Entering commands the screens changed, “One point five lightyears from our main objective is the Kardaleon Cluster. On an asteroid near the 5th planet is a Prisoner-of-war camp. We are going to liberate this camp.”

Riandri leaned forward slightly before speaking, “We do not have much information on the numbers of POWs on site or who they may be but our goal is to get all of them out. We will mask our warp signature so we appear to be a Nyberian freighter, that mixed with the strong solar winds and radiation in the region the Denver should be able to approach without issue.” 

Tavana leaned forward to see the schematics better. “We might want to get a shuttle bay or 2 set for triage and recovery afterwards. I also suggest the critical cases, those who are close to death or other high probability case, be directly beamed to Sickbay. I can also have Lt. Efe get a team together to go down to the camp. I can direct things best from here.” She sat back, sienna eyes hopeful and still somewhat serene.

“The Dominion isn’t known for being gentle, so casualties are likely,” Rebecca agreed. “However,  Shuttlebay 2 has been converted into a fighter bay and quarters are quite cramped.  Perhaps Cargo Bay 5 will fulfill your triage needs.”

Tavana nodded. “I think that will be fine. I’ll put my people on it.” The Denobulan smiled. “I’ve been itching to try the new triage system I read about in a recent journal. I need to check with Efe if she’s gotten to that…” Her tone trailed off as she became lost in thought.

“We could possibly leave it as a permanent fixture. We’ll likely need it again,” Rebecca said.

Tavana nodded enthusiastically at the Captain’s suggestion. “Yes, Captain, that would be wonderful! If we could impose upon Engineering, we could rig up equipment and such when needed.” A red eyebrow rose at this. “Forgive me, but our Engineer is who now?” She looked around the table in confusion. 

“At the moment Ensign McKenzie is covering engineering,” Rebecca said.

Arin’s head was already filled with a myriad of scenarios. The asteroid field made it double. Her hands flying over the padd, she pulled from the main screen and started flight plans in her head while listening. 

“It is not defended and equipped with only rudimentary shields and garrisoned by a small battalion of Jem’Hadar, ” Rebecca replied. “We need to get in and knock out their subspace antenna before a distress signal can be made.”

Arin piped up, “Not to put too fine a point on it, Captain, but since this is likely to be a new base, the defenses hopefully won’t be set up, and prisoners and maybe a few goodies for Research and Development?”

“Goodies are unlikely,  but Commander Nalam might be able to get intel off the bases’ computers. Ms. Jones expect to fly the away team over to the base on a shuttle.  I don’t want to risk transporters until we control the base.”

“Aye Captain,” Arin replied. Then added, “If I can, I’d like to take one of the runabouts. If the transporters fail, I can either relay back to Denver with its transporters or at the very least take the first 40 off that rock.”

“Makes since.  Runabout it is.”

“Alright people,  I’ll let you break off into your teams. You are all dismissed.” Rebecca said with finality.

A group of fifty prisoners was marched into a central hub, their hands bound in fetters. Jem’Hadar guards pushed the stragglers with their polaron rifles. In a loose formation, Federation, Klingon, and even a handful of Cardassian and Romulan prisoners stood facing a Jem’Hadar with a stern expression.

“This is Internment Camp 376. You are here because you were enemies of the Dominion. Victory is life, and you have failed. Now you are dead; you just didn’t know that until now. I am First Vor’kan. Names are for the living; you no longer possess one. From now until you draw your last breath, you will think and refer to yourself by your prisoner number. If you do not… there will be consequences.”

The First paced before the front row of prisoners, contempt in his expression. He stopped before a Klingon. The massive warrior was badly injured, having taken something to the face. His right eye was swollen shut, and infection had set in on the wound.

“Pathetic,” Vor’kan sneered. “What is your designation, Klingon?”

The Klingon spat on Vor’kan’s boots. “I am Gravax, son of Torak.”

Vor’kan did not react to the Klingon’s spit. He simply drew out a small black device and pointed it at Gravax, depressing the button. The Klingon howled in agony; his screams echoed off the walls, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened combat veteran.

The Klingon collapsed to the deck, and a pair of guards lifted him up to face Vor’kan once more. “What is your designation Klingon?”

“Gra…vax… son… of… Tor…ak.”

Vor’kan pressed the button once more, and the guards dropped the hapless Klingon to the deck with a heavy thud. He writhed in pain, lurching. His screams had long been cut silent. After five minutes, he spasmed one last time, lying lifeless where he had been dropped.

“Any questions?” Vor’kan asked as he walked in front of the prisoners. He paused at a blonde human female. “You are a female,” he said, disgust in his voice. “Weaker than the already weak males of your species.”

She looked over at the dead Klingon, ‘What a waste. Pride will only get you killed here’. She looked back at the Vorta in front of her and the Jem’Hadar who flanked her. She cocked her head as she appraised the Vorta and smirked, “Not as weak as you think.”

“What is your designation, human?”

‘Human? Sure I guess,’ she glanced down at her dirty clothes half expecting to see a number there then let out a chuckle, ‘Like the Dominion would waste time on prison uniforms…’ With a shrug, she responded, “8472.”

“You can learn.  Perhaps you will survive longer than most,” the Jem’Hadar First said contemptuously. “Tell me, what suits you best? Construction of weapons or the mines?”

She pursed her lips and looked around at the other prisoners, “If I had to choose can I go for option three? Relaxing on the beach?”  

The Jem’Hadar backhanded her, “Sass will not be tolerated.  You will be assigned to Barracks 5 where you will make torpedoes. Fail to meet the quota, you die.  Sabotage or deviate from standard specifications,  you die.”  To emphasize his point he pointed his remote at her. Unlike the Klingon, it wasn’t set to kill,  but cause every pain receptor in her body to activate.

The prisoner looked at the Jem’Hadar with venom in her eyes as she held in a scream. As the pain subsided involuntarily shuttered and almost fell to the ground but was able to steady herself. She had expected this given her response but she wasn’t going to push them to the point they killed her, that would do no one any good.

“Do not test me human. You wouldn’t be the first, and you will not be the last.”

Up next in line came an older, light blue male.  He didn’t even give the Jem’Hadar the time to ask.  “Designation 2460.  Construction, if possible.”  His voice came out raspy, as he hadn’t had enough water in a while.  

“Your species must be able to learn faster than humans, and certainly Klingons. Do not forget these lessons today. Barracks five.”

She looked over at the other prisoner and hid a smirk. ‘He knows how to play the game, or is a coward…’

“Take them away,” Frist Vor’kan said. He had made his point.

Barrack Five

Less than five minutes later they found themselves outside a heavy metal door with ‘B5’ written on the door. The lead Jem’Hadar soldier quickly entered a code into a small panel beside the door causing it to swing open. 

“Your new home, until you die,” he growled and shoved the blond woman known as Prisoner 8472 through the door roughly.

She caught herself before falling to the ground moments before the blue-skinned male and a Cardassian were pushed in and the door slammed behind them.

With an exhale she pushed herself up and brushed off her clothes as she looked around. The room was rectangular and had five bunk beds along each side, most of which were empty. “Well, looks like our new home could use some decorations. It’s a bit drap.”

As she spoke she look in all the details. ‘Now, how can we escape,’ she thought to herself.

Checking around himself, Xarin took in the room before directing his attention to the human female with him  “If you’re planning on trying to escape, you’ll want the empty bed three-quarters of the way back.  The way this room is built blocks anyone at the entrance from seeing that particular bed, however, the ones all the way back are too visible just to discourage escape.” Saying this, he set himself up one bed in front of the aforementioned bed before examining the bedframe itself.

She glanced back at him and nodded in agreement as she walked the length of the room, “I had the same thought myself.” As she stepped up to the bed beside the one Xarin took she sat down on the lower bunch and rolled her shoulders before laying down. “That shock device they have is unpleasant.” As she lay there she smirked as she noticed a screw was partially undone, as she reached up and began to see if she could twist it she glanced at the other officer, “So, how’d they get you?”

Xarin grunted, “Was unfortunate enough to be the engineer on the Benimaru when it came down over Tanvas IV. Was also unfortunate enough to survive.  Lived in the wilderness for a week with the other survivors before we were cornered and taken in.  How about you?”  He started pulling the bedframe itself apart, managing to pry loose one of the bolts.

The screw slowly began to turn but she had to jam the nail of her thumb into the small groove to gain enough leverage. “Honestly cannot recall, was on shore leave then in a cell. It is rather…” she growled as she gave the screw one hard twist, “…disconcerting.”  A second later she pulled her thumb back and looked at the ripped nail and blood dripping down her hand, ”Damnit, that stings.” She wiped her land on her pants and tested the screw several times to ensure she could get it out when needed before looking at the other prisoner, “Any idea how long you were captured?”

“Here” Xarin handed her a piece of scrap metal he had twisted off of his bedframe. “This should work better.  As for how long it’s been, your guess would be as good as mine.  I lost consciousness during the attack on the Benimaru.  She went down in the Cardassia sector and I woke up on the ground.”  He bent over, holding the frame still so she could better unscrew it.  “Apparently I was useful enough to be evacuated from the area when the Federation attacked again. Though I doubt I’d survive a second time.”

She glanced at it quickly before taking it, “Cheers.” Sitting up she let out a sigh, “Was hoping we had an idea of the stardate.” She glanced at the other prisoners in the and each shook their head in turn. She was about to speak again when a klaxon sound and the lights flashed red for a moment and a loud voice came over the speakers.

“LIGHTS OUT IN ONE MINUTE. ALL PRISONERS MUST BE IN THEIR RACKS OR THEY WILL BE PUNISHED.”

The next several days passed in a blur. Prisoner 8472, as she jokingly thought of herself at times stumbled as she was pushed back into the barracks before falling to her hands and knees. Behind her the door slammed and the laughter of several Jem’hadar soldiers could be heard. She pulled herself onto the nearest bed before she wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and brushed her wet and matted hair from her face. “They do get sadistic pleasure out of treating their captives like shit.”

Xarin stood from his bunk with difficulty and made his way to Prisoner 8472 to offer his hand.  “Even if we don’t defy them, they find their ways to entertain themselves.”  He coughed, his skin looking rougher than even when they arrived.  “Ever since that Voorta caught on that my species is aquatic, he’s taken a perverse pleasure in dehydrating me.” His cough sounded through the barracks, sounding drier and rougher.  Once 8472 was up, he stumbled back to his bunk. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help again.  On the bright side, there’s so few of us left that they haven’t been bothering with heavy surveillance.”

“They will get what is coming to them, they aren’t as smart as they think they are,” she said with a cough before standing and making her way to her bunk. As she passed she placed a hand on Xarin’s shoulder and smiled, “Stay strong hold out for as long as we can. Take some of my water at the next meal. I got my fill during my last chat with the Vorta.”

Ensign Aoife McKenzie stared down at the display in front of her. For the fourth time in as many days, the system was acting odd. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what was going on. Nothing major, just a series of failures out of the ordinary.

She straightened back and pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Davies, I need you on the communications array again. It’s out of alignment.”

Crewman Davies turned to face McKenzie and nodded. “On it, boss.”

Lieutenant Commander Jeter walked into Engineering and spotted Ensign McKenzie. “Ensign, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Commander,” she said, turning to Jeter.

“Perfect, I wanted to check in with someone in engineering as I have been informed of several systems acting oddly the last few days. Mainly low-level power fluctuations, internal sensors sending false readings, that sort of thing. Have you come across anything like this?”

“Yeah… a lot, actually. The Communication’s array is out of alignment again. I just had it recalibrated yesterday. And before that, the targeting sensors were non-functional.”

A very visible look of frustration flashed across Jeter’s face. “Hmm, I was not aware of the comms array or the targeting sensors. Those two, especially, are ones we cannot be having issues with. Have you been recording all these by chance? I would appreciate seeing a list of the systems acting up and what the issues were if possible.”

“All repairs are logged into the computer,” Aoife replied. “I can pull the logs up in the Chief’s office.” Leading Jeter across engineering, they entered the office of the Chief Engineer.  

Sitting down behind the desk, her fingers entered commands into the controls. After a few minutes of manipulating the computer, she stood and offered Jeter the seat.

“Most of these repairs are routine maintenance. Hell, all of these failures aren’t unheard of. With a few exceptions. The replicators on Deck only producing water without the pitcher is a bit odd. As is the frequency of the communications array being out of alignment. It has been repaired six times in the last eight days.”

Jeter scrolled through the list, mentally checking off each item. “I have seen pretty much all of these before, as you say, not unheard of. Even come across similar issues with the replicators before; a damn fussy piece of tech.” When he got to the bottom of the list, she stepped back and turned to look at the warp core, “Do you have any thoughts as to the case? The fact that it is spread over so many systems is worrying.”

“I agree,” Aoife replied, “and no, I don’t know what to make of it. I have never seen this before.”

Jeter sighed, “Bloody hell. There goes my hope of an easy fix.” He looked around engineering before speaking again, “Part of me wonders if there is something else causing these. Could run a full systems check on the computer? Perhaps there is something there that could be setting these off.”

Aoife crossed her arms and gave him a shrug. “Many of these systems don’t have any commonality. We could do a level one diagnostic of the computer core, but I don’t think that would be wise with us entering enemy territory. Hell, I wouldn’t even do it if we weren’t at Starbase.”

“I agree with that sentiment, Ensign,” Jeter said as he toyed with a troubling idea. “We cannot risk something happening to the ship or its systems at a critical time. Let’s run a level 2 diagnostic. It won’t be as invasive but will also not run the risk of slowing the system of the ship. If we find anything, we can go from there. I can speak to the Captain and XO about this.”

“I’ll try to give you something more than, ‘I don’t know, something strange is occurring’,” she replied.  Walking out of the Chief’s office with purpose, Aoife started barking orders. “Franklin and Smith, get with the department heads. They’re about to lose all non-essential computer access.”

Franklin looked up and frowned,  “Astrometrics isn’t going to like that.”

“Mr. Jeter outranks Astrometrics,” Aoife said flatly, “if they don’t like it they can take it up with me.”

The crewman nodded,  “On it, Chief.”

Aoife scowled.  “I’m not the chief. I’m just keeping the seat warm,” she said under her breath.

Jeter let out a little snort at that before muttering under his breath, “Could have fooled me…” Watching the engineering team jump to work, he looked over at Aoife, “Keep me updated. I need to go give the Captain and XO an update on this.”

“I will, Commander,” Aoife said with a nod.

[Chief Counselor’s Office – USS Denver]

Sitting down upon a firm, yet still comfortable couch Emimi Qetax wanted to stretch out her legs but thought better of it. True, there was nobody watching but one had to be presentable at all times as a member of Starfleet. She, or rather the Qetax symbiot, was still adjusting to this level of formality even after so many years joined. Half a century in academic life had created certain expectations from their last life that continued to carry over even now that together they had passed Starfleet Academy and were now a full lieutenant.

Rising the newly promoted Chief Counselor adjusted her uniform. She knew that some other ship’s counselors prefered to wear civilian attiare once they reached the head of department level. It was, they would argue, about eliminating the signs of rank between them and their patients so that a Lieutenant Commander did not feel bad taking advice from a lowly Lieutenant. Though sympathetic to that view, and she could understand it Qetax felt that she was also an officer and worthy of the same respect that anyone on the USS Denver was given. She was not a civilian brought aboard to offer her services and while there was nothing wrong with that she had done the work of becoming an officer. 

Going to the replicator in her office, Emimi got a milk coffee (hot) to drink. She sat back down and savored the human drink. Sure there were Klingon coffees that she’d liked, and the Andorians had one that Qetax had loved in their previous life but Emimi had gotten addicted to the human variation during her Academy years of intense study on Earth. There was nothing better to give yourself a little bit of a kick in the back of the pants.

As she drank she reviewed her next appointment. An Ensign with some anxiety about space travel, it was not an unusual case. One did not realize just how many cadets did not actually think too hard about the space travel aspect of living on a starship until assigned to one. Many young men (and women) found themselves suddenly having to look out the window every day on new stars and found that disconcerting after a lifetime of stability and living in one or two places. 

This was also something that Emimi got, or at least was sympathetic too. She had wanted adventure, but that was not what her life had been about up until Starfleet and the war. Now what had meant to be a challenging and fun exploration of the galaxy was instead an all out battle. She had gone from a Counselor in a time of peace to one during war. She had to tell people how it was okay to kill other people, rather than dealing mostly with Ensigns who did not like the fact that the stars kept changing. 

One joined Starfleet and found that the mission had changed on them.

Finishing up the coffee she put it away as the Ensign came in. They sat for about fifty minutes and spoke, and Emimi Qetax did point out that things changed, including stars. This did not convince the man to be okay with it, but he seemed to understand that unpredictability of life and after getting a few relaxation tips they agreed on a time to meet next week. The next three appointments went approximately the same, no resolution because of real problems there was very rarely a sudden and dramatic moment where you solved it or cured it, but small progress and another meeting booked. 

Baby steps.

When the docked of today’s appointments was over it was time for Emimi to celebrate with another coffee and this time a sandwich of some kind of fish. It was not the best, but it would fill the void that had opened up in her stomach for a few hours until a proper dinner. Next door in the Junior Counselor’s quarters his appointment with a tall Andorian was finishing up and then Qetax entered, and chatted briefly with her junior. Most ships did not have large Counseling Departments so she was the Chief of a team of two. It was more than some ships, but certainly not enough for a population this size.

[Lounge & Quarters]

After catching up she returned to her office. Emimi then closed it up and went to the lounge to enjoy a synthalhol and dinner. A tase for Andorian ice worm that she’d picking up from Qetax on joining, and enjoyed a plate of them now. It looked disgusting, she could even admit it as she shoveled them in her moth with prongs, but they were delicious.

Being a recent transfer to the USS Denver she had no close friends. This often happened, as people were loath to befriend a therapist. So she ate alone, her worm plate, and then finishing the last wriggling one, her drink and then off to her quarters. Emimi read a few articles that had come across the Academic Wire, keeping abreast in everything that was going on with therapy and then went to bed.

The small quarters were a comfort to Yaaya Deepre.  She felt as if she could sit comfortably here forever.  She had been welcomed aboard with a glance and a nod.  She understood.  A war was on, and it had been blasting into all corners of the galaxy for the better part of a year.  She ran her fingers over the symbols of her people and planet.  Bile rose from her stomach.  She had escaped Bajor in 2359 at age twenty-five and never returned.  Her family had been appeasers to the Cardassians.  It had frustrated a young Yaaya to the point she’d begun to sympathize with rebels and separatists.  Her family had planned to sell her out to the Cardassian authorities.

The door chime sounded, and she startled out of her thoughts.  “Enter.” A crewman nervously stepped through and handed her a PADD with instructions for opening the bar and lounge.  She frowned, “The Mile High Club?”  The crewman shrugged and departed, leaving Yaaya to do a quick search on the word, which she quickly laughed and then groaned as she realized humanity’s maturity at times didn’t go past middle school.  She pushed off her bed and followed the path of the crewman.

She entered and found some crew at tables. The bar lights were off, and she smiled with some satisfaction.  She could make this her own, in her way.  She quickly went to work arranging the bottles and starting her inventory.  Some of the officers at the tables gave her an odd look or two, but she kept working with the main lights off.  She wanted to start this assignment right and hold the position as long as possible.  She didn’t want a piece of the war; she just wanted her peace.  An hour later, she had acquired what she could from operations and the quartermaster.  She stepped behind the bar and tapped the console, smiling as the lights flickered on.  A few of the crew slid into the bar seats.  She nodded to the screen behind her. The menu was up.

It was time to serve the crew of the USS Denver.

After the battle, Gus spent some time in healing meditation in front of the replicator. His body had recovered, but his mind was another story. While it was true that Vulcans had mental disciplines that allowed for greater control in most circumstances, it was far from the panacea at the moment. Changing into casual clothing, he tended to his lilac bonsai first.

Restless after caring for the rest of the plants in his quarters, Gus headed for the ship’s lounge, guitar case in hand. The night shift would start soon, and he wanted a seat by the fireplace. Holographic, of course, but the ambiance was more interesting.

Mostly fumbling around and playing short riffs, he had a mug of dark hot chocolate and enjoyed the idle banter. Finding his mind quieting the smallest amount, he added some background players, keeping it soft but lively in an attempt to make the lounge less depressing for the crew.

Jack approached, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt. “What are you playing there?”

Gus switched to something slower and softer after finishing a long riff. Easily able to talk over it now, the Vulcan offered Jack, “An ancient musical Earth form called light jazz. There is a mathematical progress to the chords and combinations of chords. Playing six and twelve-string acoustic guitars was a skill I acquired during my first enlistment in 2335. One of the field surgeons used it to keep up his dexterity. Plus, it does come in handy for passing the long hours. Do you play a musical instrument, Jack? Or perhaps have other hobbies?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, “No, not really. Played the trumpet… well, I made noise with a trumpet in junior high band. Kinda went on to sports in high school and haven’t touched an instrument since. I enjoy fishing and hunting on the holodeck.”

“Depending on how much you recall, it could be relearned. I can always use another member in the band,” Gus offered. “It has been many years since I have hunted or fished.” His head tilted as he added, “What do you hunt?”

“Did you miss the part where I just made noise with it?” Jack asked with a chuckle. “Naw, I don’t reckon you want me joining you. As far as hunting goes… well, on the holodeck, it’s whatever I want. I went after a T-Rex a few weeks back. The program reset four times before I took him down.”

“I think if I were hunting a T-rex, I’d like it to be from the inside of an autocannon platform, preferably armored,” Gus replied. “However, have you hunted large game with a revolver?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, “You’re Vulcan, aren’t you? Aren’t Vulcans vegan?”

Gus countered with, “Are all humans meat-eaters?” He added, “It is rare that I consume meat more than a few times a week, and since it’s replicated protein, I don’t consider that a true animal. There have been times, especially considering the nature of a prolonged engagement, that I might have to be more flexible in my protein choices. While I have hunted and fished, my views mirror a traditional indigenous approach. Everything possible will be used, or there is no reason to harvest the animal. Logic will also dictate that if I am hungry and the food source is clean, refusing it seems more of a moral ground.”

Looking up, Gus ran a hand through his red hair. “There are not many ginger Vulcans. At birth, there was a genetic therapy that, while curing the disease, had unintended side effects. My black hair fell out and eventually grew to its current color. That made me segregated within my own community. It’s not logical, but it’s often true.”

“Perhaps that spurred me to less traditional points of view. I don’t resist emotion. Like my Vulcan brothers and sisters, I must maintain a certain mental discipline to remain at peak efficiency. Much like your T-rex program, I find stress relief through practical shooting.”

“You have a point, though I suppose one could argue with replicators, we are all vegan regardless of our dietary habits. I feel like hunting requires some measure of mental and physical discipline. Stalking a prey, and placing a well-aimed shot is more mental than anything.”

Nodding in agreement, Gus replied, “Correct. As well as many of the same skills acquired apply to combat, security, and hunting. Being patient and prepared. Knowing as much as possible about your quarry. Complete weapon knowledge to the point of the action being taken no longer requiring thought.  Humans have acquired quite the mastery of firearms. Hunting and steel plate challenges are far harder with only pistols. Long arms always have the advantage. Rapidity and fast action are honed during practical shooting competitions and require a certain level of detachment, which I find helpful. Active kinetic concussive meditation?” Gus mused. 

“Actual kicking concussions?” Jack asked, confused. 

Gus tilted his head and actually chuckled a bit. “I have shot some firearms that would have you questioning that statement, but no, perhaps a different example.” Gus held his hand in front of himself, mimicking holding a pistol. One hand fist closed with the offhand supporting. Showing the motions his hands and arms would take swung the pistol up and on target. “Much like a phaser, except when you pull the trigger, it creates a small controlled explosion that you must help guide the projectile to the intended target—having it oriented just so. 

“Aww…” understanding dawning on him.  “Of course. Yes, there is something therapeutic about sending lead down range.”

“Conclusively. Additionally, the management of induced stress makes me focus on the task at hand. The goal is to have only the targets and firearm handling exist at that moment. Perhaps some range time should be scheduled.” Gus added.

“Perhaps,” Jack agreed.  “I may have to look into that tomorrow.”

“I would enjoy participating with you,” Gus responded genuinely. “After duty hours. 1800 hours?” Getting up, he walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of brandy from his personal stash and two brandy snifters. “It’s only an 8-year-old Vulcan brandy. It will have to suffice.” Gus poured two glasses, offered one to Jack, and set a foil-wrapped ball in front of him. I don’t enjoy this often, but I like the taste, especially with a piece of dark chocolate. Raising the glass briefly, he took a pull from the glass. Allowing the alcohol to coat his throat, Gus unwrapped the chocolate truffle and cracked the outer shell to get to the softer, dark center.  

Jack watched Gus with an amused expression, and lifted the glass, “When in Rome.”

Gus took a sip of the liquid. He allowed the brandy’s heat to warm his mouth more before swallowing. Setting the glass nearby, he picked the guitar back and started to play again.

Ensign Jack Holland eyed the targeting dummy as it erratically moved from side to side in a way no Jem’Hadar moved ever. Yet, someone at command had determined that this was a great way to keep the security division ready for conflict with the Dominion. 

Lifting his phaser rifle he sighted down the barrel.  Squeezing the trigger he waited for the dummy to move into a predictable position and fired.  Of course the dummy zigged when Jack had expected a zag and his shot went wide. Swearing he adjusted his aim, this time knocking the target right in the center of mass.

T’Val entered the shooting range with her own phaser rifle. She was a decent shot with it, having placed on the top half of the Academy, but was working on being better. Perfection may be unachievable but there had been several other cadets above her and she certainly did not think that humans should be any better than her. Sure Andorians were practically born with a phaser rifle under their arms but not humans. 

“Ensign Holland,” she nodded. He had more experience as a security officer. T’Val had thus far avoided any direct conflict with the enemy and thus her security work had mostly been dealing with Starfleet officers who had gotten into intoxicants on shore leave and had then decided to make a fuss. Of course now, with the Dominion stretching deep into Federation space not even the orbit around Vulcan was really safe.

”That second shot showed marked improvement,” she observed.

He looked at T’Val, his first reaction was to be snarky. He was still mad at himself for missing. Smiling he spoke in a good natured tone, “It was wasn’t it? Oh well, that’s what I get for anticipating a direction rather than just taking my time.”

“Sometimes we do not have the luxury of time,” T’Val said, “anticipation can be a logical skill to develop. Though that would be the human term, I would call it ’judging the percentage likelihood‘ though that is not as easy to say as the human concept.”

“Do you consider yourself a good marksman?” she asked.

“I have been told, I am” he said with a shrug with no hint of false modesty. “As a Vulcan I expect you never miss.”

T’Val shook her head, “We are not perfect. A Vulcan can display greater mental discipline and physical control but that is not the only thing. At the Academy the top marksmen were always human.”

He raised an eyebrow at her giving her a perfect Vulcan expression,  “I expect it’s specific to the individual.”

Nodding T’Val inserted a fresh battery pack in the phaser rife and took her position next to the other Ensign in the range, “It would be fascinating to run a statistical analysis on the last ten years or so of Academy range scores. I would expect that Andorian as an average score the highest with Vulcans quite high, and humans having the largest range from worst to best. That is based not on a complete data set however.”

”Humans contain the most variety, your culture allows for extremes in a way that most other species with far more rigid expectations of our young do not. How would you suppose our new allies the Romulans would do on a test?” she finished with asking. Though she had no real first hand knowledge her assumption was that Romulans were good marksmen, and liked striking unseen from distance.

“In Vulcan speak, we’re a pain in the ass,” Jack said grinning and lifted his rifle downrange and made five careless shots. Four hit their mark, the fifth going just wide.

Nodding T’Val aimed and took a shot, hitting a target, “I have heard that colorful idiom, and usually it is applied to Vulcans. Humans can often find us stubborn, and too structured. Though did you know that Ambassador Spock’s mother was a human. It is when I learned that that I understood that humans are not so easily understood as one might believe. Neither are Vulcans, I am not like my brother, though perhaps you might find us similar at first contact.”

“Your bother?” Jack asked curiously, “Should I know him?”

”There is no reason to, I was merely providing an example of two Vulcans who are quite different,” T’Val said, “Perhaps such an example was not required.”

“Or perhaps just be more specific for us dumb humans,” Jack teased as he plicked off an aerial target.

“That is not what I suggested,” T’Val objected, taking aim a second time and firing. This hit the target as well, though not as dead center as the first shot had. T’Val was careful to properly rested herself for what was next.

“No, I imagine not,” Jack said with an Infectious grin.  “I was.”

T’Val nodded but said nothing. She was feeling that he was playing with her but it was difficult to tell. Humans were that way, they often said one thing but meant another or made logical leaps that were not warranted by the statements. Things that could be quantified such as phaser blast shots hit were much easier, a simple scoring mathematic. You either made the shot or you did not.

”Query, are you attempting to be ’friendly’ with me through camaraderie or hostile? I am unable to determine,” she said lining up her next shot.

“I don’t know about all that,” Jack said rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. “I’m certainly not being hostile unless you consider self-deprecating is hostile. I know my place. Compared to you in intellect i am but a bumbling idiot.  I lack the metal discipline,  nor do I want it. I reckon I get by just fine as I am.”

“You are a security officer aboard one of the finest ships in Starfleet, you are certainly more than okay,” T’Val said calmly. Self-deprication was not something she understood that well, why hide your qualities behind a fake layer of foolishness? Where was the logic in downplaying your best qualities, it was not that just anyone would notice them, why make them work to see them.

”You are known to be clever, and clearly you are engaging in a human way. I am very Vulcan, and while that brings some advantages it also brings downsides. You can relate to a greater variety of species and tell abnormal or suspicious behaviors in a way that I cannot, all useful as security,” she said.

Jack shrugged,  “Well, you got a point.  I have learned not to argue with Vulcan  logic. You’ll lose every time.”

”Perhaps because I am speaking the truth,” T’Val said, “Logic is just an adherence to fact with the removal of emotion. I am confident you are capable of such a thing.”

Jack simply shrugged,  turned his attention back to the shooting range and fired.  He missed the target drone. He smirked at himself.  He had been careless.  Possibly even showing off to the Assistant Chief Tactical Officer.  But why? He shoved that question down. Some questions were best left unanswered. Sometimes if you go digging you won’t like the result. 

Noticing the silence coming from the other Ensign, T’Val respected it and said nothing. She focused on her shooting, hitting eight of the ten next targets dead center. When she felt she had honed her skills sufficiently she began to put away the rifle, “Will you train more, if you are nearly done we could ingest fluids together. I understand studies have shown that social interaction can aide team morale which is important to humans.”

Jack shrugged,  “I think I’m at a plateau.  There’s always a point where one no longer attains benefit from an endeavor.”

T’Val’s mouth down turned slightly as she tried to parse the answer. In the end she was just going to be direct. “So is that a yes, you would wish to injest liquids with me?”

Jack laughed,  “That’s what I get for trying to sound smart. I confuse folk. Yes, I will ‘injest liquids’ with you.”

Removing the battery pack from the phaser rifle and storing it, T’Val cleaned up after her target practice. One of the many things about Starfleet uniforms that appealed to her was that there was not need to change to alternative dress, and so she was soon ready to head to the lounge with her fellow Ensign. Selecting an unoccupied table the ordered a still room temperature water and sat with Jack.

”How do you find serving on the Denver?” she asked, trying to think of a question that a human might ask. Something casual like how he personally found an experience.

“Uh…” Jack took a sip of whiskey before continuing, “it is not what I expected when I went into the Academy. I don’t have other ships in the fleet to compare to.”

”The war has created a great change in how things are versus what we expected when in the Academy. This is not the Starfleet I joined, though it is logical to continue to serve,” T’Val agreed.

“If I’m being perfectly honest l, don’t like fighting.  I don’t like shooting… I take that back. I enjoy shooting,  just not at people.  Unfortunately it’s one of the few things I’m actually good at.”

T’Val nodded, “You are quite good at that. Still you are correct, I would anticipate given that most of Starfleet’s recruiting materials emphasize the exploration and discovery aspects of the service, that not a lot of officers are comfortable with being soldiers. Still it is logical that we fight to preserve out ways of life. Dominion by the Dominion is an unacceptable outcome.“

”Do you plan on having a long career in Starfleet or finding civilian work?” she asked.

“Funny, had you asked me that a year ago I would have said a career, no hesitation, but now, I don’t know.”

”It would be a shame for Starfleet to lose your abilities,” T’Val said, “but the war has changed the outlook on what we do. It is logical that you asses your desires at some point.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jack said flashing her a smile of modesty.   Finishing his drink he set the glass down. “Well Ma’am I suppose I should turn in for the nignt.”

“Good night Ensign,” T’Val nodded. She would see him in the future, a factor of living and working on the same ship and in the same department.

“Good night,” Jack said with a wink.

Marcus D. Ming, CO of Bravo Flight, was worried.  His wingman…Now former wingman…was in serious condition and was just transferred to Vulcan for further treatment. The Dominion projectiles that exploded in such proximity it overwhelmed the shields of Ranger three and, even more so, Knight five resulting in both ships being irradiated along with their pilots.  It was a miracle, as folks in the past liked to say, that both survived.  Their survival was an indication that the star fighters were well built, and the medical teams were top notch. 

Always worrying about his flight Ming decided to swing by sickbay to verify the process that Erickson, former Knight 5, would be going through on Vulcan with regards to the prognosis and healing process. That was how he was as a person and as a commander.  

The pilot got to sickbay and entered but he paused once inside.  Once he got his baring he made his way toward the CMO’s office to see what he could find out.   He understood that the new CMO was a Denobulan.  That made him even more curious.  Either way he’d be getting an education in about three seconds.  He paused at the entryway to the office and knocked on the door as a courtesy.  

Tavana looked up from her console and smiled at the young man standing there. “Hello. Come in!” She stood up behind her desk and motioned for him to come and sit. “I’m Dr. Tavana Malax.” Resuming her seat, she looked at him curiously. “By the looks of you, you don’t seem unwell. Though looks can be deceiving, to be sure.” She set her elbows on the desktop then proceeded to put her chin on her downturned hands. “What can I do for you?”

Ming smiled and, taking the offered seat, he said, “I’m well enough anyway. The primary reason for my visit is that I wanted to introduce myself since I haven’t had the opportunity to do so officially.  I am trying to do so with all the other department heads.  My name’s Lieutenant Marcus Ming and I am in command of the Denver’s flight of fighters.   Rumor has it you tend to use naturopathic remedies wherever possible.  If that is true then I’m even more glad to finally get a chance to meet you. Is that true Doctor?”

Tavana gave Ming a Denobulan smile. “But of course, Lieutenant. If I recall my history at Starfleet Medical, many of your Earth cultures used such techniques before more so called ‘modern’ techniques caught up. I feel that’s as important as any drug that can be synthesized.” She looked over his head and cooed at something. Chuckling, she admitted, “Some plants need a little…tenderness, I guess you could say.” She got up and walked over to a shelf where an ivy like plant was. It looked as though its leaves were waving a little in the breeze…but there was no breeze. Tavana reached up and a small vine curled around her finger. “Hello, my dear! I hope you’re doing well.” She murmured lovingly. The doctor reached up and to her right to a small glass jar of dirt and something…wriggly. Opening it with 1 hand, she pulled a few wriggly bits and put it in the pot. The whole plant seemed to implode on itself, even the vine that encircled Tavana’s finger had retreated. Grinning like a proud mama, she looked at Ming and said. “It’s an ivy type plant I found on my homeworld. Very interesting. Eats bugs like Earth’s Venus Flytrap.” 

Tavana stepped away and sat back down. “The neat thing is, the vines make a wonderful fiber for making paper or a gauze depending on how you treat it.” The doctor clasped her hands before her on the desk and regarded the Fighter Commander. “Does that answer your question, Lieutenant?” 

Ming paid attention to the doctor’s presentation with genuine interest.  When she finished and retook her seat he gave the doctor a nod of understanding and acknowledgement before saying, “Quite so.  My mother actually practiced some of the old ways passed down from generation to generation dating back to ancient Chinese practices.  Some of the homeopathic treatments were remarkably effective.  I picked up some as well as some remedies from some of the remaining Native American tribes.  It’s great for emergency treatments in the field and, at times, as good or better than some modern techniques it seems.  I know a bit…Likely just enough to be dangerous as the Earth saying goes…But I find it fascinating.”  

The doctor chuckled. “Yes, I understand that phrase well. During my time at Starfleet Medical, some Humans explained it to me in detail. I find those turns of phrase most intriguing.” She sat back again. “I’d be happy to teach you what I’ve gleaned since i was a youngling on my planet.” Tavana felt herself flit into a nostalgic moment. “I fully admit I spent many a leave on your planet in many of the different climates, entranced at the diversity of the flora.” Her shoulders shook a little before her gaze returned to Ming. “I would welcome discussions on what you know and compare notes as they say.”

Tavana stood then. “My apologies, Lieutenant. I have a nurse trying to get my attention. If you would excuse me…” She walked around her desk and bowed her head to him. “Thank you for talking with me, Lieutenant Ming. It was most stimulating.”

Ming had hoped for a few more questions but he knew and had been close to enough medical professionals to know now wasn’t the time.  The pilot stood and turned to walk with the doctor toward and past the office door.  As he did so he said with a sincere smile, “Of course doctor.  Duty calls.  Please consider this conversation … to be continued as that particular saying goes.” 

Prisoner 6655 or Ensign Charles Greene formerly of the USS Fermi sat staring at the empty torpedo casing.  He could just end it all here and now.  Poof! Gone in a cloud of an antimatter reaction.

Sighing 6655 pushed those thoughts aside.  If he didn’t build these torpedoes somebody else would and they wouldn’t know how he was sabotaging their guidance systems. Not enough to arouse suspicion,  but just enough to maybe give a Federation or Klingon ship a chance to survive… or even escape. 

6655 looked up when two new prisoners were shoved into the assembly room. One was wearing  a Starfleet uniform with a a dirty gold tunic. Much like his own.  A Lieutenant judging by the pips, and an alien species had never seen before.  The blonde woman… she was in civilian attire. No rank there or indication why she was here, but considering she looked human she was either on a starship or a political prisoner. Those never lasted long.

Looking out over the factory floor as they were led in, Xarin noted the relatively primitive conditions.  For just one second, he swore he caught the eye of one of the imprisoned Starfleet officers, but then, nobody looks up for too long in one of these camps.

“Quite the collection of misfits they have here don’t you think 2460. God I hate those numbers but better than having all my neurons set on fire by the blasted Vorta yet again.” Without stopping prisoner 8472 stepped forward and looked around. As with Xarin she noticed the glance from the Starfleet officer in the dirty gold uniform and could guess at what he thought.

Before could say anything else the Jem’Hadar guard behind her roughly shoved her forward, “Enough taking worm. Take those two empty spokes and start work. If you do not you will die, if you sabotage the torpedoes you die.” With that, he pointed to the workstation next to the ensign she had noticed earlier.

With a sigh 8472 shrugged, “If we must.” She took a step forward and the guard tapped his wrist and pain shot through her almost dropping her to the ground before it stopped abruptly.

“Let that be a lesson, next time you speak when not asked you will be in solitary for a week.”

Hands wrapped around 8472’s arms and heaved her to her feet.

“You don’t want solitary, trust me,” the arms’ voice told her. It belonged to another officer, a human woman and Lieutenant Commander in what was once a teal uniform. Whether it could be called teal now was up for debate, it was nearly as dark as the bruises on her face, some of which were badly covered by her long purple hair. The woman regarded 8472 for a moment with large grey-green eyes.

She turned and look at the women who lifted her up and gave her a quick nod in thank.

“Get to work,” Greene hissed from his station, “before they shock all of us.”

Shuffling quickly over to the designated workstation, Xarin scoffed internally at the torpedo design.  Modifications for efficiency immediately formed in his brain. Not that he intended to use any of these modifications, but it was good practice for any engineer, even a downed one, to be always looking for improvements.  In the relatively dim surroundings, his eyes revealed to him more than most would see.  For example, the fact that the Jem’Hadar on duty’s uniform was just as dusty as the prisoner’s, or the fact that there were only two Jem’Hadar in the room.  Admittedly, both were armed to the teeth.

“Whatever it is you are planning sir… Don’t. The Jem’Hadar have wiped out whole shifts because one person sabotaged a torpedo.” Greene warned.  Who am I to lecture them on not doing something that I am currently doing? He asked himself as he adjusted to the targeting sensor.

“You mean like you’re doing to that panel?” Xarin whispered in an almost creepily quiet undertone. “You’d be more effective if you moved the third pin to the left by three micrometres.”

Greene adjusted the targeting sensor further out of alignment.  “I guess if it doesn’t work we’ll all be dead and we won’t care.”

The purple-haired woman watched with interest from an adjacent workspace. Not being an engineer herself she didn’t know how to effectively sabotage the torpedoes, so class was currently in session. Prisoner 3436 or ‘Lavender’ as she was known outside the Jem’Hadar penal system observed them furtively, taking notes. ‘Third pin to the left, three micrometers.’ Given the circumstances this was probably the best form of protest, acting out just got her thrown in solitary, and with less teeth than she had had before.

The base shook with a deep rumble like thunder. The guards glanced at each other and rushed out of the room leaving the prisoners to their own devices. The base shook again.  This time from the unmistakable sound of directed energy fire.

Thinking quickly, Xarin dumped the contents of the torpedo he was working on onto the floor.  “You can use the torpedo casings as cover.” He didn’t exactly look at the others when he said this, just prepped what he could for survivability.  After getting the casing ready, he tipped the table over before attempting to lug the casing over to the rear of the table.

Lavender scanned the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Nothing popped up. The tools used were small and intricate for the most part and the Jem’hadar were brutal but not stupid. Still, she hoped they could capitalise on the chaos. Attacking a penal colony was more a Federation move than Klingon in her mind, so there was a good chance the attacking ships would beam out any Federation species once the shield was down. The Commander in Lavender tried to balance any future punishment if the attack were to be unsuccessful with the potential opportunities of the now to shatter the status quo, but the ganger in her took over. It was now or never. Lavender brandished a tool with a thin, sharp probe on the end like a shiv and took stock. The room shook again, releasing bits of dust and debris onto the inmates.

“Quick, help him! And take cover!” She ordered the others at the table, darting under an adjacent table and watching the doors for Jem’Hadar, her eyes wild with adrenaline.

Having gotten help setting up the barrier, Xarin then began gathering the tools together, as well as any baseball or softball-sized chunks of the cave that he could find.  “Here’s the plan, when the Jem’Hadar come back through that door, we make sure he doesn’t live to regret it.  Once one Jem’Hadar goes down, we’ll at least be armed.”  Meanwhile, the room shook with even more vigor.  One of the untouched tables in the back fell over, spilling the torpedo and its components to the ground.   “Now, a few years ago, I served on a ship with a plucky young fella.  He taught me about a rather dangerous Earth game that we’re going to try out.  Any of you ever play dodgeball?”

“Dodgeball?  Against a Jem’Hadar? Have you gone completely insane?” Green demanded.

“One thing I’ve learned from humans.  Most games can be quite deadly if a rock gets involved.” Xarin smiles, and, seeing a Jem’Hadar entering the door, chucks a baseball-sized piece of rock at him and nailed the Jem’Hadar’s forehead.  “That’s one.”

Lavender understood what the Kratoan had been driving at as the barrier started to make shape and she helped lugging casings into place. The first Jem’Hadar hit the deck and Lavender couldn’t help but appreciate a couple of really good ideas he had had. The second Jem’Hadar guard who entered was pelted with stones and whatever the prisoners could find and was quickly unconscious. Even if whatever attack was going on didn’t liberate the prisoners if they could keep the approaching Jem’Hadar to a trickle maybe they could wrest control at least of that area of the prison.

“Quick grab their weapons before more come,” said the blonde prisoner. “They will lock down these rooms pretty quick so we need to move out of there.”

Greene couldn’t believe what was going on. They were all going to die. He knew it.  Sighing he took a piece of a torpedo casing and flexing the thin metal over the edge of the work bench he moved it up and down until it snapped free creating a crude knife. “We’ll, if you people are going to get me killed I might as well die fighting.”

[USS Denver— Cargo Bay 3]

Part of being in security was often having to do what amounted to grunt work. The uninteresting physical labor of the starship that had to be taken care of. Though it typically fell to Operations, an officer in the lower decks of Security was seen as a useful multi-purpose tool. Often ending up moving supplies around. In orbit above a major Federation colony restocking the ship had been, if not a priority then an opportunity. T’Val was carrying boxes of batteries from where they were being transported to where they’d be stored until they were needed-in phasers, pulse rifles, tricorders, and all manner of other small portable electronic devices.

”Are you sure you can handle that?” a fellow Ensign asked.

”Yes,” was the simple answer as she hoisted the crate and set it on her shoulder for stability. Moving it off the transporter pad that was used for cargo (as opposed to the PADDs used for personnel in another part of the ship), she carried it over to a growing pile of stock that the ship was saving. It was more than they usually stocked but few knew what the future held and in combat the batteries were depleted quicker. It was logical to assume they may not get to restock for awhile.

”Is this pile not getting too high?” she asked studying it.

An Operations officer who was in charge shook his head. “It’s fine.”

T’Val was unconvinced. One did not argue with a senior officer even if they were just a Junior Grade Lieutenant. On her third trip back however, the pile of crated shifted and a box placed on the upper column of the stack tipped and fell. The Vulcan raised her hands and arms to protect her head and then saw black.

[USS Denver-Sickbay] 

=^=Acknowledged. On our way.=^= Tavana tapped her comm badge to end the connection. 

She pulled the Tricorder off her desk and zipped into what she called “Sickbay Proper.” Scanning the room, she spotted the biobed she needed. “Nurse Joffrey, Crewman Huracán, please accompany me to Cargo Bay 3.” She called simply. All needed in tow, Tavana led the way.

[USS Denver— Cargo Bay 3]

With long strides that cut the distance once the doors slid open, Tavana had her Tricorder out and extended to scan before the nurse and crewman were even a third of the way to the patient.

Tavana squatted next to the patient, eyes bouncing between the instrument and the woman. She gave a decisive nod and put the Tricorder back on her belt. She let out a small relieved smile and settled back into her squat. Looking up, she locked her gaze on the Ops officer with an expression that was anything but affable.

“Why weren’t you using anti-grav equipment to lift those crates, Lieutenant?” She held up her right hand just as the nurse put a hypo spray in it, eyes not leaving his.

“Uh…uh…uh, sorry Doctor,” he stammered, “I didn’t think-”

“Exactly!” She bit back as she finished administering the pain reliever. “You…didn’t…THINK!” The words were punctuated by a finger suddenly tapping hard into the man’s chest from a now standing Denobulan doctor. “Luckily for you, Lieutenant,” the sneer could be heard for kilos. “She only sustained minor injuries, but she’ll have a killer headache to take away from your supervision.”  Tavana made air quotes on that one word. Spinning away, the doctor handed the nurse the hypo and nodded to Huracán to approach with the bed.

Once the young Vulcan was safely aboard, she motioned for her people to precede her with their charge. Tavana walked behind a few steps then stopped, turning to face the officer and his unfortunate crew. “Now, if you Ever find yourself in charge again, I hope whatever deity you pray to gives you brains to remember SAFETY!” 

Before an answer could be given, she disappeared behind the swishing doors.

[USS Denver – Medical Bay]

The Vulcan opened her eyes. Looking up from the medical bed she recognized the form of Medical Bay and realized that she must have been brought in. The last thing she recalled was a crate looming down on her. As a test she wiggled her toes in her Starfleet issue uniform boots. They wiggled. As did her other limbs, no obvious nerve damage.

Headache. She sat up and felt dizzy, and so laid back down. 

“Well, hello there,” whispered Tavana. She waved the Tricorder slowly over the young lieutenant’s head, a regular humanoid smile on her face. “Yes Ensign T ’Val, getting up would be a very bad idea. I suggest you stay with us for now.” She retracted the instrument and put it on her belt. “I’m Dr. Tavana Malax.”

Waving fingers appeared between the doctor and her patient, causing the doctor to raise an almost Vulcan-like eyebrow and turn her head. “Yeeeeaaaassss, Nurse Brady?” The doctor drew out, smile widening fondly.

A blond capped head slid in beside the fingers, along with the rest of a blue and black uniformed body. “Uh, hi Dr. Malax. Dr. Lorsa said she needs a consult on her Andorian foot case.” Nurse Brady swung her arms behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels as she spoke.

Tavana chuckled softly and nodded. “Ah yes, Andorians. Incredible beings those.” Once more, Tavana smiled at T’Val. “ You should be ready to go in say-” she looked up and called for the time from the Ship’s computer. Upon finding out it was almost 1600, she turned back and continued. “Half an hour, maybe?” She then nodded twice and left the young Vulcan with Nurse Brady.

The Vulcan laid back and did not resist. Some enforced relaxation, even if it was in the ship’s medical bay, was a logical result of an accident that had caused her to black out. Clearly she had suffered some cranial trauma, and while she was not trained in medicine she knew enough that not even Vulcans were really tricked skin enough to shake off head trauma easily. Medicine progressed and treatment along with diagnosis was quite a bit more robust than it had once been. Still one did not simply shake off a head injury.

 “I am Assistant Chief Security Officer Ensign T’Val,” she introduced herself since this was her first time formally greeting any of the medical staff. As the Assistant Chief she did not attend senior staff meetings, thus had not properly met any of the senior crew beyond her own Security Chief. She added, “I believe I am suffering from cranial trauma, and feel dizzy and sharp pain. I can manage the pain but I can not perform further duties with vertigo.” 

Nurse Brady yelled for Tavana when T’Val explained her symptoms. The Denobulan ran to the Vulcan’s bed, grabbing the tricorder out of her pocket. A quick scan and toss of the instrument to the Brady, the doctor called out “Get me hypos of Meloxicam and Melorazine. 10cc’s each!” The hypos were handed off to her open side and she pressed them into the woman’s neck. “Don’t manage anything, Ensign. I’ve got you.” 

Tavana nodded when she was handed the neurocortical monitor. Looking over at the biofunction monitor, she frowned a moment then relaxed. She looked at the slightly groggy Vulcan and remarked. “You have a concussion, my dear. You’re going to be fine.” She smiled. “I want to give you a test of number repetition in about 10 minutes. We need to make sure it’s nothing serious.” 

It was logical then, with the diagnosis of a concussion, to wait the allotted time advices by the doctor. Though Vulcans could withstand more than a human, T’Val knew that her operating at prime efficiency was important, not just for regular duties but if they did actually come across the Dominion either on Vulcan or somewhere else. So without any further argument she submitted to the doctor’s orders and did not try to (as humans may have put it) ‘be a hero’. 

“Doctor, may I ask a personal question? I know we just met but I do not wish to discuss a situation in my own department and I do not really know anyone else onboard as of yet” T’Val asked, “Did your family approve of you joining Starfleet, it would seem to run contrary to your role of a doctor at least at a time of war.”

The doctor’s head snapped up at the question. “Well, personal has many layers to it, Ensign,” she advised. “But in this case, I see that you do not need to peel so many back!” She chuckled. As she set up a PADD, she answered somewhat thoughtfully. “Well…my family wasn’t actually surprised at my desire to enter Starfleet. Considering I was one to do things my own way irregardless of what others thought I should do, it was as you Vulcans say ‘only logical’ I do so.”

The doctor turned back to T’Val and helped her sit on the bed. Handing her the PADD, Tavana continued. “As for being a doctor in war, that isn’t as easy. My family worries for me, but has known that is one of the possibilities of being in Starfleet. We must do what is needed at any point in time.”

The Denobulan cleared her throat and pointed to what the Vulcan held. “A series of numbers will show on the screen for 5 seconds. Once they are gone, you are to repeat them back to me. We will do this 5 times. After this, I will determine your status to return to work.” Tavana gave a wry smile. “Of course, you will not be reporting to who had been. That one needs to relearn safety protocols, so he will be at a duty station for a while.” With a snort of distaste, she shook her head. “We’ll get that sorted out after we do this.” She pointed to the PADD. “Begin, Ensign.”

The Vulcan nodded, a mental test seemed logical. Normally she should not have any issue with this, but perhaps the head trauma was worse than she had realized. Briefly she wondered if anyone ever replied with something other than numbers, such as claiming the number ’4’ was in fact ‘cake’. For now she seat such frivolity from her head and watched the numbers for the allotted five times before recalling them to the doctor.

”Six, two, four, nine, seventeen, twenty-six, and four again,” she said, feeling that this was correct.

Tavana nodded her approval and took the PADD from her hands. “Yes, that’s better, Ensign.” The doctor suddenly remembered the Vulcan desire for logic and added. “This is to check for any disparities in your cognitive functions. It confirms there are no further impairments from your concussion.” 

Tavana walked away for a moment, taking the PADD with her. Returning, she asked “Ensign, would you like to be released to your duties? I can see no need for you to linger here.” Suddenly, her demeanor changed to one of displeasure. “Actually Ensign, let me check on something first. Stay here.” Once more, Tavana left her patient. Hitting her comm badge, she called out. “Doctor Malax to Ops. I need to speak to the Chief Officer.”

Jeter was making his rounds through the lower decks of the Denver when his combadge chimed, tapping it without hesitation he answered, “Jeters, what do you need?”

The doctor grimaced slightly then spoke calmly. “My apologies for the interruption of your duties Chief, but I have a concern about one of your officers. It seems he wasn’t very…observant about those under his…’command’ so to speak. I have an Ensign T’Val here who was the beneficiary of his inattention. Fortunately, she isn’t too worse for wear. It is my Medical opinion you look into reassigning both these officers.” She glanced at T’Val and nodded. “I would like to suggest a commendation and/or rise in rank specifically, as she’s more capable than the one she was assigned to.” Tavana let a sigh slide from her nose. “I will forward you my report, as well as the ensign’s of the situation.” The doctor held the PADD out to the Vulcan with a curt nod.

The Vulcan security officer was quiet. She was not sure if it was needed to assign all the blame to the Operations officer, but for the moment she did not argue. While it was statistically more likely that an incident would occur using the methodology that had been employed, there was nothing without risk and she had seemingly come through it without much incident in the end.

The calling of her section chief Jeters was a surprise. She did not say anything for the moment, trying to think of how to proceed since she had been the one to get boxes dropped on her head. For now it seemed that the best idea was to remain silent.

“Really? That is not the news I want to hear.” Jeter said over the comm, “Well, the concerns anyway. Always happy to hear about someone being capable. I will review the reports as soon as you send them over as well as the commendations. Thanks for bringing this to my attention Doctor. If anything else comes up please let me know. Jeter out.”

The doctor looked at the Vulcan and nodded when the Chief cut the connection. “Show me your report when you’re finished, Ensign.” She gave the young woman a pointed look. “Leave nothing out.” Without waiting for an answer, Tavana turned away and walked briskly to her office. She waved off medical staff as she went, a look of determination on her face.

T’Val nodded, and with the elapsed waiting time finishing she rose, “Thank you Doctor.”

She would make sure that the Doctor saw a copy of her report, though she was not usually on the list of officers who recieved a copy. She was not sure this all warranted the attention it was getting, but she would defer to more senior officers in this case.

When she got the report from Ensign T’Val, Tavana nodded with a smile. She was thorough, the doctor would give her that. She set the PADD down and drummed her fingers on the desk. She hoped she helped the girl.  Shaking her head, she got up and went to check on other patients.

Rebecca cradled her coffee in her hands, staring intently at the viewscreen.  Her legs were crossed and by all outward appearances, she was the picture of calm and collected. But, on the inside she was a tempest of emotions.  Too many things could go wrong.

“The engines are still operating just like a Nyberian freighter,” Aoife McKenzie announced from engineering, a touch of pride in her voice. Not only did she mimic the typical warp signatures of those ships, she even had them emit random fluctuations indicative of the poor maintenance seen across many civilian ships.

“Still, Ms. Jones, let’s keep out of sight of the camp until we can strike.”

“Aye Sir. “Dropping to one-quarter impulse. If they do spot us, we want to fly casually.” Arin commented.

Riandri watched the viewscreen as the Denver made its way towards the prison colony without showing any expression. She knew the plan and was aware of all the possible issues that could arise. Glancing down at the console before her send rechecked the modifications to the engines and smiled seeing that everything was as it was meant to be.

Lieutenant Emimi Qetax was nervous, she was not a fighter and there was tension on the bridge. Granted, it was unlikely that there was going to be an actual physical fight that she was involved in, but even the hint of tensions got her in a bundle of knots. She glanced at the Captain but kept herself quiet, this was not the time for anything she had to say. If anyone needed her, they’d call on the Chief Counselor. For now she’s quiet.

Sickbay…

Commander Cheon Kyo stood in the sterile confines of the USS Denver’s sickbay, his tall, athletic frame a stark contrast to the clinical surroundings. He was there for what felt like an eternity, enduring the incessant hum of medical equipment and the occasional hushed conversation between the ship’s medical staff. As the Executive Officer of the Federation starship, he knew that his duty was on the bridge, overseeing the ship’s operations and ensuring the safety of the crew.

Kyo’s dark eyes were fixed on the medical officer who had been attending to him, a compassionate and capable Doctor, Tavana Malax.

“Doctor, I do believe that my time is up here,” the XO stated as he looked into her eyes.

The doctor nodded with her characteristic smile. “Yes Commander, you’re right.” She scanned him with her tricorder as she spoke. Putting it away, her smile became a smirk. “Do us a favor then and get the Hell out of my Sickbay and back on the Bridge.” She even made a shooing motion at him. “No disrespect, I assure you.” Tavana amended.

Cheon had become a master of concealing his true emotions over the years, when his anxiety would threaten to spill out. As he left sickbay, the forced smile remained plastered on his face, concealing the turmoil within. The sterile corridors of the starship provided a stark contrast to the chaos he felt inside.

His anxiety, a constant companion, began to gnaw at him as soon as the automatic doors sealed shut behind him. It was the result of years spent on the front lines of space exploration, facing dangers that most people couldn’t even fathom. Cheon had seen things that haunted his dreams and had lost friends he could never forget. But he couldn’t let anyone see his vulnerability. Not now, not ever.

He continued down the corridor, his posture straight, his footsteps measured. Crewmembers passed him by, oblivious to the storm raging behind his calm facade. He knew he had to keep up the act, for the sake of his crew and the mission. ‘There is no room for weakness out here in the vast, unforgiving reaches of space,’ he thought to himself as he walked the corridors.

Cheon’s thoughts raced, his heart pounded, but his exterior remained cool and collected. He knew that one slip, one moment of weakness, could jeopardize not only his own well-being but also the trust and confidence his fellow crewmembers had in him.

Cheon’s fake laugh lingered in his mind even as he stepped into the lift on his way to the bridge. The momentary relief from the facade in the sterile corridor had been fleeting, and he knew that he needed to put on a show once again as soon as the lift doors opened.

As the lift ascended, he allowed himself a brief respite, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. The quiet hum of the lift offered a brief reprieve from the anxiety that had been building since his exit from Sickbay. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm the racing thoughts and the pounding of his heart.

But all too soon, the lift came to a smooth stop, and the doors slid open to reveal the Denver’s bridge. The transition from the enclosed lift to the open, bustling command center was jarring. The bridge crew, focused and efficient, went about their duties. Displays flickered with data, and the low murmur of conversation filled the air.

Cheon stepped out of the lift, instantly assuming his role as the composed and confident commander. He couldn’t let his anxiety show here, where leadership was paramount. He straightened his uniform, took a deep breath, and walked purposefully to his command station.

With each step, he buried his apprehension deeper, locking it behind the same mask he’d been wearing for years. He knew that the crew looked to him for guidance and assurance, and he couldn’t let them down. As he settled into his chair and began to issue orders and make decisions, his exterior remained steadfast, concealing the turmoil that churned beneath the surface.

Bridge…

“The prison camp is coming into range,” an ensign at operations announced as the Denver barreled down on the lifeless planet that the POW camp was located on. 

“Fire!” Rebecca ordered.

Conroy nodded as he targeted the POW camp; he needed to make sure he did so without harming the prisoners. “Torpedoes away “ma’am” The first barrage had little to no effect.  He signaled for one of his tactical officers to come beside him. ”I need to you to run an analyst on their shield harmonics while I tweak the phasers. After a few seconds he started forward phaser fire. He looked over at the ensign to see him shake his head. Conroy grunted as he increased the power to phasers, “I am going to try to overload their shield generators. We need to break through without destroying the entire base.” After a small recalibration, he began to fire again.

“That had had a positive effect, their shields are weakening sir.” The ensign announced.

“Good,” He showed the ensign the recalibrated harmonics. I need you to rotate through these frequencies and 3-second intervals. He looked up over his counsel at the view screen, then back down, “ma’am I am going to need a better shot, I am sending over an analyst now.” He sent the data over to her.

“Helm bring us about,” Rebecca ordered.“Aye Sir. New course, one two zero, mark eleven.” Arin said.

Conroy was focused on his readings awaiting the Denver to come about into position, “remember 3 second intervals!”

“Yes sir,” the young officer replied.

The Denver was now in range, and in a better position, “Start now ensign!” He said as he released a hail of phaser fire, “What are the readings saying?”

“We’re effective, it appears to be working.”

“Change the intervals to 2, and 1 quarter second.” He said as he increased the phaser fire.”

“Shields down sir,”

Conroy quickly targeted the bases auxiliary power supply, and communication array with torpedoes, “torpedoes away!” He paused for a moment reading the data, “shield, and communications are down ma’am, power ha been temporarily affected I wouldn’t bet on the lights being off for too long ma’am”

“Good shooting Mr. Conroy,” Rebecca said flashing the tactical officer a smile. “Cheon assemble your team. Take a shuttle over to the base. I don’t want to risk beaming over until we control the base.”Commander Cheon sat in his designated spot on the bridge, a place that had once felt like a second home to him. His eyes were fixed on the starry expanse beyond the viewports, but his mind was adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Over the last few months, a subtle yet undeniable shift had taken place within him. The once-clear path of his duties as a XO had become muddled and obscured. He couldn’t put his finger on a single defining moment or event, but a growing sense of unease had settled in the pit of his stomach.

As he glanced at the captain seated beside him, he couldn’t help but wonder if others on the bridge shared his concerns. Have they noticed the same undercurrent of change? Or was he alone in his uncertainty?

The bridge, typically a place of precision and purpose, now felt like a place of questions without answers. The instruments and displays that once provided him with a reassuring sense of control now seemed to mock his growing doubts.

Cheon thought back to his early days in the role, the thrill of serving on a starship, the camaraderie of his team, and the clear objectives of their missions. But lately, the objectives have become fuzzier, the missions less straightforward. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being led into unfamiliar territory, both figuratively and literally.

His duties, once a well-defined set of responsibilities, had morphed into a nebulous web of uncertainties. He wondered if his training and expertise were still relevant, or if the ship’s evolving mission required a different approach—one he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

Yet, despite the doubt that gnawed at him, Cheon couldn’t deny the palpable sense of duty that still burned within him. The desire to protect the ship, the crew, and the principles they stood for remained strong, even if the means to do so had become less clear.

For now, he continues to fulfill his duties to the best of his abilities, his expertise still an invaluable asset to the crew. But deep within, he knew that he needed answers and clarity about the changes he sensed. Whether it meant seeking guidance from the captain or delving into the ship’s evolving mission, Cheon was determined to uncover the truth behind the shifting tides that had unsettled his once-unwavering commitment.

Commander Cheon’s moment of introspection was interrupted by the commanding voice of the captain. Her call snapped him out of his reverie, and he swiftly turned his attention toward her. Her eyes met his, and the gravity of her expression left no room for doubt.

“Aye, Captain,” Cheon replied, his voice steady and resolute. He pushed himself up from his chair and made his way toward the lift. His footsteps were measured and purposeful, a reflection of his training and discipline.

That was also Arin’s cue to get up from the helm. Ensign Monica Jackson was already prepared to take her place. 

As he reached the lift, he instinctively tapped his combadge to communicate with his team. “Ensign T’Val, Lieutenant Commander Nalam, Lieutenant Mercy and Dr. Malax, please report to the shuttle bay,” he announced, ensuring that his orders would be heard by the designated crew members. The tone of his voice conveyed a sense of urgency and determination, echoing the captain’s unspoken message.

With the communication delivered, Cheon tapped his badge once more, severing his connection to the ship’s intercom. The bridge, once a place of uncertainty and contemplation, had now been transformed into a space of decisive action.

The lift doors closed behind him, enclosing Cheon in a momentary solitude as it descended. Inside, he took a deep breath, his thoughts shifting from introspection to the imminent task at hand. Whatever had been troubling him, he knew that duty and responsibility still called him to action, and he was determined to face it head-on, just as he had been trained to do throughout his career in Starfleet.

Riandri stepped onto the lift beside Cheon just before it closed, “You all set Commander? It’s good to have you back.” As she spoke the lift speed towards the shuttle bay and whatever the fates planned for them.

Ensign T’Val waited patiently for the others to assemble at the shuttle bay. She was passive and calm. The unknown was neither scary nor worth worrying about, rather they were skilled and capable, better to simply react to what they found then worry themselves emotionally without anyway of learning more.

Sickbay

“Acknowledged. On my way” Tavana answered and cut the connection with a quick tap on her chest. She set the PADD down she’d been studying and rushed out of her seat. She called out instructions to her staff as she grabbed a tricorder and a basic med kit. Slinging the kit over her shoulder, she made her way out of Sickbay and into the shuttle bay everyone had gathered in.

Shuttle Bay

Tavana rushed through the doors, dark eyes scanning the bay. Her peripheral’s found the group gathering around one of the shuttles, she made long, purposeful strides towards it. She nodded and smiled at each of those gathered, standing to one side of them. When she found Commander Kyo, she eyed him carefully. Something in his demeanor caught her as concerning but she couldn’t pin down why. Time would tell she was sure.

Runabout

Though she was already in flight gear, Arin had to swing by the armory to draw her load-bearing gear and phaser.  Reaching the shuttle bay, she headed for the runabout. A shuttle might be able to do more things in tighter spaces, but this wasn’t going to be a time for finesse. The ship had been refitted with a standard personnel interior. Arin had heard it was possible to cram forty-plus people into one. Entering the side, she quickly headed for the cockpit and started her pre-flight. 

Shuttle bay

Cheon’s gaze swept over the team members gathered in the briefing room, each of them seasoned professionals with their own unique skills and backgrounds. He knew the gravity of the mission at hand; lives depended on their success, and he couldn’t afford to let his own anxieties interfere.

With deliberate calm, he began the briefing. “Listen up, everyone,” he started, his voice firm and authoritative. He made a point to establish eye contact with each team member, his gaze finally resting on Riandri. He hoped that his steely exterior concealed any trace of unease or apprehension about the mission.

“Our mission is clear,” Cheon continued, outlining the details. “We’re going in to secure the POW camp, extract any prisoners, and neutralize any threats. The intel suggests that there might be high-value assets inside, so we need to be prepared for anything.”

He went on to describe the layout of the camp, potential opposition, and the roles each team member would play. Cheon emphasized teamwork and precision, underlining the importance of everyone working together seamlessly to minimize risks.

“As always,” he concluded, “safety is our top priority. We’re professionals, and we’ll get this done. Trust in your training, trust in each other, and let’s bring those prisoners home.”

With a final nod, Cheon signaled the end of the briefing. He knew that the mission was fraught with danger, but he also knew that he had a team of capable individuals who could handle it. As the team members dispersed to make final preparations, Cheon took a moment to gather his thoughts, steeling himself for the challenges that lay ahead.

Cockpit of the Runabout

Cheon found his way into the co-pilot’s seat, his eyes shifting to Arin, who was already in the pilot’s chair. He offered her a reassuring smile, his earlier anxiety now strangely dissipating as if it had never existed in the first place.

“You ready, Lieutenant?” he asked, his voice carrying a newfound confidence that had replaced the uncertainty he’d felt earlier. The coolness that enveloped him was a welcome change, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the source of this sudden transformation. 

Arin replied, “Sir, yes, sir.” She said with a slight nervous chuckle. 

As Cheon settled into the co-pilot’s seat and looked at Arin, the question of his sudden calmness gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Was it the familiarity of heading into a prisoner camp, his past experiences providing a strange sense of reassurance? Or was it something else entirely, a mysterious shift in his emotions that defied explanation?

He pondered these possibilities, trying to dissect the source of this newfound serenity, but it remained elusive. The answers seemed to slip through his grasp, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. Realizing that he couldn’t dwell on it at this moment, he chose to push the thought aside, planning to revisit it later when the mission was behind them.

With a firm resolve, Cheon turned his attention to the task at hand, knowing that their primary objective was to secure the prisoners and complete the mission successfully. The mysterious calmness would have to wait for another time, perhaps when the immediate danger had passed. 

When the flight check was finished, and the runabout hummed, awaiting command to action, Arin turned to Cheon. “Let’s just say I am eager to even the odds, so if I can be there when the Jem’Hadar get whacked with a shillelagh. Sir, I’m on board with the mission 100% and more. Plus, I really love flying this big beefy gal.”

Riandri looked round at the others and nodded to Cheon before glancing back at the others, “Try not to destroy every computer you find if possible. There won’t be a treasure trove of intel but anything could help.”

Arin’s hands and eyes checked systems. She had the console set to visual and tactile inputs. Now ready, she tapped the console. “Bridge this is the Rappahannock. Permission to embark on this mission of chaos and mercy.” Her brain thinks of the history of the tribe that inspired the name. Can’t scalp a Jem’Hadar she chuckled to herself.  

Tavana settled herself into her seat after stowing her equipment. Despite her calm exterior, her emotions were mixed.  She thought of her dear Malax and their love for one another, as well as her family. She closed her eyes a moment and sighed. ‘Another mission, another day,’ she thought silently as she listened to the pilots chatter.

Ming still struggled with the lost Battle of Betazed.  His flight came home, his ship made it out, and he even helped shepherd five other fighters to a safe haven…. two to the Denver, and the other three docked with another starship that survived to escape the decidedly lopsided battle.  Of the seven pilots that got back to the Denver, two suffered radiation poisoning thanks to the Dominion firing off a bunch of projectiles to end up being used like depth charges during some of Earth’s naval battles. He had no idea if it was intentional or dumb luck.   

While he knew it was unfair, he still felt that Starfleet’s intelligence agency and its top brass dropped the ball, to put it very, very diplomatically.  Eventually, he’d chalk it up to honest human error. Now wasn’t that time, though.  He was hurt and heartbroken that two pilots he knew well were to be transferred to Vulcan shortly after arrival for medical recovery.  Three more were dead and that didn’t count the Tucson crewmates that were also gone among the many, many others lost in an offensive that was going to be so horribly lopsided.  It was the most horrific engagement he’d taken part in, and this was far from the first lost battle he’d been a part of.   

He figured a quiet drink would allow him to sort it all out.  He was on drink three and it was just getting more annoying.  He decided that he would call it quits after the next drink since it wasn’t going anywhere.  He wanted company but he wasn’t quite sure who to hit up with the rest of the crew being still rather new to him.  He sighed and stared at the whiskey on the rocks on the bar in front of him, contemplating things as he did so. 

Arin walked in, still in duty uniform. Seeing Ming, she met up and took a seat near him without asking. The server met her there. “Two 600 ml mugs of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee in glass 700ml mugs. Brown sugar, and some heavy cream, not that spray can bollocks. Don’t forget the spoon this time and I let ya watch. Ach, get a glass for yourself if ya want one.” She said, placing an old ceramic jug on the table as she winked at the server. 

Turning to Ming, she nudged his arm with hers. “I’m not usually one to tell a man what to drink. Well, that’s a lie,” Arin said, chuckling lightly. She saw he was a few drinks in and couldn’t blame him. She knew a few of them. Not well but still comrades. She decided to try and switch his gears. The server returned with a tray. Three mugs, two as specified and one more normal coffee cup. When she looked up to comment, the server interrupted her, saying, “I’ve had to toast all night.” Arin smiled, but said, “Ach, take one for the team ya wallflower.” But she smiled and he melted and smiled back.  She added the sugar to the mugs and poured the hot coffee, stirring until the sugar dissolved. Adding a shot of whiskey to each, she faced the spoon so the cream poured smoothly down the curved spoon’s back.

When the server left, she offered the steaming mug to Ming. “This jug is older than all of us put together. That was including that babe in the woods server. You’re pissed. We all are. Get drunk, whatever. My idea is to plan worthy of a surprise or… something. Plan to punch them right in the bloody face.” 

Ming started to say something but stopped short with a smile and a bit of a snort.  He said, “Reinforced coffee.  A favorite of George Armstrong Custer. We sure as hell did a nice job of impersonating the 7th Cav at Little Bighorn…..”

He finished the little bit of whiskey he had left in his glass and eyed the woman for another moment with a smile, “An idea to pop ’em right in the kisser, huh?  I’d like to hear it.  I want to run something by you first, if I may.” 

Marcus touched a finger to the mug of fortified coffee in front of him and said still sporting a grin, “Consider it the price of admission.” 

Smelling the mixture of warm coffee, alcohol, and other notes from the 75-year-old jug,  the sweet cream. lifting the mug she took a tentative sip. It was almost too hot. Taking another pull, Arin set the mug down as the mix of chemicals started to take the edge off of the day just a bit. “Well, you certainly haven’t been a cheap date yet.” She said in a deadpan tone. Cracking a slight smile she added.  “Color me interested. My people on both sides are well known for well-intended treason.” 

Ming took a sip of the fortified coffee in front of him and nodded approvingly.  He said, “Not the worst I’ve had by far.  I’m….Still trying to mull over the debacle we ran into at Betazed.  Ares…Or Néit must really be pissed at us right now for some reason.  Oversights and miscalculations aside, that was too expensive.  I’m still mourning the loss of the Denver, with most of the crew I knew being dead along with the ship.  Two of my flight mates from the Rangers made it home with us.    My replacement, whom I didn’t know, died with my former bunk mate and flight commander.”

The Knight’s flight leader paused as he reburied some resurfacing intense grief. After a moment, he said, “Despite all that, one thing really stood out.  Two Dominion cruisers fired a barrage of torpedoes at us.  They didn’t manage a direct hit on any of us however, they detonated in damned close proximity to Ranger 3 and Knight 5.  Shockwaves and radiation managed to get through the shields of both fighters due to the close range.”

Marcus looked at Arin and after another heartbeat said, “Similar to depth charges in 20th and 21st century ocean warfare, instead of underwater shockwaves breaking the hull of a submarine these damned near destroyed two fighters.  I can’t figure out if that was by design or a damned lucky near-miss.  I’m tempted to bring this to our intel officer but am unsure if it’s worth it.”

Arin thought for a second, taking another pull on her Irish coffee. “It’s worth a look. Could be coincidence, or just as you said, blind luck. We will be far from the only sideline lookie-loos.” She stopped cold. A devious smile came over her face. “ Have you ever heard of an EMP bomb?” Arin asked.

“A relatively simple device. You take a core of explosive. Wrap a copper coil around the charge. Tie in capacitors to the coil. It charges the coil. As the explosion occurs, the charge in the coil ramps up to the end. Take a simple charge of C4. It makes a lightning strike look like someone rubbed their feet on the carpet. I bet we could configure a few torpedoes or even build a few mines.”

“I’ve heard of EMPs of course.  I have never thought of nor researched how to make them besides knowing it’s a side effect of certain nuclear bombs.  The mechanics are something I’ve never gotten around to learning about.  The results of them are quite straightforward, however.   That could very well be an interesting weapon to have in our arsenal,” Marcus said musingly.  

He still looked thoughtful as he paused to take a sip of the fortified coffee.  He wasn’t into coffee at all unlike many (if not most) but this version was better than tolerable.  The extra kicker helped as well.  

Ming tilted his head and added with a bit of a smile, “Might be worth looking into a spaceborne version of a Faraday cage as well assuming it’s even possible.  If we come up with something like this so can the other powers.  It’d be a bitch if we come up with this thing only to have the Dominion get something similar through espionage or, less likely, parallel development.  Never helps to develop the antidote to the poison after all.”

“Who do you think we should include in this little operation?” Arin asked. 

Ming thought for a second before replying, “Engineering and Tactical I would think as a starting point. That’d be…Commander Riolta and Lieutenant Conroy if I remember the names correctly.   If they like the idea and agree about the feasibility, I’d say that our illustrious Intel officer for a final check-off before we bring in Captain Talon to move it forward with the appropriate channels.   That’d be how I’d play this anyhow.”

“I can easily write up a proposal, though we could call them in and offer so encouragement.” Arin said, returning to her mug. The mix of sugar and brandy was starting to have the desire effect as more of her melted away.  

Ming took another sip of the alcohol enriched coffee and noticed that he was going a bit slower than his companion. He didn’t mind at all.  He liked the company, and she proposed a potentially pivotal concept.   

He said, “True.  They may add valuable feedback along the way.  The more department heads that sign off on it the better it’d look.  Especially, in this case, the Chief Engineer and the senior tactical officers.  At this point I’m unsure if my endorsement would be a huge assistance but I’m game.” 

Aoife entered the lounge her expression long and weary from a long day. Without a Chief Engineer and short-handed as well, Aoife was finding she was doing the work of two, sometimes three or four engineers. 

She quickly scanned the room for an empty table and walked across the lounge and selected a quiet table on the back wall away from the viewing ports and everyone.

Seeing the new arrival, Arin offered. “Well look what just dropped in, would ya?” Getting up, she had the server bring her a mug of coffee, pouring the shot in a glass from the special jug to the side. Arin took the tray over. Setting the two items down in front of Aoife, Arin gently nodded in acknowledgment. “Depending on whether you are still on duty or not.” Arin gently smiled. 

Aoife looked up, “Technically I am off duty, but with as short staffed as we are in engineering I am never truly off,” she said taking the coffee. “What can I do for you?”

“This is special. Also a gift. A nice belt of something older than we are. The coffee is optional. I canna say I have the purest intentions, but the Lieutenant idea would like to prepare an appropriate thank-you to the Jem’Hadar for the welcome we received.” Arin said. 

“Which is?” Aoife asked with a raised eyebrow.

Looking around, she spotted someone with several padds. Something she never understood since it was a LCARS device and could store files locally. “Can I borrow one of these?” She asked.  When they agreed, she quickly pulled up files about EMP bombs and went over their idea of turning a few torpedoes into a special warhead. “ Have you ever heard of an EMP bomb?” Arin asked, repeating what she said to Marcus as she waved him over.

“A relatively simple device. You take a core of high explosive. Wrap a copper coil around the charge. Tie in capacitors to the coil. It charges the coil. As the explosion occurs, the charge in the coil ramps up to the end. It makes a lightning strike look like someone rubbed their feet on the carpet. You must admit that even a normal photon torpedo at 64 megatons and upgraded would make a nice big firecracker. We are hoping the idea has merit. Maybe a small version for the ground-pounders.” 

“Denver’s critical systems are protected from EMP. What makes you think the Dominion won’t have the same protections in place? And if you are wanting to mess with their toys wouldn’t a duenetic field be more effective?”

Arin countered. “True. Our systems are protected from normal levels of EMP, but I get your point. Why I always research a few things with bigger brains.”

“However, I believe I can rig an EMP grenade.  I don’t know what it will do to their shrouds or poloran weapons. They may have sacrificed EMP protections for energy saving,  weight, and limitations on space.  I honestly don’t know much about Dominion technology.”   

Arin smiled a bit deviously. “Which, of course, begs a launcher. I could see an upgraded infantry isomagnetic disintegrator as well. ”

Marcus listened to the conversation as it went on between Arin and Aoife. He didn’t have any direct contributions to the conversation quite yet but was ready to jump in when there was one to be offered.  He had known it might be kind of a proverbial sticky wicket but if there was a work around to be had it would be something he’d love to see.  

Aoife shrugged,  “This could all be for naught,  and I expect they will adapt quickly.”

Arin just grinned. “Remind me to get you a copy of ‘Murphy’s laws of combat’. If it’s stupid, but it works, it wasn’t stupid. Right along with ‘no plan of action survives contact with the enemy’.”

“Before we start building launchers you probably should have a grenade first.  Even thrown they would offer a tactical advantage against close quarters fighting. But, like I said, they will adapt quickly.  The Dominion isn’t stupid. Once they figure out we’re using them they will adapt and EMP is relatively easy to shield.”

Now that the coffee had cooled as they talked, it allowed Arin to finish the rest of the mug. “Believe me, the last thing I would do is not believe the enemy is better, faster, smarter, and all that. I’m just trying to shake things up. It only has to work once. The infantry weapons are a great idea since buildings and other places they may be using for support could be infinitely more vulnerable to the EMP. Not every hidey hole will be hardened against that form of radiation.”  

Aoife shrugged, “Come by engineering tomorrow morning and we can go over some designs. I believe you have a training holodeck for the Recon teams. You can test the system out there before we finalize the design.”

Ming nodded as Arin spoke then again for Aoife gaining a bit of a grin as the latter spoke.  It was a grin he directed toward Arin as he knew that was the immediate goal she was hoping for.  He was genuinely glad.  

Standing Aoife nodded, “Thanks for the coffee.”  

“You are welcome. I will meet you in Engineering as planned.” Turning she smiled at Marcus.

Marcus grinned and said, “Very nice to meet you Ensign McKenzie.  I’m quite interested in seeing the end result of this meeting.  Realizing that it’s a crap shoot but I hope it comes up 7s or 11s.”

Aoife didn’t get the reference,  but simply nodded.  “See you tomorrow.”

With that Aoife walked out of the lounge. “Well, productive meeting in the lounge. Love it. Though it time for a refill.” Arin said. 

Ming chuckled and said, “It was and I concur on the refill front.”

U.S.S. Denver Security Complex

As he reviewed a pad, Conroy sipped his water and listened to one of his security officers give their report. It had been a hectic day, with a lot going on and even more throughout the day. He thought about the away team and having a QRF team prepared for anything if needed. He could tell the tension in the room. Everyone awaited good news from the surface or at least some way to help. “Thank you, crewman,” he said, acknowledging the end of the young man’s report. “We will not be returning to our normal watch until after all crew are back aboard; I will be personally working with some of you on phaser and combat training. Alpha tact team, I need you to monitor communications and long-range sensors. If they’re talking or flying, I want to know about it. Beta team, your priority is the away team communications.”

“We are on extended duty shifts until further notice?”

“Uh…” Conroy shifted in his chair and sat forward, “that would be correct. I want you to look to your direct line for guidance. we will try to rotate you guys off for breaks, but for now, we will merge shifts until further notice.” Conroy stood and finished his water. He turned to face the rest of the security officers still sitting. “I need you all to be on point and stay at your designated posts.”

The turbo-lift doors opened as he gathered his thoughts, and a crewman walked out. He paused momentarily as if he had walked in at the wrong time, “you’re okay, carry on, crewman.” At that moment, he lost his train of thought.

“Supervisor, I need that list of those who need training after this meeting. Holodeck three has been reserved for security; we want to rotate throughout the day. Any questions?” He paused for anyone to speak briefly, “Alright, let’s get to it?”

Deck 11 Cargo Bay 2

The doors to the cargo bay opened, and two security officers walked in; the lights came on, and they looked around. One officer checked around while the other grabbed a pad and examined the logs. He yawned and laid the place down. “I can’t wait until the end of my shift.”

The other officer chuckled, “Yeah, my bed is calling me!” They both laughed and continued their walkthrough. One of the officers quickly slipped, grabbed one of the containers, and pulled himself up. He looked down and saw blood. He quickly drew his phaser, “OVER HERE,” he shouted to the other officer, who also ran over. The container wasn’t sealed. He tapped his communicator. “Richards to security central, we have an issue in cargo bay 2.

Richards nodded, looked back at his partner, and began to open the container. When he looked inside, he quickly put his phaser away, grabbed his tricorder, and began to scan, “She’s alive.” He tapped his COMM badge again, “Richards to sickbay; we need a medic in cargo bay 2.” The two then entirely removed the lid removed the young ensign, and laid her on the floor; kneeling beside her, they began to apply pressure to her wound. The other officer began to look inside the container for anything important. His communicator was missing and nowhere to be seen.

“Check around the bay for anything else,” Richards said to the other officers.

The cargo bay doors opened again, and a Conroy entered with three other security officers. “Report.” He said as the other officers began to scan the area.

“There was blood here on the floor. We found her in the container; she is breathing but barely.”

Conroy walked over to her and glanced down, “Shit,” he muttered as he pressed his communicator, “Conroy to sickbay emergency site to site transport one to beam… energize.” The ensign vanished, and Richards stood back up and faced his chief. “Conroy to Bridge.” As he awaited a reply, he looked at the officer beside him, “Lock this deck down; let security central know we have an issue for all personnel to stand by and await further orders.

“What’s going on, Mr. Conroy?” The captain asked.

“We have an assault in cargo bay 2.”

“I trust you know what to do. I am dispatching medical to your location.”

“Acknowledged, ma’am; I recommend we go to yellow alert and enact enhanced security protocols.”

“Sir, over here.”

He rushed over to see a box with wires attached to a conduit. The panel had been pried open. “

“Secure this area; get the investigator and engineering here ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer said.

He turned and walked out of the bay into the turbo lift. “bridge,” he called out. The doors closed and reopened moments later.

Rebecca was standing over the shoulder of an ensign sitting at operations. Turning to face the security chief, “Report.”

“Security patrol found an officer, unconscious but alive, inside cargo bay 2.” He said while approaching the tactical station and entering some information. “Deck 11 is on lockdown; an investigation team has been dispatched.” He paused as he began to access communication logs. “There appears to be no unauthorized communication; we did find a damaged panel in the cargo bay. No sensitive systems, but an unknown tech was positively identified. I have requested assistance from engineering.”

Turbolift Deck 11

Security investigator Xara took a confident step forward as the turbo-lift doors opened; she looked around as security officers and engineering technicians scrambled about. She had an eerie feeling and felt a dim atmosphere in the corridor as she walked towards the cargo bay. Her mission was twofold: to investigate the apparent assault of one of her fellow crew and the suspected sabotage of critical systems.

Xara adjusted her uniform and pressed her communicator, “CPO Xara to security, I have arrived at cargo bay two; I am beginning my investigation,” she announced.

“Copy that, chief,” came the reply from LT(JG) Reyes, who was currently at the watch desk. “Proceed with caution; we need this resolved swiftly.”

Xara nodded; she knew the threat was real, and time was of the essence. She approached cargo bay 2; she noticed a flickering overhead light that cast a spooky shadow that danced on the metallic walls. The cargo bay doors slide open with a hiss, revealing a chaotic scene. She began her investigation meticulously examining the bay for signs of a struggle and tampering outside of what was already reported. She found traces of a scuffle near the rear containers, indicating a violent confrontation had taken place there. She collected evidence in hopes of identifying the assailant. As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. All of these were ominous signs of potential trouble brewing.

The better part of an hour had passed since she had arrived in the cargo bay; with the evidence she had collected and the interviews with the officers who found the scene, she had enough to piece together a preliminary report. The evidence pointed to an inside job. Someone with knowledge of ship systems and a possible understanding of sensitive cargo. “Computer, locate the CoS.” The computer chimed and, after a moment, informed her that he was in his office. Xara looked around one last time and collected her things.

Security Complex

At the security complex, CPO Xara entered Lieutenant Conroy’s office carrying a stack of data pads containing her findings. The office was filled with screens displaying data feeds from across the ship. The room was dimly lit, but the fluorescent lights from the screen were bright. Lieutenant Conroy was sitting behind his desk, and Lieutenant Reyes, the shift watch officer, stood nearby reviewing reports.

Xara saluted, placed the data pads on the desk, and stepped back. “Sir, I’ve complied preliminary reports regarding the incident in the cargo bay.

Conroy nodded and motioned for her to continue. “Please, investigator, share your findings.”

She cleared her throat and then began to outline the essential details of her investigation so far. Lieutenant Conroy and Reyes listened intently while reviewing the data on the pads.

“I see the entry logs for cargo bay 2 were still intact. There is no mention of a suspected assailant.” Reyes said, cutting her off.”

“Yes, sir, I cannot explain that now.”

Conroy leaned forward, concern and distress in his eyes. He quickly looked over at Reyes.

“Sir, you don’t think…”

“I’m not sure,” he said, cutting him off, “but this is troubling and without proper explanation. We won’t start making assumptions.” He paused and stood; thank you, chief, keep me updated on your progress. Lt, I need you to implement enhanced protocols immediately. Run a background check on anyone accessing that cargo bay in the last 4 hours. Chief, I will require you to interview them when complete.” He handed the chief a data pad and adjusted his uniform as he walked around his desk and exited his office.

Corridor outside Sickbay

Hours after the cargo hold incident, the Denver remains on high alert and has yet to identify a suspect. He had theories but not specific enough to bring to the captain. He had just left the ward, killing two birds with one stone. He had a tremendous headache and checked the victim. The victim was identified as the newly assigned engineering officer, Ens. Britt。 She is a maintenance technician assigned to deck 11. She may be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He leaned against the corridor wall and watched several crew members walk by.

Chris has been staying up too long and juggling too many tasks simultaneously. He rubbed his head while holding up the data board to review the investigator’s notes again. Just as he turned and started walking toward the turbo-lift, his communicator started chirping, and he gently pressed it as he continued walking, “Conroy,” he roared. There was a brief pause, and then he heard the voice of one of his security guards.

“Sir, there is urgent news from the engineering department; please come to the engineering laboratory.”

“Admit it; let them know I’m on my way. Chris entered the elevator and instructed it to do the work. After a while, the door slid open, and he walked out and toward the lab. He walked in and looked around. Several engineers were performing their duties, and he looked at the central rear of the room, where an older man with gray hair and silver stripes on the sides was working on the device. He took off his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He approached the man and announced his arrival.

“Ah, great, here you are.”

“Then me, what can you do to find me?”

“Not, that’s the problem.”

The device, a metal box, was opened to reveal what appeared to be a glass ball with many wires protruding from its top and sides. There are flashing lights and orange glowing cores. A soft humming sound from the sphere can be heard. Chris leaned over and took a closer look.

“I guess it’s not a standard Starfleet issue,” the technician said in a humorous tone. “The device is hidden behind a container in the cargo hold. It is already connected to the ship system, which is non-critical.

“Which systems were compromised?”

“Automatic container loaders, cargo hold force fields, local communications.”

“Communication is not unimportant,” Conroy said as he stood back to face the man.

“Well, not extensive communications, but these are smaller systems. He is used to communicating with localized computer systems in the cargo hold. It has its power supply in the back,” he said, pointing to the triangular structure between the spheres and the bottom back wall of the box where it sits.

“How long will it take for you to complete the analysis?”

“I have completed the preliminary analysis; all that remains is to deconstruct it and see what there is …”

The lighting of the sphere increased, and the lights in the laboratory began to flicker. The technician picks up a scanner hardwired into the box and begins introducing the shutdown commands. “It’s not working!” he growled before severing the power supply. The lights and sounds disappeared, “I think that might have done it.”

“Until you can tell me more about this, I want it under close watch and no access to ship systems. I will have a security officer posted down here until further notice. He pressed his comm badge, “Lt. Reyes, meet me in the cargo bay.” He turned to the tech, “Send any relevant information to me immediately.” Chris turned and exited the lab.

Prisoner 6655 stared stupefied at the Jem’Hadar pistol in his hand.  He woke up this morning a man without hope. A literal dead man walking.  He had been technically alive as 6655, but he wasn’t living. Now, he had a weapon. The body of a Jem’Hadar guard lying at his feet with an improvised knife made from a torpedo casing embedded in his neck. 

Greene was surprised at how peaceful and innocent the Jem’Hadar looked in death. Alive they were always full of malice. An unmitigated threat that at any time could make you beg for mercy or snuff your life out. Now, he could see the child that had become the man. An innocence ripped from his being too by the Founders just as his had been.  The Jem’Hadar wasn’t his enemy.

“I am Ensign Charles Greene,” he announced to the corpse. “And I forgive you Eight Zek’Xor.”

“Very big of you, Ensign Charles Greene.” The voice was sarcastic and laden with a little malice of its own. It belonged to prisoner 3436, a pale, slight woman with black and purple hair currently rather messed up from beatings and solitary. She was armed with a tool brandished like a shiv, having passed the Jem’Hadar rifles so-far liberated to security personnel. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Xarin gestured with his pistol, his uniform torn and blackened in a few areas. “If I remember correctly, the way we came in was from over here.  Perhaps we could backtrack, attempt to steal a small craft of some sorts.”  Having said that, he fell into a coughing fit. “Sorry, dust everywhere, you know?”

“No, I don’t, ” Charles replied. “Are you okay sir?”

“I will be once we get out of here.” He coughed again, “As much as my people can operate on land, we much prefer an environment that is more… liquid.”

“Sir, let’s get out of here before you start worrying about baths…” There was a pause,  “The shooting has stopped.”

“Though the thief of a small vessel would be good, I would not feel right not taking this chance to help others escape,” came the voice from the crowd as a blonde woman, prisoner 8472, stepped forward with a cold and serious smile on her face. “This facility was clearly attacked, which means the Federation, Klingons or Romulans arrived and I cannot see any of them abandoning prisoners.”

“Romulans?” Greene asked in surprise. “I thought they had a non-aggression pact with the Dominion?”

She reached down and picked up a heavy crowbar-like tool used to attach the outer shell of the torpedos in place, “Not any longer, just after Betazed fell the Dominion killed one of their senators so the Romulans jumped in on our side. Their opening act gave the Dominion hell.” Prisoner 8472 looked around and then nodded towards Greene and 3436, “I made sure I got to see the base whenever they dragged me to solitary and such. The facility relies on keeping us separate more than anything to control us. There are not a large number of Jem’Hadar or Vorta here from what I have been able to determine.” 

“No I don’t think there are,” 3436 agreed. “If we’re going to surprise them and gain control of the facility now is the time while they’re distracted.  Then whatever this is we’re all free. So arm yourselves if you’re not already and let’s move! People with rifles in the front, unless that bothers you or give the rifle to someone who’s ok with it. I can be someone who’s ok with it. And for pity’s sake, people at the back watch our six. Let’s go!”

Greene nodded, “I’m not okay with it, but considering this is life or death… I’ll have to be.”

Almost immediately, a figure appeared in the doorway, firing on the group.  One of the prisoners was struck, dissolving into ash, but Xarin paid him no mind, returning fire with the pistol.  If they didn’t either get out of here or take control quickly, that’d be all of them.

Runabout Rappahannock…

Tavana got out of the runabout and looked around and nodded decisively. She grinned at Cheon and said “I’m going to look around for a good spot to set up triage.” Her grin broadened. “I might even get some samples of local flora to study!” she announced. She walked away without waiting for an answer.

When she found a big enough tree a little ways from the craft, Tavana took off her comm badge and threw it to the ground. Crushing it with her foot, she frowned. “I won’t need this anymore.” She tossed the tricorder into the trees and threw her med kit in another direction. Tavana walked away from the area, her heart in her throat. ‘Forgive me Malax. It’s necessary.’ she asked silently.

The Denobulan toed off her boot and pulled a strange instrument from it. After putting the boot back on, she tapped on the instrument.

==Gul Devek, I’m here at the Rendezvous Point.==

==Acknowledged. Be ready to receive.==

==As you ask, so shall I do Gul.==

As the connection was cut, she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing up and down. Suddenly, there was a tell-tale shimmer and a Cardassian materialized before her.

“Report Denobulan.” he told her tersely.

“Yessir.” she replied and told him what was required.

Away Team…

Cheon watched intently as the doctor walked away, her resolute steps leaving tracks in the dusty, barren soil. Her determination was evident in every stride. He couldn’t help but shake his head in response to Tavana’s stated intentions.

The planet they found themselves on seemed desolate, a seemingly lifeless world of arid landscapes and desolation stretching as far as the eye could see. The barren terrain was punctuated only by jagged rock formations and the occasional gusts of wind that kicked up tiny clouds of reddish-brown dust. It was a far cry from the lush, vibrant worlds they had explored in the past.

But Cheon knew that appearances could be deceiving. He had learned over the years that even in the most desolate of places, there can be hidden treasures or valuable knowledge waiting to be uncovered. And so, he couldn’t help but entertain the idea that there might be more to discover here.

Despite his reservations, he respected Tavana’s determination and expertise. As the doctor ventured further into the unknown, Cheon allowed her the freedom to wander, knowing that her keen scientific eye might find something of importance amidst the apparent desolation. The crew’s safety and the potential rewards of their journey hung in the balance, and only time would reveal what secrets this enigmatic planet held.

Riandri watched the doctor wander off to collect samples before glancing at the XO and others, ‘Hmm, interesting…’ As she did she checked her rifle and pulled out her PADD to check the layout of the prison. She turned to look out at the surrounding area and set to work. She stopped as her PADD flickered, the link to the Denver vanished and a crackling filled the air as a localized planetary shield snapped into existence above them. She glanced up and then back to the rest of the away team, “That should have happened. The signal from the Denver has been cut off.”

Cheon’s focus was on the task at hand, reloading his rifle with a fresh power cell, when he heard Riandri’s voice. He looked up and moved over to where she stood, glancing down at the PADD she held. As he read the information on the screen, a sense of urgency washed over him.

His hand snapped up to his combadge, and he urgently stated, “Away Team to Denver.” But all that came back was an eerie silence mixed with static, a clear sign that something was amiss.

A determined and resolute look crossed his face as he turned to Riandri. “This just got interesting,” he remarked, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and readiness. Cheon knew that they were facing an unforeseen challenge, and he was prepared to face it head-on, with the safety of his team and the success of their mission in the balance.

The away team was led into the base without incident.  The corridors were empty and guards not present. The only sound was the eery Dominion klaxon. Cheon nodded to Riandri and they took a corridor down the left with their weapons at the ready.

Riandri was relaxed as she made her way through the corridor, the prison based on its size shouldn’t have too many guards and the lack of encounters only reinforced her knowledge. Looking at her tricorder she ran through several quick scans, as she pinged the local computers. “They know we are here so no point being shy. Let’s see if I can get anything.”

Further down the corridor…

The group of prisoners had grown considerably as veritable who’s who of Alpha and Beta Quadrant species.  There were even a handful of Cardassian political prisoners. Most of the prisoners were armed with improvised weapons being brandished as crude clubs.

Encounters with the Dominion forces were few and far between just as prisoner 8472 had predicted.  They pushed down a corridor.  Greene,  Xarin, and 8472 in the lead.  Hearing footsteps coming from an intersecting corridor Greene motioned for everyone to stop and raised his weapon. As they came into view Greene swore.

Standing before them was a small group of heavily armed Jem’Hadar soldiers and a Vorta. “Shoot them!” prisoner 8473 shouted as she raised her newly acquired rifle and fired just missing the Vorta and taking one of the soldiers square in the face. The shot caught them off guard but the soldiers quickly raised their rifles and took aim.

There’s no denying it, the Jem’Hadar are fast shooters.  Xarin was faster.  He got off a shot right as the Vorta finished saying them.  What the Jem’Hadar beat Xarin in was accuracy.  Right after his shot missed the Vorta, one of the Jem’Hadar’s shots nailed him in the shoulder.

Greene swore, and hit the Jem’Hadar. Grabbing Xarin by his uniform he drug him out of the direct line of fire and ripped open Xarin’s uniform to reveal the wound.  “Hold still!” He snapped as he unzipped his uniform jacket to reveal a marginally cleaner under dicky. Using a stolen Jem’Hadar knife he cut strips of cloth.  Shoving a wad of mustard cloth onto the wound he wrapped the strips around it holding it in place. “Their weapons have an anticoagulant agent in them. This won’t stop bleeding until we get you to a medical facility.”

Though the prisoners had some captured-range weapons they were still few and they started to fall back under the concentrated fire of the Jem’Hadar. 8472 took another shot as she ducked behind a support beam and just missed her target. She watched as several of the soldiers looked towards her, their rifles coming to bear. ‘Wasn’t how I thought I would go Ja….,’ she thought but was interrupted when phaser fire erupted from behind the Jem’Hadar cutting them down where they stood, exposed in the hallway. As they fell she could see a small group of familiar Federation officers move forward checking the side passages as they approached the fallen soldiers and prisoners.

She let out a laugh and stepped forward. “About bloody time,” but stopped as an all too familiar face looked back at her and phasers were trained onto her.

Xarin was in pain.  He’d been burned a number of times over his career, but this one felt different. Did I get hit by the faulty plasma conduit on the Benimaru again?  He opened his eyes, still somewhat blurry from pain and the flash.  He was not on the Benimaru, he was at that Jem’Hadar camp.  He looked up just in time to see the Starfleet reinforcements entering the room.  “Hey 8472, your twin made it.” He managed to wheeze out.

She looked over at Xarin and then back toward the officers from the Denver. “I don’t have a twin,” she growled and slowly raised her hands letting the captured rifle call to the floor. “Cheon, glad to see you though I am sorry to report that you seem to have an imposter in your midst.” 

Greene swore as he raised his captured weapon on Riandri, “A goddamned Changeling!”

Ming had finished talking with Chief Xellath and the news was decent if not good.  Two Peregrines had been offloaded on Vulcan for repair and refit before being reassigned to other pilot / weaps teams.  The two that remained had been his and the man standing with him.  The repair of the Valkyries was done or nearly done with completion being done within the next couple of days.   

An old friend and member of his former flight was now part of the Knights.  Ming sat in his chair and Ensign Abeo Abara sat across from him in one of the three rather comfortable office chairs he’d wrangled up.  He got one that was slightly bigger than the other two but otherwise matched.  Dark stained oak and chocolate faux leather and all were padded.  His was the same material but it was the biggest of the four even if all were comfortably padded.  

The big man across from him was a number of imperial inches taller than Ming (just about 187 cm vs Ming’s 170 cm), had dark black skin, brown eyes, shaved head and built more like a boxer than pilot.  He also had a voice like a bass with an accent somewhere between Ming’s Standard Basic and Arin’s Irish brogue. Like Ming he was also from New Berlin, Luna.  While Ming was a little bit older it was by less than seven Earth Standard months.  

“Alright, to business.  In about 12 seconds you’ll be officially meeting our XO.  She’s heading this way now,” Ming said with a slight smile that spread to his eyes as he stood.  Ens. Abara followed suit and turned sideways coming to attention.  The Knight’s commander managed to keep a straight face as his old friend’s eyes blinked three times in rapid succession which his friend recognized as surprise.  About four seconds later Knight two entered the office.

“You called boss?” The Andorian pilot asked as she approached. 

Ming smiled again appreciating the directness and terminology used.  He said, “Yes I did.  I appreciate the promptness.   Before we take a seat I would like to introduce you both officially.  Abara, I’d like to officially introduce you to Lieutenant Esessa Sh’ivhohlol.  As XO her word is law….next to mine of course.”

He paused for what amounted to less than a heartbeat and continued, “Sh’iv, I’d like to present Abeo Abara.  Mr. Abara is going to take over the title of Knight 5 and my primary wingman as Erikson will be planet-side indefinitely while he recovers from the radiation exposure from that series of torpedo bursts on the retreat from Betazed.     If his voice is familiar it is because he was on Ranger Flight.  He seemed the best option since we few together on my last assignment.”

“Welcome to our little gang of misfits,” Sh’iv greeted hee antennae twitching she she acknowledged Abrara.

Abeo’s bass heavy voice filled the office conversationally as he said, “T’is very nice to meet ya Lieutenant.   I truly look forward to flying wit you as a member of the squadron.” 

“Likewise,” Sh’iv replied with a grin.

“This big oaf and I grew up not far from each other funny enough.  We weren’t close friends until we happened to land on the USS Tucson and Ranger Flight.  It’s been a wild ride since then but we’re still flying,” Ming said exchanging grins with his friend.   

The CO added, “It was kind of a tradition on the Rangers for new pilots to have a Q&A with the flight leadership before the formal introductions to the flight.  I know most of what there is to know but I figured it’d be appropriate, in that tradition, for you to ask anything you felt relevant before the general population got a chance.”

Sh’iv stood to the side letting this play out.  She may have been Ming’s XO, but it was his show, and not her place to direct the attention upon herself. 

Ming and Abara waited a moment before the Knight’s commander smiled.  He said, “This is mainly for your benefit Sh’iv.  I’m already aware of Druid’s personal history, career history and flight style.  As mentioned, we have known each other quite a while and flew together as part of Ranger Flight.  Being old friends and flight mates we managed to catch up a bit while we were heading back to Vulcan to regroup as a battle group.  As they say the floor is yours….”  

“For what sir?” She asked her hands clasped behind her back. “You Pink-skins like to talk.  We prefer to let our actions speak for themselves.” 

Abara’s deep voice carried over into his chuckle before he said, “I t’ink I can see the reason she’s your XO Lunatic. To the point and not one to pull punches if my guess is correct.” 

Ming grinned again and nodded.  He was about to respond when Órlaith came to the door and knocked.  Shrugging mentally Ming said, “Come on in.”

“Lieutenant,  the Chief wanted me to tell you Knight 3 is going to be down for the rest of the day for software upgrades,” Órlaith said looking at the assemblage of officers present.

Marcus sighed and said to his protégé, “Understood.  I’ll pass the word to McPherson in a little bit.  Since you’re here….Órlaith Murphy, I’d like to introduce you to Ensign Abeo Abara who’ll be taking over Knight 5 since Erickson is on an indefinite medical leave.   Druid, this is Miss Órlaith Murphy.  I’ve taken her on as my protégé and she’s working on the flight line as a start to her training.”     

Abara did another blinking que which actually amused Ming.  He hadn’t seen his old friend surprised twice in such short order in quite a long while.  As usual the other man did a nice job covering as he said, “T’is very nice to meet ya Miss Murphy.  Marcus is a good man to learn from I’ve found over the years.”  

Órlaith smirked, “So I am discovering.  Welcome to the fold.”

Ming and Abara exchanged a look before the newly arrived pilot returned his focus to the younger lady and said in his slightly accented bass, “Thank you.  I’m glad to be a part of this flight now even if the circumstances leading up to it.”  

The Knight’s commander said, “Unfortunately, changing the past isn’t usually an option.  Changing the future is. Now that you’re here let’s see where we can take things.  That said let’s reconvene with the whole flight in an hour for the formal introduction to the group.  I’ll be including members of the flight crew as well.  Miss Murphy…I am going to shanghai you for that as well.  Consider it another facet of your education.”

“Sir? Shanghai? I am unfamiliar with that particular colloquialism.”

Ming smiled and explained, “Traditionally it means to force someone to join a ship lacking a full crew by either drugging them or using other dubious means.   The later usages mean to use trickery or else to coerce someone into either going somewhere or else do something.  In this case, my most excellent protégé, it’s an order to be there for the meeting.” 

The Knight CO kept his tone light and amiable for the whole explanation however the last sentence was a polite order with an undertone of command.  Ming saw no point to being anything but courteous given the situation.  He did want her there, however.  The increased exposure for her to general operations was an integral part to his plan for her early training. 

Órlaith nodded. “Very well.  What should I do to prepare?”

“Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth closed, Ms. Murphy,” Sh’iv said. “You aren’t an officer and are here solely at the discretion of Lieutenant Ming and Captain Talon.” What Sh’iv didn’t add was that had she been in command, this blonde criminal would be in prison, not serving on this ship. She killed her brother and was a member of the rest of her murderous family.

The two men exchanged glances without comment before Ming returned his attention to Órlaith.  He said in a tone that came out more friend than commanding officer, “Just come ready to observe, Órlaith.  This is going to be as informal as formal so you won’t have to take notes unless you wish to do so.  You can bring any questions you may have to me after the fact unless something gets asked of you during the meeting.  In the meantime, I’ll catch up with you and Abara individually a bit before the meeting.”

After a brief pause, he continued, keeping his voice light, “You’re both dismissed for now.  Please stay for a moment Lt. Sh’ivhohlol.  There’s another matter we need to discuss.”

Sh’iv was heading for the door when Ming beckoned her back. She gave Abara a curt nod before returning to stand before Ming with her hands behind her back. “Yes sir?”

Marcus waited a moment to ensure that the doorway was clear before he focused back on his executive officer. After a moment he said, “That was an interesting reaction to the young woman who was specifically put under my charge by the captain of this ship.   You’re not prone to random actions like that without reason based on our acquaintance so far.  If there is an issue, which there appears to be, I need to know and I would very much like to know specifically why.”

Sh’iv snapped to attention assuming this was a dressing down, “I apologize sir. My opinions are my own, and it isn’t my place to question your decisions.  I shall endeavor to keep my feelings less transparent.”  Her face was placid as she stared straight ahead, gaze fixed on a shadow on the far wall.  Her antennae the only thing betraying her emotionless exterior.

Ming sighed.  He read his XO’s cues and it wasn’t what he’d meant to get across. He said, “At ease, XO.  You’re not in trouble.”

He paused briefly and closed the office door.  He turned to look at the Andorian and said, “I’m likely not supposed to share this information but I am convinced you are now needing to know.  This information is not to leave this office unless I give the nod otherwise.”

Sh’ve relaxed into parade rest, “Not to leave this office. Understood sir.”

“Órlaith’s parents were monsters in human form.  Evil isn’t even a beginning.  However, she was put under my charge after Captain Talon’s grant of clemency and the new identity she now has.  Quite frankly she double crossed her own parents.  Normally I’d have issue with this but considering the people we are discussing it was a kindness to two different universes,” Ming explained.   

He continued, “She cited, quite convincingly, her disdain for her parent’s history of brutality and aims to continue that as being the reason for her actions.  She approached me on the shindig after the battle with the forces belonging to the alternate universe she’s from.  I agreed based on those points plus one or two other extremely convincing factors. There might be doubts for some that she may or may not do the same to the Federation.  I can say with absolute and definite certainty that will not consciously be the case with her.”

The Knight’s CO paused then allowing his XO to mull over what he had just said.  He waited to see how she reacted.

“Sir..” She started carefully, “I am well aware of her history, and that is precisely why I don’t trust her. People like her parents are opportunists. We have a saying on Andoria,” She’s an ice crystal from the same glacier.  I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”

Ming mulled over his next words very carefully.  As of right now four people were aware of this information.  His parents, his best friend since childhood, and T’kown who had stumbled upon it on accident and wouldn’t have in the first place had Vulcans lacked telepathic abilities. 

With a sigh he said, “She does not have any ulterior motives or plans to betray us.  I know this for good reason. Reason I know is because of something that only four people in the known universe are party to.  It’s been kept a privileged bit of personal information for very good reason and telling you is likely the one way I can convince you she’s much more of an asset than risk.  I mean other than the fact she’s going along with being a grease monkey and Xellath has complimented her work more than once…. And that is rare for most Tellarites I have met including him. “He paused saying, “I trust you with this information and will accept your word of it staying between us if it is given. I’ve always been keen to keep this one under wraps, but I am thinking disclosing it to you is necessary given the circumstances.”

Sh’iv shrugged, “It is not my place to divulge classified information or secrets.”

“Starfleet doesn’t usually test for Esper ratings like they used to.  That said when I was young my parents had me tested…I was one of the highest rates the doctor had ever seen or even heard of.  It’s not something I can control and it shows up sporadically at best.  Telepathic species have an easier time connecting with me than most other humans with weaker or no abilities.  I can sometimes pick up extremely intense thoughts / feelings which is what has happened most often. Premonitions are even less common.  To use an older human saying all this happens once in a blue moon meaning not often at all,” Ming confessed.

He took a deep breath before he continued, “I worked with a Vulcan friend as a child to develop my abilities which did not help very much.  I do regularly employ some of the shielding techniques he taught me however to avoid unintentional incidents as well.   They, like intentional uses of this ability, are less effective that they might otherwise be.  That’s how I know of Órlaith’s intentions.  She was thinking very loudly at one point and made them quite clear when we shook on the matter. While it’s possible it was subterfuge most other humans are bad at shielding real thoughts let alone making false ones more readable.  I’ve run into that circumstance exactly once and it was obvious.  It wasn’t her if you’re wondering.”  

He added, “T’Kown was the first member of the flight to find out about my abilities.  It was purely accidental on both our parts but we bumped into each other, literally, and the contact lead to her mind touching mine.  She promised her silence on the matter since it’s information I don’t want being common knowledge.   Either which way Captain Talon’s trust of Miss Murphy seemed, by all appearances, to be sincere.  The Captain seems a good sense of character by my observations and based on conversations with others.  Plus, Commander Nalim also helped in putting together an official background in this universe…An El-Aurian intelligence officer also seems like someone who would be able to pick up on ulterior motives. Either way I trust Miss Murphy but only to a point.  Like anyone I meet she has to earn my trust.  She’s been true to her word so far.  If she’s hiding anything she’s bound to make a misstep.  We’ve got enough people watching her they’re likely to notice.”

Sh’iv simply shrugged, not completely convinced, “You are the leader.  I will take your lead on this.”

Ming noticed she was still unconvinced which somehow didn’t quite surprise him.  She at least appeared to be willing to go along with it.  He said, “I appreciate that.  If she’s not what she appears to be she’ll have snowed over a number of people including an El-Aurian intel officer.  That said I’m rarely one to get upset with a deserved ‘I told you so’ aimed at me when I have earned it.  Then again if we are all wrong it’s liable to be catastrophic which is why I have the grounds crew as well as others keeping an eye on her.”

He leaned slightly against his desk crossing his arms thoughtfully before he continued, “I am not going to order you to like her.  Not really my place even if felt that it were a reasonable request…which I do not.  Fully realize Andorians prefer to be direct.  I find that admirable most of the time and will always expect that when I am asking your council one on one.”

Marcus paused once more for effect before finishing, “In every unit I’ve worked in not everyone has been close friends however there has almost always been a certain level of professionalism.  Plus I’ve been in a situation similar to yours in the past where I disliked as well as distrusted a crewmate.  My commanding officer asked me to keep things civil if not friendly. I developed a fair poker face as a result.  Since I never ask anyone to do anything I would not do I would appreciate similar efforts on your part.   Is that fair?” 

“I will endeavor to keep my thoughts more… opaque in the future. But as you have observed my people do not share you pink skins’ affinity for diplomacy.”

Marcus nodded and said, “That is more than fair and I’d appreciate it.   I am unsure if you’ve heard but I got an update confirming that Erikson is out indefinitely and is being transferred to Starfleet Medical on Earth via hospital ship.  He absorbed a lot of radiation across the whole EM band and was lucky to survive.  They expect a recovery of at least 90% but, knowing Günther, he’ll push for better than that and faster than the medical people are expecting. It’s a waiting game toward that end.”

Ming exhaled releasing some of the frustration he felt and moved forward, “I’m using the rest of today as an official R&R day for the squadron since our ship’s repairs are being wrapped up once we get the introductions done.  Abara will be on my wing since that was his role our last squadron as well as Knight 5’s role so far under Erickson.  That’ll be best since we are both already familiar with the other’s flying styles and will not require us getting used as used to each other as a flying pair off the bat.  Drills start tomorrow however so we can work to improve our formations and combat tactics in addition to get unit cohesion back on track since Mr. Abara is new to the Knights as a whole.”    

The Knight’s CO paused again looking thoughtful this time.  He added, “If you don’t mind, I would like to ask one more thing of you.  Once our flight meet & greet is over I’d like to ask you to put together some notes on how you think we can improve our tactics based on our combat actions thus far.  As I previously mentioned I value your opinions and another prospective on the matter could be quite useful I believe.  You don’t have to spend the whole day on the matter mind you…but whenever you find the time”  

“Um…” Her face flushed purple, “Of course sir.”

Ming noticed and immediately employed the previously mentioned poker face he’d just mentioned.   He thought her blush was endearing but he also hoped to instill some well-deserved confidence.  She knew her stuff and had proven it a number of times over.  She might be leading her own flight someday or have some other form of command after all.  

He nodded and said, “Is there anything else to discuss before we head out there for the formal announcement and introductions?”

She hesitated, “I can’t promise I’ll provide anything of substance or of use to you. I honestly don’t know why you made me your second in command, but I will try to get you that report. Other than that… I am ready.” 

“Just focus on the task and you’ll be fine.  I felt rather unworthy myself when I made XO of the Rangers.  I focused on the task, applied my best efforts and a bit less than eight Terran months I got tagged to become Knight Actual. I’ve had some good role models and, for the rest, I honestly have researched a bit and otherwise have been following my instincts.  Following my gut as we humans often say.  It’s worked out pretty well so far,” Ming said with a bit of a grin toward the end. 

“You’ve got this Sh’iv.  I’ve total confidence in your abilities based on what I have seen so far…but anyway it looks like the crew is waiting so let’s do this.  On me Lieutenant,” Marcus told his XO starting after a brief pause and ending with another grin.   The two left the Flight Commander’s office and entered the flight bay with the assembled pilots and crew.  The official yet largely informal introductions were about to begin. 

It had been a long day.  The introductions for the former Ranger 5 turned Knight 5 went well.  He knew Abara was a very amiable person among friends and allies and most of the others seemed to agree.  There were one or two crewmates who were a tough read.  Either which way his old and new wingman would likely win them over.   

Marcus had spent the last 90 minutes working on fine tuning some battle plans and formations for future use. There were some improvements and one or two brick walls he’d run into.  Rather than bang his head against the wall he opted to give it a rest for the rest of the evening and resume tomorrow after some rest.   

Dinner tonight was something that was a very acquired taste but one he enjoyed.  What was classified as a medium “white” New York style pizza with extra cheese all over, with one half being mushrooms as well as anchovies and the other being smoked clams, bacon and fresh basil. Girlfriends and friends alike often gave him grief about his go to toppings.  His other favorites were pineapple with bacon and Italian sausage with mushrooms.    He’d often rotate between the combinations and that was fine with him considering he’d only have it once or twice a month.  After the last few weeks such an indulgence seemed earned.   

He had just finished, recycling the leftover dishes in exchange for a syntholic pilsner to sip on while watching some holodramas in the comfort of his own quarters when the computer interrupted his plans.  It stated, “Communications: Recorded message for Lieutenant Marcus Ming, personal, eyes only.” 

Puzzled, Marcus said, “Receive.  Authorization Ming Zed, Zed, five, nine, three, two, seven, echo, gamma, ultraviolet.” 

“Confirmed.  Playing recorded message,” the computer stated.   

He was shocked about what followed.  A voice he was intimately familiar with said, “Marcus….If you are hearing this I am dead.  I’m sorry if I did not have the chance to say goodbye in person but there is a war going on.   I wanted to thank you.  You were one of my best pilots and I’m not sure I could have had a better executive officer.  I’m unsure I could ever repay that.”

The woman’s voice paused for a moment, punctuated by a deep and audible sigh before she went on, “I know our relationship might’ve been frowned upon by the Fleet if it had become public knowledge but I am so very grateful for the love we have for each other.  It was unlike any relationship I have had before and it was wonderful.  I’m deeply sorry it had to end. Regardless of that I have left written instructions that all my material belongings be given to you.  My parents died years ago, as you know, and my brother and I have been estranged, likewise, for years which you also are aware of.” 

Her voice carried a tone of sadness and regret as she said, “I love you Marcus.  You were more to me than anyone else has ever been.  For that I am deeply appreciative of.  Keep up the good fight, survive this damned war and live happily ever after.  I just wish I could’ve been part of that.  Take care of yourself, Lunertic….Goodbye.  Ranger Actual out.” 

That is where the voice message ended.  He had taken a seat on his sofa and was now sitting there completely stunned.   It was bad enough that he’d had to watch his former flight leader and lover die when the Dominion took out her fighter at the Battle of Betazed.  This just twisted the knife in what was, he now realized, still an open wound.  All this lead to something that Marcus had not done in quite a while.  He unabashedly cried.  

“Oh, you won’t be spending your time in a Federation facility,” Arya told the increasingly confused-looking Cardassian seated across the interrogation table in front of her. “You’re being handed over to the Bajorans. Now, all we need to do is work out where the line is between murder and genocide and sentence you accordingly.” These were very strange words for such a gentle and kind-looking person, but Lieutenant Caidyn Arya had done a few of these interviews now and was becoming adept at baiting the Cardassians. Whether that was simply by being Bajoran or due to any particular skill on her part, she wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that it didn’t suit her, and she was coming to hate it.

“Murder?” He asked with some surprise. “I never murdered anyone!” The bleak white lighting reflected off his pale gray skin, making it even paler. Arya snorted.

“Please, we know what you did at Parnath.” The prisoner leaned forward.

“I was never at Parnath!” He protested. Another snort of derision.

“You can claim all you want, Kitaan. That does not make it true.” Arya smiled. But then she always appeared to be smiling.

“Kitaan?! I’m not Airon Kitaan; my name is Kragar, Tolis Kragar!”

Without another word, Arya stood from the table, and with a whirr, the door admitted her to the antechamber beyond.

“Tolis Kragar,” she told the officer waiting for her outside who’d been viewing the interview on the monitors.

Major Cinti Maru of the Bajoran Militia consulted her PADD. “No mention of a Tolis Kragar on the war crimes list. That doesn’t disregard a… a less prominent role in the occupation.”

“Mmm,” Arya agreed. It was important to her that any prisoners who were on the list were rooted out and exposed, but the work had never sat well with her, despite her somehow being adept at baiting the P.O.W.s. Something was pressing on her mind. She had been working with the major for a few weeks, and while the two didn’t know each other particularly well, Arya had managed to build up a decent idea of who Cinti was.

“Major, may I ask you a personal question?”

Maru didn’t look up from her PADD. She was going through the records they had from the Central Command. It had considerable holes, but it had been used to root out lesser-known war criminals in the past. “Hmmm? Oh, yes, of course.”

“Do you ever dream about the occupation?”

Maru looked up from the PADD. After a brief pause, she spoke, “I expect we all do from time to time. My family was lucky. We were spared from the worst of it, though nobody had it easy unless you were a collaborator. The Occupation doesn’t haunt me like it did for some, but I still saw things no young girl should ever have to witness. That sticks with you, and, well, yeah, it gets into the dreams from time to time, and you wake up in a cold sweat, and your heart racing.”

Arya nodded sympathetically. The major had described a familiar experience. She didn’t know what Maru had been through specifically but she was doing important work, holding the Cardassians to account. So was Arya. And yet…

“Yes, exactly,” she replied, moving a little closer, but not disrespectfully close. “I’m sorry to broach a painful subject, I ask because, well, when I escaped the occupation, I saw my way to freedom in a dream. The next day events unfolded in a way similar to what I had dreamed. I dreamed that I should join Starfleet, and here I am. I believe, right or wrong, that the prophets guide me through these dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was among the stars again, on a ship, as I was before. Perhaps my dreams simply reflect my dislike of this posting, your company excepted of course. Still, I… would like to go back to ship operations. Every day here I feel like I am reliving the occupation. Thoughts and memories I’ve tried hard to escape.”

Maru sighed,  “I think… I think you should do what you think is best for you. I can see how it could trigger unpleasant feelings.”

Unpleasant was perhaps an understatement, but at least the Major wasn’t objecting.

“I appreciate that,” Arya told her. “I shall put in a request and continue here until it comes through. Right, who’s next?”

Maru entered commands into her PADD, “Prisoner 1228-5B, Thirak, Lorim.”

The Xoval was traveling at low warp, heading for the shipyards. The infiltration team was assembled in the shuttle bay, and the Romulan shuttle they would be using sat nearby.

Collins checked his weapons. He was carrying a modified phase rifle, a hand phaser, and a combat knife.

A trio of Romulans entered the shuttle bay. Commander Tomarah scanned the assembled Federation officers and approached Jeter. “Commander,” Tomarah greeted in typical Romulan fashion. ”These two will be accompanying you. May I present Sub-Lieutenant Thalor and Major Tovarik of the Tal-Shiar.”

Jeter cast an eye over each of them, “Sub-Lieutenant Thalor and Major Tovarik, it is a pleasure to meet you both, though I must say I thought most of the Tal-Shiar were lost in the attack on the Founder’s homeworld.”

“Not all of us,” Tovarik replied without giving anything away.

“Were you planning on only having two officers infiltrate the yard, Commander? I had expected several more for your team?” Jeter asked as he glanced back at the other officers from the Denver.

“A smaller force is sometimes more effective,” Tomarah observed.

Jeter smirked, “Too true, Commander. I am sure that Sub-Lieutenant and Major will provide more than enough support. We best get everything in order.”

Cezear looked up at hearing Tal-Shiar, gave a raised eyebrow look toward Commander Jeter, and then went back to checking his gear.

Ming was the pilot for this mission; however, he wasn’t about to go into this unprepared. He was checking his own gear like his comrades. Type 1 phaser, type 2 phaser, spare power supplies for both, two wolfram brass-style knuckles, and a stylized combat blade. The garrote he kept hidden on his person. He liked to hedge his bets, so in this case, if a fight came about, he planned to fight dirty and with finality.

Collins felt that the team should have been dressed alike, in non-descript clothing, so as not to let the Romulans know who attacked them. His clothes were plain and didn’t have anything identifiable on them.

“I have other duties to attend to,” Tomarah said to Jeter. Turning her attention to the rest, “On behalf of the Empire, ‘Falor hael. May your path be cloaked in victory.’”

Ming waited for a few heartbeats before looking up toward the Romulan commander and saying, “Falor hael… May all of our paths be cloaked in victory.”

A wide grin spread over Jeter’s face as he looked at Tomarah, “I always like to think, ‘Who Dares, Wins.’ We will get what is needed.”

Tomarah gave Jeter a smirk, turned, and left the shuttle bay.

Marcus was used to the cockpit, but he knew enough about Romulan traditions to know it’d have been bad form not to return the sentiment. He was much more than a pilot, though, and realized he knew enough about this mission to realize he was going to have to draw from his off-the-norm experiences and training to date.

Stepping into the Romulan shuttle, Jeter stopped just behind Marcus, “You all set? I should be sealing up the doors any second.”

Marcus paused and nodded to Jeter, “I’m glad I have a working knowledge of basic Rihansu; otherwise, I might have issues with the controls. Since I can, I am about as ready as one can be.”

“I am impressed a human can read our language,” Thalor replied, sitting next to Ming in the co-pilot’s seat.

Marcus smiled slightly as he started work on the startup and pre-launch checklists. He replied coolly, slipping into a passable version of the Romulan language, “I had my choice of languages at Starfleet Academy. I started with Vulcan, but Rihansu seemed a bit more exotic, and, well, I presumed it might come in useful someday. This is not quite what I imagined, but here we are.”

Jeter nodded and turned back to others, “OK, everyone. Get on board. We have a bit of a ride ahead of us to the shipyard.”

Collins, carrying his phaser rifle, entered the Romulan shuttle and took a seat near the back. Viat, his phaser rifle reverse-slung for faster deployment, followed Collins. Load-bearing vest loaded with type 1 and 2 hand phasers, spare cells, and a replicated Khukri sword to replace the ritual blade he loaned on the last mission.

Tovarik was the last to enter the shuttle, his eyes scanning the assemblage with suspicious eyes. He took a seat next to Collins but didn’t speak.

Collins leaned over and whispered to Tovarik, “I guess you don’t trust them either.”

“What makes you believe that?” He asked without giving anything away.

Jeter stepped past them and hit the controls for the rear hatch. As it closed behind him, he cast his eyes on Collins and Tovarik, “Start thinking of ways we can use our varied skill sets together; we have a bit of a ride ahead of us.” With that, he made his way past them to the cockpit, “We are all buttoned up. Ready to go as soon as we get the go-ahead from Commander Tomorah.”

“Strike Team, we are in position, and you are cleared to launch,” Tomarah’s voice broke over the com.

“Alright. As we say on Earth, it’s time to put our game faces on. Commander, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate your assistance keeping an eye out for bogies and any freak navigation hazards. I’ll be watching as I go and attempt to telegraph and communicate as much as possible. All I am asking for is support and the same if you would,” Ming said.

The first two sentences were in Federation Basic, with the rest being in Rihansu for the Commander’s benefit. He had little doubt about the universal translator’s ability, but he was knowledgeable enough about the other’s language that he felt it better to translate directly.

“A sensible precaution,” Thalor replied in Federation basic.

Ming offered a bit of a grin as he started the launch sequence, which went smoothly, and set the prescribed vector toward the target of the mission. It was going to be an interesting ride for which Ming was quite comfortable with. He hoped his confidence was warranted, but he aimed to do his part so that it was.

Thelos – 12 Hours Later

“That is quite the sight,” Jeter said as he looked out the main viewport at the extensive bulk of the Thelos ship foundry. “Just look at all those construction bays. There easily are a hundred Jem’Hadar fighters there and several cruisers.”

“All the more reason for this mission to succeed,” Thalor replied.

Viat offered a Rihannsu phrase. First in English, then in the proper Rihannan dialect. “Let the Elements turn my Fire into the steel I need to defeat my enemies.”

“Okay, get us into position, Ming. We need to get on board, raid their systems, and get out without them suspecting there is a fleet planning an attack,” Jeter remarked as he looked back at the rest of the team. “We will be going in as quietly as possible.”

Cezear quickly checked to make sure that his gear was in its proper places. “Not exactly known for being quiet, careful yes, quiet not so much,” he said with a smile.

“Understood, Mr. Jeter,” Lt. Ming replied as he complied with the order. He smoothly and unobtrusively got the vessel where the game plan prescribed. He verbally confirmed with, “In position,” when the maneuver was complete.

Jeter looked up at the shipyard that was now less than five meters from their position, “Good work, Lieutenant.” With that, he patted Ming on the shoulder and turned to the two Romulans, “The boarding collar ready? We are in position by one of the emergency hatches.” He then looked at the others, “Gear up; one way or another, we are boarding this station.”

Thalor nodded, “It is.”

Cezear did one more check on the shuttle’s sensors. “Showing in the clear, nothing near us, nothing coming this way. Better make this quick.”

“Perfect. Hold us steady, Lieutenant,” Jeter said as he looked towards Thalor. “Over to you. Once the seal is formed, we move out. Fast and quiet.”

The Romulan shot Jeter a contemptuous look but didn’t say anything as he entered commands into the terminal. “The seal is complete.”

Ignoring the look, Jeter simply nodded, “Alright, let’s go.” After a quick check to confirm the presence of atmosphere, he opened the hatch, stepped out, and made his way through the boarding collar, stepping up to the airlock on the other end. Entering a quick set of commands on the control panel, he couldn’t help but smirk, “At least the Cardassians still work under the sense that an emergency airlock should be opened in an emergency.” Stepping back, he raised his rifle as the door swung open, revealing an empty room inside. “Everyone in.”

Viat took point, going a few meters to his left, then had other members leapfrog behind him as they all filed in. A simple non-descript corridor. Taking out his tricorder, he planted it on the wall console and brought up the screen. “A facility this large will usually have a simple map for the many not to get lost.”

Ming pointedly covered the rear. It was, in the past, the position where he often was the most good, plus it allowed him to double back to the ship in a hurry if needed. He’d put on one of his knuckles and had his type 2 Phaser drawn at the ready.

Marcus knew there were Jem’Hadar and, likely, some Vortas lurking around. A Changeling or two would be all sorts of luck… He couldn’t decide if that’d be good luck or bad. Either way, he had no intention of being snuck up on and kept actively looking for danger.

Cezear looked at his tricorder and then toward Jeter. “Looks like this corridor splits in about sixty meters; I’m showing several doors on either side and possibly a large room on the port side. Reading at least two, maybe more life signs in that same direction.“

“No prisoners,” Major Tovarik said softly, “And no stuns. Their internal sensors will likely detect directed energy fire and draw the whole base down on us.” To emphasize his point, the Tal-Shiar agent drew a long black dagger in a backwards grip.

Jeter sighed quietly and nodded, “I would say no energy weapons, a prisoner or two could be useful to take back.”

“While I am not opposed to a prisoner ‘interview’ Jem’Hadar are notoriously impossible to glean valuable information from, and dragging prisoners around is a massive liability,” Tovarik replied. “I don’t recommend it.”

“True,” Jeter remarked, “I had been thinking a Cardassian or a Vorta myself, but that is not a mission. Focus on clearing the room.”

He glanced back at the others and down at the map, “Based on our intel, that room is our first target. It is meant to be an auxiliary control room for this section. We should be able to access their systems from there. When we enter the room, move fast. Viat and Collins, you take point; we will be right behind you. Clear the doorway quickly.”

Collins moved off the others, scouting out the area, his rifle raised and ready.

Viat came behind him. He was slinging his rifle muzzle down and unsheathing the Khukri sword. Taking the opposite wall, then leap-frogged in front, allowing Collins to cover him, while Gus took point. The no-energy weapons added complexity to the mission. If they had to shoot their way out, phasers probably weren’t going to cut it. Still, it was a huge critical error in the intel of the mission as well as poor planning on both teams that it wasn’t considered.

Ming scowled at the discussion about no phasers. It made sense, but he didn’t like it all that much. He holstered his phaser but adorned his second set of Tungsten knuckles. If he had to go hand to hand, he wanted to have every edge he could muster. This was a war, not some friendly sparring. He had arranged his phasers and blade where he could easily grab any in a tight spot. He was quite glad that he planned ahead on that score.

Thalor glanced around, checked his Romulan tricorder at the entrance to the control room. “I have three life signs. Two Jem’Hadar, and one indeterminate. The two are standing across from the door while the third is two meters to our right.”

Taking out his own tricorder and multi-tool, Gus Viat scanned and then pulled the access panel from the door to the room. Setting up a feed, he carefully added a micro transmitter around the data conduit. The low power of the device should prevent the triggering of any alarms. Capturing a view of a similar door with two Jem’Hadar outside guarding the door, he set up a loop that would override the data from outside this control door. Gus explained what he had in mind, “Collins and I will take the Jem’Hadar. I hope to lure them close to the door by creating a malfunction. Certain actions in most races are semi-autonomous. Non-functioning equipment annoyance is most universal. Lieutenant Ming, the third occupant, is your target.”

Ming nodded as he drew his blade. He grabbed it so that the blade was downward facing and the sharper side of the blade out. The handle fit in his hand so that it would reinforce his Tungsten knuckles if he punched someone, assuming he opted for that as opposed to using the blade. He kept his eyes sharp as he got ready to move.

The data feed was in place, and Gus triggered the door chime. He heard a muffled voice respond to enter, but the team held their place. Waiting…he triggered the door chime again. The voice was a bit louder. Still, they held their place. Finally, Gus knocked on the actual door, sword in his open hand.

A tense moment passed before the door opened, and a Cardassian soldier stood there, “What do you want….” he began to say before trailing off, seeing not a Cardassian or Dominion soldier there but a Vulcan.

Acting on instinct, Gus one-armed the Cardassian officer, sending him toward Marcus. Disabling the first person would only do so much. Better to get him out of the way. The Jem’Hadar were already on the move towards them. Smartly they too, had polaron disruptors carried muzzle-low and ready as he would. Since he was in the room first, Gus took the farther of the two, thrusting his sword from right to left, diagonally up and into the center mass of the soldier.

Ming smoothly took the handoff from Gus. He reversed his blade and, as the Cardassian officer careened toward him, the Starfleet officer rammed his blade into the other sentient’s throat, cutting off his windpipe followed by the spinal column. The surprised look on the Cardassian’s face, Marcus thought, was comical in a very macabre way. The expression was momentary and became slack in death as the newly minted corpse dropped to the ground limply.

Collins already had his rifle raised, so as soon as he had a clear shot, he took it. Two Jem’Hadar took the blasts to their chests and fell to the floor.

Immediately alarms filled the base in response to the phaser fire.

Jeter stepped through the doorway a second after Collins and was about to shout a warning not to fire as a reddish-orange bolt of energy shot forth. He braced himself for the inevitable alarms to start sounding as he pushed further into the room and quickly realized it was empty. “All Clear.”

“Thalor, start the download. Collins and Gus, you watch the door. Beattie and Ming, check those bodies to see if they have anything useful. They may know we are here, so let’s be quick about this.”

Gus switched to his phaser rifle; he also took out a cricket phaser, setting the device up to do a rapid overload. Just in case they needed a large distraction.

Thalor nodded. After a quick examination of the consoles, the Romulan stepped up to one and started entering commands, “Download in progress. I am accessing internal sensors.” There was a pause. “I have sent the internal sensors into a diagnostic loop. I sent a message to the command center informing the Vorta on duty that the weapons discharge was a false alarm, and that we are diagnosing the problem.”

Gus replied to Thalor. “Inventive.” There was the slightest head tilt that he knew Thalor would pick up as a sign of respect.

Major Tovarik scowled at Collins but didn’t say anything. He would keep an eye on the man. Perhaps he was a Dominion spy. Using his phaser in this situation was idiotic at best. To the Tal Shiar agent, it looked like intentional sabotage.

Still keeping Collins in his field of view, he pulled off his backpack and opened it and removed a round device. It had a dark grey outer shell and when Tovarik pressed a series of buttons, a green ring of hash marks illuminated in the center. Affixing it to the underside of a console, he closed his backpack and slid it back on.

Ming was rifling through the uniform of the Cardassian he had killed. Disruptor, standard issue blade, knickknacks that appeared to be equivalent to a pocket chronometer and pendant, and three data rods. He confiscated all of it figuring it could be useful and it deprived the enemy of gear. Even if it were a minimal inconvenience, it was an inconvenience. He usually wasn’t a fan of taking war trophies but it’d do as a reason in a pinch. He said out loud, “Three data rods on mine. No outward indications of what they are that I can see. Could be anything from battle plans and passcodes to family photos.”

“If we have to fight our way out, is there anything in a map of this facility that might cause something of a more immediate larger threat than our team? Fusion reactor, warp core, something…expensive to replace.” Gus asked genuinely. Then added, “Maps of a facility this large are rarely kept secret long. People have to know how to get around.”

Ming nodded and said, “I’ll see what we have got,” before moving to one of the wall panels with a screen and port for the data rods. One was, as he’d expected, family pictures. The second seemed to be recipes, some of which at least, looked like they had potential at a glance. The third turned out to be technical readouts… Including that map that Gus had mentioned. He just hoped the luck would keep on going.

Marcus looked at Gus and said, “Ask and ye shall receive. This looks like the map you’d hoped for?”

Collins checked the area, making sure no Jem’Hadar or Cardassians were around. He wasn’t paying attention, and he scratched his arm on a console… he started bleeding… a lot.

Jeter looked around briefly before he stepped up to Thalor, “You get everything?” Before Thalor could respond, Jeter’s eyes fell on Collins. “Beattie, get a bandage on that cut now. We need to clean up that blood as well. As soon as we get the data we need to make our escape.”

He looked over at Gus and Ming, “I am not sure we can get access to one of those key systems without alerting them that we are here but if need be we will do what we must.”

“I have all the data we need,” Thalor replied to Jeter.

“Where is the station’s fuel tanks?” Tovarik asked his compatriot.

Thalor glanced at his PADD, “Two decks down and four sections over.”

Tovarik nodded solemnly. “Very well.” Tovarik steeled his expression and paused next to Jeter, looking straight ahead, not looking at the commander. “Do not wait for me. I have orders higher up than my captain or yours. Note that your Mr. Collins and his reckless use of a phaser has sealed my fate. If all goes well, neither the Empire nor Starfleet will have a need to send in ships.” With that, the Tal Shiar agent ran out of the room without looking back.

Jeter glanced at him, understanding exactly what he intended, and simply nodded.

Ming watched in disbelief at Tovarik’s final statement and departure. Ming glanced at the remaining Romulan and then turned his attention to Jeter and Collins. “Shall I go after him or help wrap things up here? Your call.”

“No,” Thalor announced. “Not enough time. The Major is buying us all time to get out of here. I suggest we don’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

Ming looked toward Thalor as he spoke and scowled a bit when he finished but nodded. He knew enough about Rihannsu psychology that it clicked. He said, “Understood. Are we ready to move, folks? If so, I’d suggest collecting our gear plus any data rods within reach for later analysis.”

Marcus stowed the data rods he had in a cargo pocket in his slacks and looked at the Cardassian weapons. He said, “I’d suggest grabbing some of the Cardassian weapons. They won’t need ’em anymore; it’ll deprive them of weapons in the short term anyway. If we need to fire, which is still an absolutely do-or-die last resort, I’d venture to guess it might go over better than if they happen to check the signature of the weapons fire. That’s just a guess, of course, but hedging our bets wouldn’t hurt, I’d think.”

“Agreed,” Jeter remarked as he picked up one of the Cardassian phasers, a weapon he was all too familiar with from years before. “Let’s move; we need to get back to the shuttle yesterday!”

Ming grabbed a few errant data rods and stowed them in the leg pocket with the others. He’d already cleaned and re-sheathed his knife and was now wielding one of the two disruptor pistols he’d grabbed. The pilot moved toward the door and said, “Suggest Mr. Jeter takes point with me, followed by all of us getting the hell outta Dodge.”

Jeter stepped up to the door and glanced outside. “Hallway is clear; let’s go.” With that, he stepped into the hallway and began to retrace their path back to the shuttle and the breached airlock. The next couple of minutes passed in tense silence as they made their way through the maze of passageways before he called a halt just before they reached the final junction. Before them was a Vorta with two Jem’Hadar guards inspecting what appeared to be a Cardassian maintenance crew as they worked on a power coupling. Moving back so they were out of earshot, he pulled out a PADD with the map of the station. “I don’t think there is a way around. We may have to go through them.”

“May I suggest,” Collins leaned over and whispered. “Our rifles are equipped with a ‘silence’ option. We can kill or stun them all, use our knives to kill the Jem’Hadar, and take the Vorta and Cardassian prisoners for questioning once we get back to the ship.” In fact, he was trying to redeem himself from the earlier fiasco. Nodding at the suggestion, Gus offered, “They are unlikely to ignore a second weapons malfunction. However, a distraction may be available.” Pulling up the map on his tricorder, he pulled an access panel and checked the power coupling. Asking Ming to hand him a Cardassian phaser, he set the power cell to shunt its energy back through the coupling. A shower of sparks and a series of Cardassian expletives later greeted the team’s ear.

Ming gave a not-quite-suppressed grin at Collins and Gus. Not the worst ideas regardless of the potential to backfire. He adjusted the settings on the remaining Cardassian disruptor he still had, grateful he grabbed two. He slung it and adorned the Tungsten knuckles once again. He also pulled out his blades. The Cardi blade was in an upward position in his right hand, while the one he brought was downward in his left. Incapacitate vs. kill options were now both open. He also started to loosen his movements. Drunken Boxing was one of the martial arts he was trained in, and he felt it would be a good opening gambit here. He remained ready, despite his demeanor, for the inevitable pending encounter.

When a Cardassian rounded the corner right in front of the Starfleet officer, he smoothly rammed his arm upwards into a Tungsten-reinforced uppercut into the breadbasket. As the Legate doubled over, Ming slid his hands on either side of the other man’s head to draw it down to his rising knee, which connected in short order. As he crumpled, Marcus used the momentum to shove the unconscious form to the side. Things were getting more real than he liked as he heard others around the corner where his victim came from, and he used hand signals to indicate it.

Jeter stepped around the corner and looked down at the bodies and shook his head. “Had to be done. Let’s get to the shuttle.” With that, he waved the others forward and quickly made his way around the last couple of corners until he found himself in front of the airlock.

Turning to Ming, he spoke, “Get it powered up. Everyone strap in.”

“On it,” Ming said before sliding into the pilot’s seat, deftly strapped in, and started an expedited startup, keeping a wary eye on the readings as he did so. Now would be one of the worst times for a surprise.

Thalor slid into the co-pilot’s seat, his fingers moving over the console. “Inter-mix chambers are coming online. Cloak is on standby.”

“Confirmed. Fire up the weapons too. While the best bet is to launch, cloak, and get gone, we need to be ready for anything,” Marcus said in his best Rihansu to his Romulan copilot as he finished his end of the startup.

Thalor frowned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We’re no match for a single Jem’Hadar fighter, let alone a squadron.” He entered commands. “Disruptors are charging.”

“True perhaps, but I’ve found it wise to keep my options open. ‘It’s better to keep your options open than keeping your eyes closed’ is an old Terran saying that I am partial to,” Ming replied as he wrapped up the abbreviated checks.

Collins strapped into his seat and waited for the ship to leave the station.

“Buckle in, folks. It’s go time,” Marcus said as he initiated the launch. As the ship cleared, he activated the cloak, engaged full impulse to maximum safe distance, and went into warp to rendezvous with Xoval. He checked the sensors and said in Rihansu to Thalor, “I don’t see signs of pursuit. Do you concur?”

“I think they have bigger problems,” Thalor said. He brought up the video feed from the external sensors. The base had erupted in flame, and as a chain reaction, ships exploded one by one, intensifying the ball of fire and ripping apart the dry dock facilities. “We in the Empire have our issues with the Tal Shiar, but the Major just saved a lot of lives today.”

Ming glanced at the scanners covering the aft for a brief moment, and his jaw all but dropped. “Damn…score one for the Tal Shiar and the good guys, I should say.”

The pilot said to everyone in earshot, “We’re looking good for a clear shot home at the moment, everyone. The enemy base appears to be out of commission thanks to the Tal Shiar and the Romulan Star Empire. In the words of the 20th century, ‘smoke if ya got em.’ We will watch for surprises; however, if you’re hungry, we should be okay for food, and if anyone needs a cat nap, it‘s as good a time as any to do so.”

Prisoner 8472, or Riandri to everyone else, stared a the unexpected arrivals, her crewmates from the Denver, with a mixture of emotions but the strongest had to be shock at seeing her own face staring right back at her and the multiple phaser rifles pointed right at her.

Before she could say anything else the other Riandri let out a laugh as she readied her rifle, “I’m no imposter, clearly we have stumbled upon some Dominion infiltration plot. We cannot trust any of them.”

“Spoken like a true Changeling, you Coward,” prisoner 8472 spat.

Commander Cheon’s voice resonated with authority as he continued to address the tension-filled room. His years of experience in navigating complex and delicate situations shone through in his measured words.

“Riandri, I know it’s a lot to take in, but jumping to conclusions won’t help us. We need to remember our principles and values as Starfleet officers. In a situation like this, we have protocols to follow. Let’s begin by gathering information. Riandri, could you provide some details that only the real Riandri would know? Personal memories, specific mission details, or something unique to you that would prove your identity.”

Turning to the other crewmembers from the Denver, he added, “And to the rest of you, I understand your concerns about Dominion infiltration. We can’t take this lightly, but we must also consider the possibility of a misunderstanding or another explanation. Let’s keep our phasers lowered for now and maintain a defensive posture. We’ll conduct identity checks and background verifications to determine the truth.”

Cheon’s approach was calculated, aiming to bridge the gap between suspicion and trust. He knew that in such a tense and uncertain situation, hasty actions could lead to tragic consequences. By encouraging open communication and a methodical investigation, he hoped to uncover the truth without unnecessary conflict. The crewmembers exchanged nervous glances but followed his lead, lowering their phasers and agreeing to start the verification process. The room began to shift from a hostile standoff to a more cooperative environment, where the crew could work together to unravel the mystery of the duplicate Riandri and the potential Dominion threat.

“I do not believe we have sufficient evidence to decide which is an imposter and which is not at this juncture,” T’Val said, unsure where to aim her phaser rifle.

Instinctively, Arin’s hand wrapped around the Type 2 phaser in its holster. The cricket was in her flight suit pocket near her offhand. Her training and quite a bit of practice allowed her to change the settings without looking.

Greene pointed his weapon first at one Riandri, then at the next. Sweat trickled down his back, sending chills up his spine. “Hold on now! We can’t all be infiltrators. I highly doubt there are this many Changelings in the quadrant, let alone this sector. And I certainly don’t resemble a Jem’Hadar. However,  we do have a duplicate here. I suggest we stun both of them, take them back to your ship, and sort things out there. Engaging in a Mexican standoff in the corridor, waiting for the bad guys to return and lock us all up is not a good idea.”

Prisoner 8472 glanced at the prisoners around her and exhaled slightly as they had almost all taken a step or two away from her and she could almost feel the weapons now pointed at her back. She glanced over at the other Riandri and shrugged, “I have nothing to hid so happy to go along for whatever tests the XO and Captain want. Though I would per not to be stun. Always makes me a little nauseous afterward.”  She gave Greene a hard look as she spoke.

“Oh course you would say that, easiest way to get onto the ship for an infiltrator. Best to just test us here, then kill the imposter,” Riandri said as she stared daggers at the other one, surrounded by the prisoners. 3436 stepped forward, the one with the purple hair, matched by the purple bruises on her face.

“Blood screenings are ineffective as of the Leyton incident,” she started in a tone of some authority. “They know how to circumvent them now. It’ll have to be a phaser sweep to force it to change form. What you do with the imposter is up to you.”

Addressing the group, Arin offered. “People, our taxi awaits. I, for one, would like to get out of here. Preferably intact. We could always store them both in the transporter’s pattern buffer. Deal with it on more even terms.”

“Wouldn’t recommend knowingly transporting a changeling on board.” 3436 replied. “And I should know, that’s how I ended up here. You know the good thing about being a Commander? This. Pass that here, that’s an order” she commanded one of the Starfleet prisoners who had a Jem’hadar weapon. With her hands on the Polaron rifle, she started adjusting settings and raised the weapon, pointing at the Riandri amongst the Starfleet officers, ready to fire.

“Hold on! Here?” Greene exclaimed. He looked behind him down the corridor.  “Whatever we need to move. Make a decision people.”

“Who’s in command here?” 3436 asked, the frustration in her voice evident.

Both Riandris just stood there staring at each other keeping their faces calm in an eerie mirror image of each other. 

Commander Cheon’s authoritative presence and tone demanded immediate attention and compliance, causing the woman holding the Polaron rifle to lower her weapon, albeit reluctantly. His unwavering determination was a reminder that he was indeed the one in command.

“Thank you,” he nodded at her before turning his attention to the two Riandris. “Hold your hands out, palms facing me,” he ordered once more, maintaining a watchful gaze as they complied. The process was tense, but it was a necessary step to determine if there were any molecular or physical differences between the two individuals.

Cheon’s concern grew as he noticed the absence of his Chief Medical Officer, which could complicate the situation. He hesitated, then turned to the woman who had been holding the Polaron rifle, hoping she might have the medical training they needed.

“I hate to ask you this, but given the circumstances, do you have any advanced medical training?” he inquired, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. They needed someone with the expertise to assist in the identification process, utilizing specialized knowledge or equipment to reveal any discrepancies or signs of Changeling infiltration. The situation remained precarious, and determining the true nature of the two Riandris was of paramount importance.

3436 didn’t take her eyes off the identical pair. She was pissed after her previous ship was destroyed and was only too happy to melt a changeling.

“Short answer: yes,” She said quickly. “Doctor Lavender Haigh, serial AX-411-9078 PQA. A low-level phaser sweep would force them to change shape, but the real human would get burned by it. Basic blood tests can be faked. I can do more involved testing but I’d need access to your sickbay.”

Commander Cheon nodded at Lavender’s suggestion, appreciating the input. The situation was delicate, and they needed to proceed with caution and a well-thought-out plan.

He then issued a firm command to the individuals present, ensuring that no one would make any sudden moves. “No one moves until I say to,” he ordered, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a controlled and secure environment.

His attention shifted to Greene, one of the individuals from the prison. “You,” he addressed Greene directly. “What’s your name and job?” Cheon needed to gather information about the members of his own crew to establish their identities and roles, as this would be a critical step in resolving the uncertainty surrounding the two Riandris.

“Ensign Charles Greene,” he replied. “Former engineer on the USS Fermi.”

Both Riandri’s looked to Cheon, Green and Haigh. “Sir, if you must do a phaser sweep then so be it,” said the one within the group of officers which a snort from the other. “Trying to cover your nerves changeling?”

Suddenly an idea came to mind and Cheon turned his focus from Green to T’Val, “Ensign,” he said as he looked over at her. 

He then stepped away from the group and waited for her to join him.

The Ensign nodded and joined the man, “Yes sir?” 

Cheon, standing a bit apart from the group with Ensign T’Val, spoke in a low, measured tone to ensure privacy.

“Ensign, did you happen to pack a photon grenade in your kit before we left the Denver?” he inquired, his gaze focused on her with a mix of urgency and determination.

He hoped that T’Val had the requested equipment, as it would simplify the identification process and potentially unveil any impostors or hidden threats among them. However, Cheon deliberately kept the specifics of his plan hidden, not wanting to reveal too much until he was certain of the available resources and the Ensign’s readiness to carry out the task at hand.

The tension in the air lingered, and the crewmembers observed their commanding officer and the Ensign with a combination of curiosity and concern, waiting for the next steps in this unfolding drama.

“Denver to away team.” Rebecca’s voice rang through the team’s combadges. “Report commander.”

As Cheon stood there with T’Val he heard the voice of his Captain. Reaching up he tapped his combadge, “Captain, Rey Al Ert needs to be notified of the situation down here. As a possible PG contamination discharge is emanate,” he hoped that the captain would understand what he was saying.

“Are you sure?”

“Affirmative Captain, Rey Al Ert needs this information,” he confirmed again.

‘”Cheon do as you see fit, but we have a Cardassian cruiser entering extreme sensor range.  Whatever you decide do it quickly. The bases’ shields are down so once we have the all-clear we’ll start beaming our people over.”

“Understood, it shouldn’t take too long to lock down the discharge. Will contact you once everything is clear,” he replied as he tapped his badge severing the connection. His eyes came to rest on T’Val as he waited for her response to his inquiry.

T’Val nodded, “I have the requested equipment Commander.“

Out she withdrew three photon grenades which she had secreted about her person for easy access. She was not aware of his plan, but she had felt that the weapons might be useful, although at close range they posed a threat to not only her own life, but everyone else’s. Hence she was careful with handling them.As Cheon executed his plan, he worked with precision and speed, discreetly altering the photon grenade to serve as a means of identification. With his back turned to the crew, he skillfully disassembled and modified the device, ensuring that his actions remained concealed. T’Val observed silently, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Once the modifications were complete, Cheon turned about, the altered grenade hidden behind his back. His eyes flickered with determination as he moved to the center of the gathered crew. The tension in the air thickened, each crew member watching Cheon with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

With a subtle wink, Cheon revealed the grenade, pulling the pin and letting it fall between his feet. The crew braced themselves as a bright, intense light emanated from the modified device, followed by a deafening explosion. The shockwave rippled through the area, and everyone instinctively shielded their eyes from the sudden burst of light.

As the brilliance faded, Cheon surveyed the aftermath. His gaze shifted between the two Riandris, searching for any telltale signs of the altered explosion’s effects. 

Greene rolled to his knees his head still ringing. These people are crazy, he thought to himself as he tried to make the world stop going inverted like a roller coaster. They have been out in the black too long.

Both Riandri’s stared at each other as the shockwave rippled through the area. The second it passed through the Riandri in the Starfleet uniform she let out an ear-piercing screech and collapsed inwards and down, turning into a golden brown liquid. The changeling then shut upwards in the shape of a line poll before exploding outwards knocking the nearby officers to the ground as it angled itself towards a small grate on the wall. 

Riandri let out a shout and dove for the captured Jem’Hadar rifle she had dropped as she tried to bring it to bear but was a second too slow. As she did several reactionary shots flew over her head striking the wall around the changeling with only one hitting home causing the changeling to wail in agony before it vanished from site.

“DAMN IT!,” Riandri said as she regained her feet. “Clever trick with that one XO, I appreciate it.”

The day was almost over and Ming had returned home to his quarters.  He’d exchanged his uniform for a loose and comfortable pair of black silk pajama bottoms and his favorite slippers.  Dinner had been a bowl of ramen with sliced roast pork, half a hardboiled egg and all the usual fixings with a very warm jasmine tea to wash it down.  He was sprawled on his sofa reading a hard copy book he’d picked out of his library.  It was a book called “How Few Remain” written by a Harold “Harry” Turtledove.  The author had gotten his PHD in Byzantine history at the University of California and wrote from the end of the 20th century and early into the 21st century.  

This book was set in 1882 in an alternate history where the American War between the States was won by the Confederacy creating three countries north of the Rio Grande rather than two.  In this universe the Confederate States was closely allied with the Republic of France and the United Kingdom.  The United States of America was growing closer to the Kaiser’s German Empire.  Ming appreciated the other man’s grasp of the historical figures being applied to a slightly different historical position. He slipped in a bookmark once he got to the end of the current chapter and closed the book, putting it on the table across from the couch.  

He took a deep breath then exhaled before interlacing his fingers laying his hands on his bare stomach.   His eyes slowly drifted close and he proceeded with a series of deep inhalations, a pause, followed by exhales.  He kept this pattern as he allowed his thoughts to melt into a sort of mental white noise as he drifted into a hyper relaxed and meditative state.  It was a technique he had known since he was nine years old.  He often used this technique whenever he need to center his feelings.  Now his primary focus was to figure out exactly what he WAS feeling.  It was very hard to center something when you didn’t know the parameters are he’d been taught.

Through the noise his mind generated the face of the woman the Knights new as Ranger 1.  She was his former flight leader and a woman whom he’d cared for very deeply even though they’d ceased their role as lovers about two weeks prior to his being promoted and reassigned to the Denver.  They both had known the risks if their physical relationship within their own chain of command had gotten out…Especially as she was the one who promoted him to XO of Ranger Flight when that position opened up. He thought now exactly how he thought then…If command didn’t approve they could soak their heads.  She assured him the decision was based on performance and talents in the cockpit.  If that’s what she told him he knew it was solid gold pressed latinum.  He felt the deep affection and the fathomless despair of her death.  He face faded from his mind’s eyes with the feelings trailing behind much slower. 

He then saw the face of Esessa Sh’ivhohlol aka “Sh’iv”.  The Andorian shen was straight forward and a talented and aggressive if not brutal fighter pilot.  That was an asset during this war.  She also had doubts and certain vulnerabilities as well.  She hid them well but he as expert, for a human, at reading people.  Truth be told all that added up to the fact he liked her.  She was also a great pick for XO as her flying style and approaches were different from his.  He felt a certain warmth towards her that he hadn’t quite noticed before.  His conscious mind told him that it was because she was a flight mate and growing into a friend. That was all he’d allow himself to think of her.  

The faces of the rest of his flight came next.  He felt a deep sense of trust toward them especially Mr. Abara who was the one member of the Rangers to come out of Betazed unscathed.  He couldn’t say that about his most recent wingman which brought about an unreasonable ping of guilt.   Another fading away of faces.  

The next face his mind brought up the face of a half Human / half Orion woman by the name of Arin Jones.  Callsign of Mercy.  Every emotion faded except for that of warmth.  He knew was an expert pilot in addition to being a damned skilled drinker.  She was also a beautiful woman whom he adored as a friend. Was she more?  Nope.   That could change in the future but he wouldn’t count his proverbial chickens before they hatched.   

After a moment his mind went a blank of imagery but not of the uncertain thoughts, mild confusion, a smattering of some jumbled happier emotions almost dwarfed by his regrets and grief.  He was able to put all that behind him when he left his quarters but when he was here, alone as he was, it all flooded back.   

He sighed as he opened his eyes and swung his legs off the couch to sit up.  Marcus knew he had to figure this out and find a way to manage his feelings of loss better than he had been.  Getting up, the pilot walked over the desk included with his quarters.  He said, “Computer:  draft message to ship’s counselor.”

The Denver’s computer replied, “Message to Lieutenant Emimi Qetax, Ship’s Counselor, USS Denver… Begin when ready.”

Ming said, “Counselor:   I would like to request an appointment at your earliest convenience.  I … think there are a few things I need to get off my mind and you might well be the best person to help me with that.  Please send me some times in which you have some availability and we’ll set something up.  I’d appreciate it.  Ming out.”

He added, “Computer:  Send message.”

Once the computer acknowledged he went to the replicator, drank a quick cup of chamomile tea, got ready for then climbed into bed.  Marcus wondered, with bemusement, when things got so damned difficult.  As he wondered he started his breathing exercises.  They worked because less than two minutes later he was sound asleep.

Captain’s Log stardate: 51789.04

The USS Denver’s first joint mission with the Romulans was a resounding success. The destruction of the shipyards in the Thelos sector was a major setback for the Dominion war effort. In addition; the away team that landed on the prisoner of war camp freed one-hundred and twenty-eight Federation, Klingon, Romulan, and dissident Cardassian prisoners. The latter will likely prove useful to Starfleet Intelligence. Starfleet Command is pleased with a job well done. Which is exactly why I invaded Dominion territory risking ship and life… to please Starfleet Command.

 

As for my Romulan counterpart, I find Commander Tommarrah an agreeable, competent, and intelligent commander. She is nothing like the general reputation that most Romulans have. Though to be completely honest this is my first meeting with a Romulan. Perhaps their reputation of arrogance and possessing a superiority complex is greatly exaggerated. 

Special commendations have been placed into the records and the ship logs for both away teams, especially for commanders Cheon and Jeter as well as Major Tovarik. I know the Major isn’t Starfleet, but he sacrificed himself for my crew and future crews that would have to return to destroy the shipyard. That deserves some recognition.

 

Commander Nalim is working to discover how much damage her Changeling doppelganger has inflicted. Hopefully limited as much of our intelligence has been deemed need to know and Denver needed to know very little. The disappearance of Doctor Malex is actually a larger concern. Commander Nalim is working intelligence channels on her as well. The thought of not one but two spies on my ship is a reflection of me and my failure as a commander. I will work with Kyo and Nalim to prevent this from happening again.

Ready room…

Rebecca stared down at the PADD in her hand and sighed.  Setting it down she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat back in her chair letting the hot liquid to warm her soul.  The door chime interrupted her thoughts and she sat up and adjusted her uniform. “Enter.”

Ming had been thinking about the away mission on and off since even before the Xoval returned them back to the Denver.  There were a few slips here and there but the mission had resolved better than expected in the end.  The Rangers had done some mixed missions while he was with that flight, so this hadn’t been his first rodeo.  Pilots with some clandestine missions had filled a unique niche which he found to be an experience he felt worked out nicely in that circumstance.  Of course the Tucson was gone now and Ming with Abara were now the only surviving members of that unit after Betazed.  He didn’t plan on suggesting a repeat scenario on Denver but he did feel like it was worth discussing a few bits with the Captain.  He also had hoped to find out if ANY of the data rods collected had proved to be useful.  

He took a deep breath before activating the door chime at the Captain’s ready room door.  At her invite Ming entered the ready room and briefly came to attention in front of Rebecca Talon’s desk.  He relaxed almost immediately, though, and gave her a small smile.  He said, “Hopefully I am not interrupting anything critical, Captain.”  

“Not at the moment Mr. Ming,” Rebecca replied.  “Coffee? I broke down and got into my Columbian stash.  Usually this time of day I just settle for the replicated trash.”

Marcus gave the captain a genuine smile.  He said, “I’m glad. I’m not usually a coffee drinker but I’ll give it a go.  Hopefully it won’t be too sacrilegious if I ask for a bit of cream with that.  I’m glad to be able to have it, honestly.  That away mission with the Xoval had about a million things that could have gone wrong.  It was … and is… a happy surprise that it seemed to go amazingly well in most respects.”

“Very much so,” Rebecca said. “First time since the war began the Dominion has really gotten a black eye without giving one in return.” She picked up a clean cup from the tray and flipped it upright before filling it with coffee from the pot. She set the cup in front of Marcus before sliding a small bowl of cream and sugar packets in his direction.  “I keep the bowl around for guests. If you require different options feel free to use the replicator.”

The Denver’s flight leader thanked his captain before adding some cream to his coffee.  Less than he might have otherwise figuring this blend was better than the run of the mill.  As he returned the dish to where it was he said, “That mission is something I wanted to discuss actually.  One of two things which I expect won’t take up too much of your time.” 

Rebecca set her cup down and folded her hands in front of her, “Go ahead.”

“It was a successful mission without a doubt.  The Romulans…Or Rihansu as they call themselves…were a big part of that.  I’ve not heard from intel good the data was we acquired was but Thalor was key in collecting most of the data from the Cardassian computers.  While there might be some useful information in the handful of data rods I collected I’m fairly certain that anything on those will be incidental.  That’s Intel’s bag I realize however it’d be nice to know we did some good on that end.  As much as I hate to give the Tal Shiar credit for anything but Major Tovarik was the one who ultimately destroyed the facility at the cost of his own life.  I’d presume that’s on the record but if it isn’t already there it should be,” Ming reported. 

Marcus paused for a moment then added, “The Federation team did a first rate job too.  This was the third raid I’ve been a part of during this war.  I had been tapped for a couple on the Tucson….Something to be said about being a pilot involved in martial arts since childhood I suppose.”     

“Starfleet Intelligence isn’t going to give me any details, but they are pleased with the information collected,” Rebecca said wondering why Ming was really there.

Marcus paused and thought for a moment before he spoke again, his face a mask of thought.  Once that passed he continued, “There were a couple of points of the mission that I thought I feel I should bring up. The first part is partially my own fault.  I throat punched a Cardassian Gul on the way out.  His two companions were dead without a doubt.  I employed that punch for a reason.  While it is fatal from time to time it usually interrupts the breathing enough to knock out the target rather than kill.  That is most often the case with the Cardassions I’ve employed it with during my small handful of ground ops with the Tucson.  I should have shouted for the other team members to grab him.  Mr. Thalor and I were in the lead since it was our jobs to get the shuttle launched and homeward bound so I couldn’t spare the time.  As a Gul he might have had at least some useful intel however I should have called out for someone to grab him.  I was used to the Tucson’s raiders being used to that maneuver, so I blame myself on that oversight.  It won’t happen again should I be selected for another team,” Ming admitted with obvious self-loathing for the mistake.  

After a pause he added, “The other part…I think you should be made aware of before anything comes through diplomatic channels from the Romulans or some other roundabout way.  Our Tal Shiar team member, Major Tovarik, was lost when he broke away from the team and destroyed the base, as I am sure you are aware.  His departure stemmed after Mr. Collins broke discipline.    It was decided that we would go hand to hand to avoid our phasers setting off the alarms.  He fired when there could’ve been other options.  The Major ran off to execute the sabotage which destroyed the station but before he left he told us…” Ming organized his thoughts before quote, “Note that your Mr. Collins and his reckless use of a phaser has sealed my fate. If all goes well, neither the Empire nor Starfleet will have a need to send in ships.”  

“He prefaced that by stating that he had higher orders of some sort.  No clarification beyond it came from on high.  Lieutenant Collins did a very competent job otherwise.  I am unsure if his placement / perspective lead him to believe there were other option or if it was something else however I don’t wish to assume anything nor do I want it coming back at us….Any of us,” the Flight leader and occasional special operations officer said.  

Rebecca absorbed the information and drummer hee fingers on the desk for a moment.  Clearing her throat,  “Prisoners are a liability.  Especially in this case. I would prefer you all come back alive than risk dragging a Cardassian onto the shuttle.  No Mr. Ming that waa the best course of action,  and I expect in future cases where we do not have complete control of the situation you do not try to get prsoners.

“As for Mr. Collins I am aware of his mistakes. He has already submitted a report on the incident to me. I have forwarded it to his chain command and will let Mr. Conroy handle it.

“As for the Major I don’t know what his orders were or from whom they were from. We may be allies with the Empire,  but they aren’t sharing anything with me. The ship yard was destroyed.  And sans the Major everyone returned home.  That’s a wildly successful mission.  Take it as such Mr. Ming.”

Ming studied the Denver’s CO for a moment as he mulled over her words.  After a brief moment of thought he nodded, “I do, Captain.  Point in fact I feel similarly with my flight and did with this away mission regarding bringing everyone home after a mission.    It was…difficult not being able to bring more of the Rangers home along with the Knights despite them being my old flight.  All of the unit, except the XO who came in after I left, were pilots I flew with prior to me becoming the Knight’s CO.  We got two of their pilots back which is something given the situation at Betazed.”   

He paused to suppress grief which he still felt but continued after a very brief pause, “Unfortunately one had similar injuries to Erikson as the barrage of Dominion torpedoes exploded between their fighters which overwhelmed their shields and irradiated Ranger 4 as well as Knight 5.  Starfleet Medical still has their prognosis listed as good although there is no expectation of there will or not be two full recoveries.  A nearly full recovery is a win give the alternatives though.  And the other Ranger, who I flew with previously, has taken over as Knight 5 and as my wingman.”

After a breath he added, “I would be interested in assisting in any further away missions that take place where the fighter flight won’t likely be needed.   My first duty to the Denver is to command the Knights which where I think I am best suited.  That said, with my raider experience and martial arts background, I continue to believe I can be of use in the future in that role when the opportunity arises…If circumstances dictate and Mr. Collins will have me in that role of course.”   

“Skilled pilots are always needed in situations like that.  I will keep you in mind should another covert mission come across my desk.” 

“I’d appreciate it if you would, Captain.  I hope the next mission’s extraction is a bit less rushed.   It’d have been nice to get a bit more intel.  ‘You can’t have enough intelligence information,’ my Uncle Vic often used to say after wrapping up the occasional redacted tale about his time in Starfleet Intel.  I almost chose that as a career path however I was too drawn to piloting to choose anything else.  Maybe someday my career will allow for other avenues to explore…Right now I feel I am right where I need to be however,” Ming said with a slight smile and good humor all but showing in his violet eyes.

“It’s interesting how life has a tendency to deviate from its planned course,” Rebecca mused. 

Marcus nodded in agreement and said, “So it is.  With the recent confirmation of the Quantum Laws and the knowledge of the reality of the multiverse it’s also fascinating to think that in some near parallel universe or three I might be in Commander Nalam’s role and her in mine.  It can be a bit mind bending if you think about it too much I suspect.”  

Ming smiled with that last.  He sobered up a bit and then said, “Seems like things are turning around for the good guys finally.  DS9’s been recaptured, the Xoval mission was a success and we’ve had some solid victories among the setbacks.  Hopefully things keep going more in our favor.  Knock on wood and all.”

The pilot gently tapped his knuckles against his head two times in lieu of actually knocking on wood.  He allowed himself to be silly around a select few.  He hoped the Denver’s captain recognized that last gesture as such.

“These are the dangerous times,” Rebecca said.  “We have some victories and the Dominion has pulled back to Cardassia. They are pushed up against the wall. Sure we won some battles,  but we haven’t won the war. Don’t forget that. Hopefully this is a turning point and we can put this whole affair to bed soon, but time will only tell.”

Ming nodded and said, “I’m not quite popping the cork of the sparkling wine yet, Captain.  When the time comes, however, I aim to be first in line to do so.  We’ve lost so many good people…Family, friends and colleagues.   Wondering what it’ll be like to rebuild our lives with the gaping holes and deep wounds once the chips are finally down.  We’ll do our damnedest but beyond that is just conjecture.”  

He looked out the porthole for a moment admiring the view as he thought.  After a moment he said, “Someone quite special to me recently asked me to survive this hellish war and to live the best life I can afterwards.  Almost sage like advice we all could use I think  ….  Anyway, I suspect I’ve taken up enough of your time.  You know where to find me if I am needed, Captain.  Just keep me posted.” The commanding officer of the Knights gave Rebecca Talon a genuine smile as he finished that last thought.  His tone was lighter than it might have been otherwise making it more of an honest affirmation more than anything else.  

Rebecca dug into her desk and pulled out a cloth bag the size of a fist and tossed it to Ming, “We can’t have our lead pilot drinking that replicated swill can we?”

Ming accepted the bag and looked at it.  A smile dawned on his face as he did so.  He said simply but sincerely, “Thank you, Captain Talon.”

She smiled, “You are dismissed Mr. Ming.”

Sickbay

“Of course I’m a bloody Doctor, go help someone who needs it.” Lavender shoo’d a junior Doctor away and with the view of a mirror starting fixing the various small injuries and bruises, mostly around her face and arms. Her wrecked uniform jacket and undershirt sat discarded on the side, from the waist up she was dressed only in a suitably modest sports bra so she could see everything and fix everything. She was dirty as hell and probably stank but the medical staff could just deal with it. Fix first, then sonic shower. Slowly the purple marks faded, the scars and wounds were gone. Prisoner 3436 was dying, Lavender was starting to come back. Images flashed through her mind of how she got each scratch, bruise and cut as each was remedied by her expert hand.

“Best to go easy on the doctor, you should have a full workover anyways after that ordeal,” Riandri said from one of the beds nearby. 

Lavender stopped what she was doing long enough to peer over at the Blonde. The LtCmdr pips on Riandri’s neck curbed Lavender’s tongue. Slightly. “There are plenty of people who need a Doctor’s attention in here Commander,” she said as she resumed her work, laden with matter-of-fact, “I am not one of them.” She stopped again, and looked over, again, this time with a less testy look on her now bruise-free face. “I’d see to you myself if I weren’t in need of four concurrent sonic showers. What are you in here for?”

Cheon stood in the doorway to sickbay for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked directly at the doc. 

“It’s getting a little crowded around here,” Dr. Lorsa observed. The Bajoran doctor looked Cheon up and down. “What seems to be your problem?” She turned her attention back to Lavender,  “You were in a POW camp only the Prophets know how long. You stay right there. I don’t care if you are a doctor or outrank me. I am the physician on duty at the moment and that means this is my sickbay.”

“Alright, alright.” Lavender held up her hands in submission. The tool was placed on the side by her uniform and she hopped up onto an adjacent bio bed.

Riandri looked over at the XO and smiled before her faced turned down, “Commander, I wanted to say thank you for coming to rescue me but no one knew I was even gone. I am sorry, some intelligence officer I am getting replaced like that.”

The com chirped, “Commander Cheon,” the voice of the duty officer said, “Doctor Kyo is on subspace for you.”

“I got this Commander,” Efe said. “Go talk to your wife.”  She didn’t wait for his response and turned to Lavender, but she heard the twin hisses of the opening and closing of the sickbay door. “Now for you.” Efe consulted her tricorder. “You seem fine,  but I expect you know what I’m going to say.”

“No wrestling Klingons for forty eight hours? Well it’ll be tough…” Lavender joked. While she seemed calm on the outside Lavender was anything but. Being incarcerated had done a number on her mentally. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle but it was going to take some time to work through everything that had happened. For now it was all jokes, sarcasm and deflection, i.e. a normal day for Lavender Haigh. The M’talan gave Efe a big toothy grin to show the two missing teeth along her top left gum.

“Could you fab me some replacements for these? My smile is one of my most attractive features,” she drawled, intending Efe to be in on the joke.

Efe leaned in to examine the missing teeth in detail, “I am an orthopedic surgeon not a dentist. But how hard can it be?” She quipped.  

“Release me from this invalid bed and I’ll do it myself…” Lavender suggested mischievously. Her attention was drawn by the X.O. who spoke up.

“Doctor, am I free to leave? It has been a rather trying day and I have a lot to get caught up on,” Riandri said.

“Take it easy for the next few days,” Efe said to Riandri,  but other than that you are free.”

Riandri nodded in thanks, “Appreciate it Doc. I best get back to it, reviewing all my imposter’s work on the PADD is not very productive.” With that, she swung her legs off the bed stood up and made her way to the door out of sickbay.

The doors shut and the X.O. gone Lavender peered at Efe with her commonly used accusatory narrow-eyed pout.

“You are released Doctor,” the Bajoran said. “I would like a follow-up in a few days if you are still on the ship. In the meantime if you want me to replace those missing teeth we can do it at that time, or you could see if the ship’s dentist is available.” 

Lavender nodded, and grabbed the remnants of her old uniform. She wasn’t going to put that back on for any amount of latinum. “Four sonic showers and sleep for a week, then!” She exclaimed. And if anyone wakes me, oh they will be dead.” She continued to speak to nobody in particular with accompanying animated hand gestures as she left sickbay and headed off down the corridor. “I know that medically speaking someone is either dead or not dead but really, anyone who wakes me well actually be three or four kinds of dead all at the same time…”

Armory…

Collins sat at his desk, trying to write his report for the captain. It was not going well. He jeopardized the mission and the team. Out of instinct, he killed two Jem’hadar soldiers. It was supposed to be a covert mission, but his actions endangered the mission and the team. 

He wrote up the report the best he can, and included a transfer request, and failing that, his resignation.

He finished the report, and sent it to the captain’s computer. Then, he waited.

Lounge…

Cezear sat at the bar swirling what was left in his glass. “Where did we mess up? That should have been a quick in and out mission.” he muttered to him self as he took another sip and looked around the lounge.

“You didn’t mess up. Shit goes sideways,” Jeter said from behind Cezear as he put his hand on the younger officers shoulder. “Reflect on what happened but don’t blame yourself for it.”

Collins left the armory and entered the lounge, where he saw Cezear and Jeter sitting at the bar. He turned and headed to a table near the back of the bar, hoping to be out of sight.

Ensign Aoife McKenzie saw the clustering of Cezear and Collins and approached. “Gentlemen,” She greeted.

“Ensign,” Jeter said with a nod. “How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain,” Aoife said. She laughed, “My dad would add, ‘No one would listen anyway’.”

“Ensign” as he put his now empty glass down on the bar top. “Guess your right, Jeter. “

“So, what’s the occasion? Celebrating or commiserating?” Aoife asked as she slid into an empty seat.

Cezear turned to let ok at Aoife. “The later, but Jeter here helped put it into perspective for me.”

She frowned, “Sorry to hear that sir.”

Collins ordered a drink from a passing waiter, and some food. He saw the others at the bar, talking and laughing…he wasn’t in the mood for either.

“Mr. Collins,” Aoife shouted seeing the man enter and sit alone. “Join us and help us drown our misery.”

Collins stood up from his table, picked up his drink and walked over to the others. He looked at the waiter, “Another please.” then sat down. “Not much to celebrate concerning our last mission.” He was still sure he was going to be transferred or cashed out of the service.

Jeter cocked an eyebrow at that, “Really? I would think the rescue of Federation, Klingon and Romulan personnel along with Cardassian whom the Dominion deemed as enemies was a win, not to mention the destruction of a large shipyard. Commander Nalam is still getting back on her feet but I am sure she will find some interesting intel on the files we retrieved.” He paused to take a drink, “It was a tough mission and I do wish it had gone differently at points but it was a success for sure.”

Collins took a sip of his drink. “When I killed those two Jem Hadar put the mission as well as the team in jeopardy! We easily could have been overrun by the Jem Hadar!” He downed the remainder of his drink. “Another drink!”

“Mistakes happen,” Aoife observed.  “They don’t call war chaos for nothing.”

“Well,” Collins drained his drink, “mistakes get you killed.”

“Mistakes also create growth,” Aoife said. 

Rebecca’s boots sounded softly upon the carpet outside the rows of guest quarters.  She glanced down at the pad in her hand to consult the information before stopping at a door and pressing the chime.

On the other side of the door Doctor Lavender Haigh placed her pad down on the little table by the chair and moved toward the door, pressing the manual release. Teal and red uniforms came face-to-face across the threshold and Lavender looked at the woman in front of her with barely any expression at all, save a couple of fluttery blinks from her false lashes in the new, bright light of the corridor. The purple in the hair that sat around her shoulders clashed violently with Rebecca’s.

“Captain. Can I help you?”

Rebecca nodded, “I think so… I hope so.”

Lavender couldn’t help but look mildly surprised by this. As far as she was concerned she was just a passenger on this voyage, being taken back to some Starfleet outpost somewhere for the reassignment she had been headed for when her previous ship was destroyed. She supposed it might be some medical thing, perhaps having a Doctor about who wasn’t on staff could be useful. She nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Well, our former Chief Medical Officer turned out to be a Cardassian spy.  I am sure you met Doctor Lorsa. She’s a fine doctor, but she’s young and as a orthopedic surgeon she’s not exactly a generalist. I’m thinking you might be looking for a job. What do you say? You want the CMO job?”

More blinking. If the Captain showing up at Lavender’s door wasn’t surprising enough… This didn’t strike the M’talan as a conversation one had in a corridor. She watched a crewman walking by.

“Come in for a minute.” Lavender gestured with her head and turned without really waiting for a response. The quarters were very standard for guest quarters and were lacking in any personalisation as was to be expected for temporary accommodation. It was meticulously tidy, not because Lavender was a tidy person by habit, more because she felt that a Lieutenant Commander would not and should not have messy quarters. Next to the pad Lavender had been reading on the table was the only personal touch, a baby plant of some kind. Lavender took her seat again and offered the one adjacent to the Captain.

“Sorry, you’ll have to give my brain a moment to catch up with my ears,” Lavender drawled, wrapping her spidery hands around a hot mug of something. “Sorry, no manners. Can I get you a drink?”

“Thank you, but no. I’m on something like my tenth cup of coffee for today.” Rebecca replied.   She glanced around the quarters with her hands clasped behind her back.  She was an engineer by trade, but since the war she had steadily acquired a more military demeanor. 

The only nod to any personalisation in the room was a small juvenile potted plant that sat on the little table next to where Lavender had been sitting. It seemed to have pride of place, like it was being watched, or nurtured. Otherwise the room was entirely standard, to be expected for temporary quarters. Lavender seemed to be going over things in her mind, she looked towards Rebecca but not at her, bobbing her head in a sort of mental ritual of acceptance, her mind processing the request presented.

Lavender had been labouring under the impression her first Chiefdom would be on a ship or facility somewhat less modern and prestigious than a Nova class. Her mind was committed to the chain of events that had her being dropped somewhere safe, a starbase perhaps, for reassignment and processing, at least a brief respite for some counselling and assessment before returning to the fray. She decided to air her thoughts to the other woman present.

“I figured Starfleet would have me riding some junk Miranda for the rest of the war,” she explained in her typically back-streets manner. “You know, drop me off at starbase whatever, get assessed, processed, distressed, various other things ending in ‘essed’ and eventually show up on some rig running supplies to the front treating grazed knuckles and insomnia. So this is a surprise.” There was a brief pause. “I mean I guess you read my dirty secrets in my personnel file and think I’m up to the task, right?”

“I looked it over but honestly I’m not a doctor. The fact of the matter is is we need someone to lead the medical department, and you are the most qualified person on this ship to do that.” 

Rebecca crossed her arms and stared out the window for a long moment. “This is the nature of war.  It tests officers and the cream rises to the top. You’re never ready when this is pushed on you.  You think I was ready to be the XO of this ship after Wolf 359 broke me?  I had left Starfleet,  but I got pulled back in to fight the war with the Klingons. You think I was ready to take over this ship when the last captain was killed at Tyra?  I get your hesitancy,  but your services are needed. You’ll either bend or you will break.”

Lavender couldn’t argue with that. She liked a person to be direct. She respected the Captain now because of it, not because of her rank, she respected the rank pretty much no matter what, but now she respected Rebecca, because she knew her a tiny bit and that tiny bit, she liked. The cards were down, the stakes were laid bare. Lavender had a small idea what the ship and it’s crew had been through. This wasn’t touchy-feely Earth mollycoddling, this was the Real Thing. That suited Lavender down to the ground.

“Not going to Starbase, no processing, Doctoring here, run the department, don’t screw up. Gotcha.” Lavender returned. “I’m not going to lie I’m not in the best shape right now after the whole Dominion Prison episode, but who is? I’m not some mother figure who’s gonna dote on the kiddies, you’re gonna get complaints about me. But I can run your Sickbay and do it well. Just because I figured I’d get a shit deal doesn’t mean I won’t step up when a good one lands in my lap.” She stood and moved towards the Captain, her hands still clasping the hot mug, and regarded her new C.O.

“I want the job.”

“It’s yours, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a conversation with the counsellor. Being a POW is something I have not experienced,  but I cannot imagine it doing anything for your mental health. What is the old adage? Physician heal thyself?”

“Yes ma’am, I will.” Lavender wasn’t the sort of Doctor to avoid the treatment she needed. She had plenty of bravado but not the sort that couldn’t admit she had problems.

Rebecca nodded, “Very well. I will make a note in the ship’s log.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Captain,” Lavender responded with her typical levity. “You’re welcome to stay a while and get acquainted but I’d put Latinum on you being far too busy.”

Rebecca smiled, “Not at the moment. All my reports to Command are done, the XO is running things, and I’ve solved the CMO issue.  However,” she looked around.  “I’ll let you get settled.  Contact Commander Jeter for assignment to crew quarters.  However,  if you are comfortable here I think an exception can be made. We probably won’t be getting too many guests anytime soon.”

“Actually,” Lavender said quickly, “I’d like to get an assignment. Makes it feel… official. Oh and if there’s a strange power drain from crew quarters it’s me replicating literally everything I own that the Jem’Hadar blew up from my last ship. Fortunately I saved and backed up all my patterns. The orchids I’ll have to grow from scratch though. Took me years. Fuckers…”

“That is… unfortunate.  I have never been very good at growing things.  Much better at killing them if we’re being honest. In high school I killed a cactus.” Lavender smiled and took a slug from her mug.

“Orchids are easy,” she said smacking her lips a little from the drink, “humidity, some light, water them once every three weeks. The tricky part is getting them to grow the direction you want. Kinda like children. You have kids, don’t you?”

“Yes. Twins, and a step son.” Rebecca said with a smile despite herself. “The twins are here with me… Ethan…” she hesitated and swallowed.  “Ethan was on Starbase 75 when Betazed fell to the Dominion.  I don’t know the fate of him or his father.”

Lavender grimmaced. “Brutal.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Caring about ones’ family was not something she could relate to.

“To put it mildly,” Rebecca said. “How about you?”

Lavender took her place in her chair once again and looked at her baby orchid for a moment. “My family are all dead, in Prison or total deadbeats… …who by now are probably in prison.” She said, the unfeeling matter-of-fact in her voice almost certainly a deflection of any pain these facts may have brought her. “All my friends on the Manitoba were killed, never met anyone who wanted me around long enough for kids. I’d be a crap mom anyway. More the mildly-psychotic cool Aunt kinda vibe I’d say.” She looked at the Captain again, her face unreadable. “Not that I have any brothers or sisters. My asshole murdering father might have spawned something by now, not that I give a shit.” This sat in the air a moment and Lavender’s lip-rings danced as she wiggled them with her tongue.

“So happy families, you might say, all kindness love and joy,” she intoned with trowels of construction-grade sarcasm.

Rebecca smirked, “I can only imagine. Well I have had officers above and below me over the years who didn’t have a family or one that was a problem and we became their surrogate family.” She shrugged, “We do kind of function as a family.  We don’t get to choose each other and depend on them for our survival.”

“Very wholesome…” Lavender commented, perhaps slightly mockingly, before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat. “I told you you’d get complaints about me… I’ll look out for you all, don’t worry. Just don’t expect a pleasant smile and a chit-chat first thing in the morning…”

Rebecca shrugged,  “Not everyone has a cheery disposition.  As long as you do your job you won’t get any complaints from me.”

Lavender nodded once.

“Thank you Captain. If you don’t mind I’ll see about that quarters allocation now, I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Rebecca said. She headed for the exit. Pausing at the open door she looked back with a wink. “Welcome to the family Doc. I’ll see you around.” With that the captain was gone.

Lavender watched the door for a few moments in thought, smiled, and went back to her pad.

Lavender sighed and stared at the ceiling. Then at the walls. Then at her bedside shelf. Then at the ceiling. As a Doctor, she new that what she should be doing right now was sleeping. She had been through it in the Jem’hadar prison, but tired, exhausted even as she was, she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t even be alone in her quarters. Every time she closed her eyes, images of her incarceration flashed in her mind, of her beatings, being thrown in solitary, other prisoners being struck, tortured and murdered. She swept out of bed and to the mirror. A familiar face met her.

She had barely recognized herself upon coming back from her ordeal, the bruises, missing teeth, unkempt hair, but that was all righted now. She pushed the images of her post-prison appearance from her mind and spent a few minutes on a full face of makeup. It was a soothing routine to blend the smoky eyes, to pop her lip rings from one side to the other so she could apply her favourite black lipstick. It was a comfort blanket, it made her feel like herself. She pressed false eyelashes on with a precision of many years’ practice. Hair brushed and sprayed and her nightie swapped for a fresh teal uniform she headed out for the one place she knew people would be around, but not necessarily in close proximity. The Mile High Club.

A low hubbub met her as the doors swooshed open and brought immediate relief, relief augmented by Grappas she ordered from the barman and took to a corner of the club along with a PADD. There she placed herself on a comfy seat, feet up on the table, took a pull of liquor and put her head down into her PADD so her long black and purple hair fell down to obscure most of her face.

On deck three, Arin arched her back, stretching from the prolonged time she’d needed to finish the post-mission log, the post-flight check-up on the runabout she’d flown, and, of course, the first order of business had been the debriefing.While she wasn’t physically tired, the flesh orb between her ears felt melted. Tired enough that when she got into the turbolift, she’d forgotten to stop by her quarters for some of her stashed whiskey.

Still in uniform, Arin heads behind the bar. “Stay out of my way Lyle. Not the day to try worthless synthehol whiskey trial two hundred forty-seven.” She said, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I want a real drink. Nothing finessed by circuitry and EPS conduits.”Spotting a bottle of light amber Lyle had just put back, she pulled it out.

“Stop hiding the good stuff.” She didn’t remember ever having Grappa, but she had heard of it. Opening the bottle, she sniffed tentatively. First, Arin poured a few fingers into a brandy snifter, then swirled around the liquid, finally sampling it. Her brow wrinkled a bit, then relaxed. “Get me a large pot of coffee and make it light roast, please, Luv.” She took the bottle with her. Now, looking around the room, her eyes locked on a new face. No, it wasn’t new. Her brow furrowed again as Arin approached the woman. As she got closer, the realization dawned on her. “Miss Haigh. Far nicer than the last time I saw you. How are you feeling?”

Lavender’s eyes (or the one that was visible from behind her hair) flicked up to the Orion, but otherwise, she didn’t move.

“Lavender. Or ma’am. Or don’t bother,” she said slightly severely and necked the shot that was resting on the seat next to her and placed the glass on the table. It was then her gaze fell on the bottle of Grappa. Maybe the Orion wasn’t so bad if that’s what she drank. And she was Orion, probably not stuffy either. “Doctor is just about acceptable, never call me Sir and ”Lav” gets you a night on a hypospray cocktail chosen by one of the ship’s children, if we have any,” she continued, looking around the Club as if to search for one. “Take a seat,” she offered, removing her feet from the table and sitting up straighter, “and tell me if you’re supposed to drink this out of one of those fancy glasses, because I’m a Tarkalean Sheep-herder if I know…”

Slipping into the chair, put down her drink and refilled her table partner’s shot. “The glass is relevant but damned if I know. It smelled like it had some legs as it were. I took a shot. A bit sweet for my tastes, but I bet this makes an Italian coffee? She put her nose into the snifter. ”It has some interesting notes. Usually, for me, it’s single malt Irish whiskey.” Arin slugged half of the two fingers, much like the shot Lavender had taken. She inhaled after swallowing. “Oi…that has a bite. Sour plums, or even rhubarb, but a honey finish.”Lyle came over with a large carafe of coffee and two mugs. Pouring Arin’s coffee as she liked it, Arin took a sip, with the aftertaste of the grappa still in her mouth. Her face twisted in curious expression as she added. “I bet you could rim a  margarita glass with a mix of espresso and milk powders.” “Sadly, Lavender is too long. Ender isn’t a good doctor’s nickname, Doc. Need something else. Middle name?”

Lavender’s expression remained as cool as the surface of Andoria, save her eyes that narrowed slightly.

“I’m sorry my name doesn’t meet with your preferences, Lieutenant,” she returned, “three syllables too many for a pilot?” She wasn’t ready to discuss the subject of middle names and not having one with a new person. And she certainly didn’t like nicknames. Still, she appreciated the brass of her drinking companion apparent. Lavender found weakness of character very off-putting. As a symbol of her acceptance she downed the refill Arin had provided her.

“This is the closest thing I can find to the rubbish we brewed ourselves when I was young,” she explained casually, regarding the now-empty shot glass in her hand. “I’ll leave the interesting notes, single malt and honey finish to the experts.” Her eyes darted from the glass back to the Orion and the glass ended back on the table again. Lavender’s lip-rings danced as she manipulated them with her tongue. It was a nervous habit. Perhaps if she changed the subject the nickname concept would be forgotten.

“Expertise acquired in Ireland, I suppose?” She asked. Arin smiled, “It’s too many syllables at the moment, yes. Grew up there for a while, so when you have to say Muckanaghederdauhaulia, which is some weird marsh. It can be a bit much.” She tipped another shot into Lavender’s glass, refilled her own, and then raised it in a toast. “To Lavender, the fact that you are still giving back crap bodes well for your psyche. Besides, do you know how much I got teased being a little green person in Ireland?!” Downing her own double shot, Arin shuddered as it hit her. “That’s more like it.” Picking up her coffee, she sipped it. As the bittersweet coffee hit her lips, she could feel her shoulders relaxed. “Thank God for coffee and dopamine. I don’t say this often, and I am NOT hitting on you, to be crystal clear. You are one of the few women that could give me a run for my money.” Arin smiled genuinely.

Lavender laughed at the mention of little green people in Ireland. It was nice to laugh again. She thought perhaps it was the first time since her release. Jones had the Irish charm, that was for sure. She joined in the toast a little reluctantly but decided to go with it anyway and drop another shot without any apparent physical reaction, as if it were water. She shrugged.

“Giving back crap is my default Jones. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she explained, brought rather more at ease by the shenanigans of the woman opposite. “I doubt I could match you drink for drink. Being a boring medical professional for just a moment, body mass does come into it.” She paused a moment and then continued in tones laden down with sarcasm. “And no, I’m not calling you fat, I’m just really committed to this bony high goth aesthetic.”

Arin looked over and stopped for a second. She smirked. “No Luv. You misunderstood me. Few people can drink me under the table. I meant your smoldering eyes and sharp angular features.” She said, winking. It was good to see Lavender at least outwardly relaxing. “Lyle. The Madeira bottle, please.” Arin asked as the server walked by.  Returning with a green-topped bottle, Arin opened the bottle and poured each of them three fat fingers of the whiskey. She noticed Lyle hanging around. Looking up, she said, “Fine,” as a third glass appeared. She poured him a one and a bit extra. “Remember what I said. I find out more than five milliliters goes into that computer, I’ll skin you.”“That grappa isn’t going to last too long at this rate, so think of this as reinforcements. It’s different but hopefully enjoyable.” Arin took a large sip from the glass.  OOC: I’m not a single malt guy, but Tyrconnell, I can drink straight. I found that impressive.

The compliment was met with the raising of one very thin and shapely black eyebrow. Arin sure had a lot of confidence, Lavender had to give her that, but she was also part-Orion female and the two generally came hand in hand as far as the Doctor could make out.

“It’s a lot less rock and roll under all this paint let me tell you,” she commented. I think there’s a human under there but she’s not been seen in a while…” She picked up the new glass and knocked it back with a grimace.

“Ugh, spicy.” She commented after a moment. Lavender’s looks were often polarising, it was a love-hate thing. Some had labelled her unprofessional because she didn’t adhere to the common warm earthy tones most used in makeup, red lipstick, brown eyeshadow and the like that had been the norm of the 2360s. Most of those people thought all Doctors came from privileged backgrounds. Still, she did at least eschew the black lipstick for duty shifts, as much to not scare her patients as anything else. Now she was a Lieutenant Commander of course her critics could eat it. A conventional Doctor she was not. She didn’t even like the term Doctor, even though she had earned it fair and square. The unconventional Doctor regarded her drinking companion with the same placid coolness as before. 

“You drink this shit for fun?” She asked, looking at the empty Whisky glass and back to Arin with the smallest of smirks. It was a kindly ribbing. Doubling down, she countered with, “No, I sip it to enjoy it,” the green woman offered with a sly smirk. “Though I can find some grape juice and torpedo coolant to mix since you like to be edgy.” 

Arin drained her own glass, then refilled both of them. ”Please don’t feel obligated to drink my whiskey. Just leave it. I’ll make sure it doesn’t go to waste. However, you might be one of those militant socialist types. Someone who uses ice or saints preserve us, water.” Years of practice around her sarcastic family allowed her to say that with a nearly straight face. 

Lavender laughed so loudly at Arin’s Torpedo coolant comment some of the other patrons in the Mile High Club turned to look at them. 

“You’re alright Jones, you know that?” She replied animatedly, her black lips pulled into a permanent smile. “Why bother with drinking it at all?” She continued with a smirk and a wide theatrical shrug. “I’ll just grab a hypospray from sickbay and we’ll shoot up, have ourselves a real good time. I’m not wasting liquor though, where I grew up that would get you some shit let me tell you. Water though… is actually a good call. Not in the liquor but in us. You‘ll probably be fine with your Irishness but I’ll be on the floor before long if I’m not careful. And that’s not a great look for the new C.M.O., even if she does have ‘smoldering eyes and sharp angular features’, no good to anyone if those features are face down in the carpet.” 

Lavender signalled Lyle and waved him over to order some water.  While Arin could put her fair share of alcohol, this was a full handful and change of shots in a short time. She asked Lyle to add steak fries with dipping sauce and nachos for the table, it might be a good idea to get some food into both of them. “Lavender, so what is a good time that doesn’t involve being bollocksed or medical shenanigans? Dancing, atmospheric flying, and not bad in a real kitchen. My dad would have me grounded for not being able to cook. Self-sufficiency was taught and adhered to.”

“A good time…” Lavender rubbed her finger-tips together idly as she mulled over the question. “Believe it or not the Skeleton does like to eat. When I first got to Earth as a grubby wide-eyed child I wanted to try every cuisine in the Federation. Heh, probably in the Galaxy. Still do. I’ll eat anything, drink anything. Don’t get a lot of free time though, from what I’ve seen there’s two ways to be a not-shit M.O. in Starfleet, be a crazy-brain prodigy or just commit hard. Keep up the reading, keep up the research, know everything you can. You never know when someone’s life will depend on it. Medical journals with a scented candle and a cosy blanket? That’s a Rock and Roll evening, Jones, let me tell you.” The sarcasm could be ladled on like gravy.

Lavender took a small drink of the Whisky. “You get asked out on a million dates, right? Say they’re not a creep and you dig, what do you cook them?” She asked.

“For me, mood plays into it. That book and candle, warm fire. Big bowl of colcannon with extra butter. Hard to go wrong with bacon, taters, butter, and cabbage.  A snuggle night.” She paused, and that smirk was back. “Now, if things actually progress in a somewhat more heated manner. Rare but it happens. Tacos, nachos. I finally managed to teach that miserable pile of wall-circuits to whip up a decent cilantro cream sauce. Romance…steak, lobster, cheesecake…otherwise, what’s the point of not going over the top then? I can’t indulge. I bloody well think not..”

“And no, not a million. Bugger off, it’s been a while.” Arin smiled at Lavender. When I was sixteen and started developing, I had a good friend. He grew roses. On Valentine’s Day one year, the young man brought in a rose for every girl in his classes. I just happened to be in his first class. I was sixteen then, and when I told him it was the first flower anyone had ever given me, he was stunned. We talked later, straight up told me because my beauty was intimidating. I started to open up and take things less nervously. 

Lavender’s interest was physically piqued by the mention of colcannon. 

“My turn to be not hitting on you Jones, but I’d like a plate of that Colcannon one day or other, I don’t think I’ve ever had that one , whatever it is. But yeah I get it. Dumb racial stereotypes aside you could be intimidating, especially to the grew-up-in-the-fleet types. I probably brushed by more Orions when I was a kid than they’ve ever seen. No big. I just hope you don’t get any shit for it and the Federation ideology actually works, but I doubt it, somehow.” This statement was laden with a healthy dose of cynicism, but she tempered slightly as the food arrived and she helped herself to a couple of steak fries, popping them in her mouth expertly so as to avoid the black lipstick.

Arin laughed. “People suck. I try not to waste the energy, but sometimes, it just pays to vent.” Then, took a moment to dip a few steak fries into the slightly sweet-hot cocktail sauce.”I’m ready for whatever you want to do. Howl at the moon, start an epic bar fight, or a bowl of comfort food and a thick wool blanket on the overstuffed couch. Remember, not only am I Irish and far too comfortable in the role of conspirator but pirates run on both sides of my familial tree.”

“Good to know Jones, good to know. If I want to start anything you’ll be the first recruit,” Lavender commented coolly. “But given all of this responsibility and adult Commander shit going on, a minor disagreement is about as much fun as I’m gonna get,” she added wryly, and took a couple more fries.

Arin stood up and took off her uniform jacket, leaving the tight-fitting t-shirt underneath. The combination of grappa, whiskey, and food all raised her core temperature. Now that she had at least a few things in her stomach, Arin poured herself another two fingers of whiskey. “Haigh,” Arin said, mimicking how Lavender had said her last name. “Comfort and fun can come in many forms.” 

Lavender watched the Orion with more interest than she might have expected of herself. Jones was kinda hot, Lavender surprised herself by thinking. The same black eyebrow was raised again at the mention of her surname. “Alright, fine. What do you prefer to be called, Jones?” Lavender asked lazily, in between chews

.Arin noticed the woman’s black lips. “Ask me that in the morning. Preferably over a big bowl of colcannon with extra butter.” Her inhibitions dampened at this point, Arin wanted to comfort the woman. This wasn’t her at all but, the action just felt right. Also, of course, she admitted to herself that she thought Lavender was hot. Leaning forward, she planted a tender but firm kiss on Lavender’s mouth, taking a nibble at the lower lip. Lavender tensed up at first. She hadn’t been expecting it, but never one to back down, she returned the kiss for a few moments until they parted again.

Lavender regarded the Orion with narrowed eyes. “Black lipstick suits you, Jones.” She quipped, her face somewhat unreadable. Was she mad or wasn’t she? The accusatory look lingered for a moment until Lavender spoke again.“So, your place or mine?”

Vice-like fingers gripped Lavender by the arms. The grey scaly hands of the Jem’Hadar guided her, dragged her, tripped her roughly down corridors of metal and harsh lighting. She tasted blood. Her tongue probed for the source. A loose tooth. Lavender manipulated it with her tongue and spat it out. It didn’t take much effort. Her jaw ached. Her cheeks ached. Her scalp screamed as her hair was tugged continually by the strands that were welded to her shoulders by the soldier’s grip. Lavender knew better to ask where they were going or mouth off any more. Damn her pride, damn her inability to just shut the hell up and watch. One thing made all of this bearable, she had saved that woman from a beating. Lavender didn’t know her name. She had dropped something, damaged something and was due for punishment but the fool hero Lavender Haigh had to interject and now her face had borne the brunt of the Dominion’s dissatisfaction. She was forcefully stumbled to a large door with only one small window. She fought. She couldn’t help it. Her mind screamed at her not to, it would only bring more pain but her limbs acted on their own, fuelled by subconscious dread of solitary. A  collection of five titanium knuckles saw an end to this and Lavender was thrown through the door onto the hard floor, jarring her knees so that all she could do was roll over and whimper. The door began to close.

“No…” she managed to mumble, the blood oozing from her mouth making the sensation of speech entirely new and harrowing. But nothing could stop the clang of metal on metal.

Lavender writhed in bed, whimpering and making small noises, the occasional word got through, nothing intelligible but what was obvious to anyone was that she was in distress. 

On the right side of the bed, Arin, was curled up, the nearby fan blowing air on her face. The bed moved. At the brink of consciousness, she wasn’t sure what was going on. The fog of sleep was clouding her thinking. She realized she wasn’t alone. Seeming to take an eternity, facts of the meeting started to come back to her. The whimpering and slight movement made her roll over. Her Aunt Jennifer sometimes had night terrors. Reaching out to shake her gently, while saying her name, did nothing.  

Ramping up the volume, she physically turned the woman in her bed. Still no change. Switching tactics, she in normal voice, in a slightly forceful tone, said, “Lavender.” This was enough seemingly to bring her to consciousness. Lavender’s eyes opened but she was not removed from the experience in her mind, not yet. She looked at Arin, terrified and reacted as a prisoner would when confronted with a strange person in close proximity. Their eyes locked, for just a moment, in a way one is taught never to do with a Dog or a Wolf because it is perceived by the animal as a threat. Just by seeing Lavender’s expression anyone could have predicted what happened next. Lavender scrambled out of the bed with animalistic instinctual movements that were not her own. She put as much distance as she could between them, her back slamming against the opposite wall of she room, her hands grasping for a purchase that wasn’t there, her face contorted in fear, her breathing fast and flighty.

Pulling in legs slowly under her, Arin spoke in higher soft tones. “Doc, I think maybe the Grappa went to your head.” She knew better what was actually going on with the woman, but pissing her off might wake her up. What she wanted to do was hold her and remind her everything was fine, but she also didn’t want a right cross to the face, so she moved slowly, with no overt movement. Walking over to the replicator, she said. “Computer, two bowls of Colcannon, extra butter, and a mug of hot chocolate. Once replicated she moved them to the bed and patted nearby for Lavender to join her.”Come on Lavender.” She pulled the blanket nearer to her.

Lavender stayed in place for a few moments, her breathing slowing. She stared at Arin and swallowed, hard. No blood. A tiny, barely perceptible change in her gaze seemed to indicate she was working out what was going on. Lavender was used to having bad dreams, she’d had them every night since being rescued but waking up in an unfamiliar place and having someone staring at her was enough to promote the experience from confusing to downright scary. She took a step forward as Arin moved to the replicator and rubbed the back of her head where it had hit the wall, taking a seat in the corner and burying her face in her hands.

“Sleeping in an unfamiliar place when you have post-traumatic stress was a fucking stupid move,” she acknowledged, still staring at the carpet with her cheeks resting in the palms of her hands. “But I was so wasted…” She had at least had enough forethought to at least partially re-dress herself before submitting to the alcohol and exercise induced tiredness, exactly because of an eventuality like this. She stared at her bare legs and the metallic lilac polish on her toenails, grateful for the black boyshorts and sports bra she had on. “Do you have a robe or something…?” Walking to her closet, Arin pulled out a robe. It was one of the few things she insisted not be replicated. While it could do soft fabrics, it would not come close to the soft, warm Black Watch pattern flannel. She held it out so Lavender could slip into it. As she did so, she offered, “Guess that means you’re going to be a regular.” She offered, kissing Lavender on the forehead. 

“It just means I don’t want to be sat here in my underwear while I’m going through something,” Lavender returned testily as she secured the robe. But she thanked Arin for it anyway and wrapped it around herself, breaking away quickly from the proximity of another person. She crossed to the nightstand and grabbed the same wipes she’d replicated to remove her black lipstick the night before and started to remove what was probably horribly smudged eye makeup, revealing the purest form of Lavender anyone was likely to see. Memories from the night before appeared in her mind of her wiping her black lipstick off her own face before wiping it off Arin’s too. They displaced the images of the Jem’hadar. For that she was grateful.

“Sorry,” she added after a moment, turning to Arin with one eye now completely natural. “I.. don’t know. I don’t know anything just now. I’d kill for a night of good sleep. That’s the only reason I was at the Mile High Club in the fucking first place, so I could get exhausted enough or drunk enough to sleep without having to fail at dealing with the silence of my quarters. Don’t get me wrong though Jones, no regrets. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised an Orion has talent in the bedroom, or is that racial profiling?” The layers of bravado that characterised Lavender were starting to form over the rawness of her nightmare. 

Digging into a nearby drawer, Arin fished out an oversized t-shirt to put under the robe. Black oddly enough. It would be a long sleep shirt for Lavender. “I wasn’t thinking this was going to be a ‘settle-down and have-kids moment’. No harm, no foul. We’re both adults”. Walking back to the replicator, she ordered a mug of double and sweet coffee with milk. “I was and continue to be interested in your well being, and well. As for racial profiling, was that my instinct or happenstance? Regardless, it was fun.” She added a cold pitcher of water to the table as well with glass. “Now eat your colcannon. Cold mashed potatoes, bacon and cabbage…not my thing.”

Lavender opened her mouth to give Arin both barrels, but the words never came. What are you now, my mom? Eat my vegetables like a good girl….? The words were on the tip of her tongue but she never said them. The more reasonable, methodical Doctor in Lavender implored her ego to back off for just a moment and analyse. Yes, she was scared. Yes she was vulnerable. But could Arin have done anything to help her with that? The Orion wasn’t a mind-reader. What Arin was doing was exactly what Lavender had asked. First, Colcannon. Lavender had asked to try it then night before. Second, when Lavender asked for a covering, Arin gave her one and had now produced what she assumed was something Lavender could slip on for modesty and to help her feel less vulnerable. It was black to boot. Lavender threw a blackened makeup wipe on the night stand and acquired another for the other eye.

“Not my thing either,” she agreed. “Arin, I…” she paused not knowing how to continue. The makeup wipe in her hand became similarly blackened as Arin glanced her way. “I had fun last night.” The words were said with a smile. It was almost warm. Lavender figured she was at her most vulnerable right now, no war paint, her post-prison difficulties laid out, why not see if this woman was something a bit different and just commit to being vulnerable?

“If you think you can deal with me being kinda messed up… I… don’t have anyone. No family, they’re all dead or deadbeat losers, all of my friends on the Manitoba were killed when the ship was… destroyed…” the word was clearly difficult for her to say. “My staff are scared of me, because well, I’m as warm as a comet in-between star systems…  I’d like to… be a regular… if I’m not too much of a handful…” The final remnants of makeup were gone, all that was left was the real Lavender underneath, someone who hadn’t been seen by a soul since the Academy. The avalanche of emotions Arin just started processing tugged at her heartstrings.  Walking over, she took a few makeup wipes, scrubbing off all the foundation, lipstick, mascara, leaving her like Lavender, plain. Her face nearly monotone now. She was still pretty, but it was clear the effort that went into both women.  

“When I saw you in the bar, I was curious about the new pretty face. Once I realized you were on the flight that I piloted from that nightmare, I just operated on instinct. You and I are not so different.  Most women automatically hate me without even bothering to know a thing about me. Racial profiling? Ha!” Arin snorted. “Stick around, it’s been a week since I was told to stay away from someone’s husband. Walking over to Lavender, Arin placed her hands gently on Lavender’s shoulders. “Stuck wit’ you?” Arin said, a warm smile on her now artless face. “That means you’re stuck with me too.” Arin pointed out. Lavender nodded with familial understanding. She had the advantage of not being racially profiled by green skin, but she may as well have been. A fleet kid from a good family she was not. She wore her gang heritage on her sleeve, or more literally on her face. Complex makeup in the gangs of La Sirena was seen as a sign of status, either you had the money for the products or the wit to steal them and get away with it. It was easy to be grubby but hard to look good in that environment. Lavender decided to confide this with Arin. She placed a spindly hand on the Orion’s cheek and thumbed it gently, seeing the pain she must go through to be treated so.

“I’m sorry you get treated that way. Just as sorry to say that’s all too familiar,” she sighed. “I might not be green, but I may as well be. Where I come from intricate makeup meant you were someone.” She gave Arin a smile and moved to acquire her bowl of Colcannon which she stirred experimentally with the fork and took a mouthful.

“When I left M’talas Prime it’s all I had with me, all I knew, all I had of who I was and where I came from, my makeup,” Lavender explained, speaking as she ate. “I’m not a fleet kid, I don’t have a Starfleet family, fancy school education or any of that shit. I made Doctor and Lieutenant Commander through force of ambition. To prove everyone who ever judged me wrong. I know I don’t fit in though, I can see it on the face of every medical staff I ever worked with, the looks of surprise, the whispers. It’s a vicious cycle. Literally. They put me down, I put them in their place and become more cut off from the mainstream of the fleet every time I do. It’s not just makeup to me, it’s armour. Sure I could drop it to try to fit in, but then I wouldn’t be me anymore. I don’t know what I’d be. This is good.” She gestured at the bowl with the fork. Arin made a gesture to pinch the tiny bit of fat around her waist. “I’d like to think this isn’t all whiskey and chocolate.” She said with a giggle. “Colcannon is in the top ten comfort foods of all times.” She placed a hand softly. We can arrange it so we can stay in one bed or the other when needed. Less changing around for ya.” She paused for a moment. “You should let me do your makeup. I’ll let you do mine.” Arin said, then added, “make me look rich.” She said flashing a smile that showed her inner beauty as well. Lavender chuckled.

“Mmmm… Goth Orion? Why not… if you paint me like one of those fleet prudes all rosy and normative I will kill you. Although maybe I could break out the big guns and…” Lavender stopped in her tracks and stared at Arin with incredulity.

“All my makeup… I only just realised, it was all destroyed on the Manitoba. Shit! It took me years to collect some of that stuff… fuck!” She took a seat on the chair and took an extra large bite of Colcannon.

Arin was quiet for a second, empathizing with the compounding loss.  Yes it was just things, but one more kilo of emotional baggage that had to be dealt with just like everyone. Taking a bite of her own bowl, she savored the mix of ham, cabbage, and potato. Comfort food indeed, but it could only do so much. “Speaking about circumstances and how the wheel turns, life can be so twisted. Credit to my parents, for her to be able to see how different life could be and smuggle me out of the life of a slave owner. I can’t imagine owning people. So to say I’ve been blessed would be an understatement. You are in my orbit now and I plan to share as much of a blessing as I can.” She took another bite. “Wait. Doesn’t that mean we can go shopping?” Arin added. Lavender smiled and nodded.

“Anytime. I love shopping,” she said. “I forgot where I got hold of a chunk of it though. Hell, some of it I brought with me from La Sirena and I’m not going back there for a million bars of Latinum and my own personal moon. I’d rather go without makeup, frankly, which is saying something. Speaking of which, you’ve seen me without makeup now and you didn’t run away, call security or try to have me beamed into space!”

There was a short pause.

“Marry me?”

Arin paused, actually thinking about it. “I have seen worse combinations. Though you also haven’t seen me after a weekend of aircraft maintenance. Busty semi-green grease monkey seeks moody cuddle-bug with a doctorate. This might be your worst, you haven’t even scratched mine.” Arin said smiling.

“…Cuddle bug?” Lavender frowned. “Dunno about that but if you change the ad to read sarcastic neurotic psychotic mess with mad makeup skills and a tongue like a viper… yeah I can do that…” she paused to eat a fork full of Colcannon.

“Seriously, expect broken Arin,” she continued, “…and you won’t be disappointed. Oh haha yeah Lavender’s always cracking jokes, always taking the piss… no. Verbal jousting aside, you wanna do this? I’m up for it, but expect broken.”

Lavender chewed a moment.

“Oh and busty is accurate. Kudos.”

Looking down at the wonder twins, Arin said, with a smile, “Thanks, though not much was up to me. Also, I grew up an aircraft farm mechanic. Showing up when things break is hardly new to me and broken doesn’t scare me. Marriage proposals aren’t something new to me either.”

She paused as much for effect as for the coffee she needed. “I’m not a princess and I never want to be treated like one. However. Do it properly. Then I’ll wanna.” Arin countered.

“Not on your life!” Lavender cackled. “And I’m not surpised. Computer, time?” 

“The time is zero five twenty eight.”

“Urgh,” Lavender grimmaced. “Too early for anything substantial and thanks to my broken mind I’m far too awake for more sleep. This is a pretty good breakfast though. Got any Tabasco sauce?”