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91
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars...
Last post by Krajin -
[ Dominic Winters | Wolf 10 | Local Space | U.S.S Theurgy ATTN: @Dumedion @rae @Pierce @Stegro88 @P.C. Haring - All Wolves.

Atlas tracked the various operations and surveyed the events surrounding them all. He could see that the Klingons were continuing to fight, and the Romulans began to turn on each other, which truly made things curious and difficult. He pulled out from hiding amidst the wreckage and shifted speed to half impulse while Atlas monitored the communication lines while he traversed the chaotic void. A warning from another Romulan faction, Klingons cheering with every take down, comms from Theurgy directing them. His ears flicked in annoyance at the comms towards another Wolf, giving her the good girl treatment which honestly provoked anger from the Pilot. He hoped Janus or other ranking individuals would deliver a shredding for that.

Then came the comm from Wolf 13 and 14 going for an RTB with failing systems. "Wolf 13 and 14. This is Wolf 10. Coming up on your Six to provide cover and a tow if needed to get you home safe." Glory in battle is one thing, but making sure that other Pilots got home safe is more important. Punching it to full impulse, Atlas weaved around chunks of debris and pinged the two fighters on his scanners. Shifting to intercept, Atlas shadowed the duo and, if any systems failed, would provide a tow with the short range Tractor Beam the fighters were equipped with. Sure, it might make him a target, but he is capable of fighting and fending off anything that came for them. "If you have your ETS functioning and things get hairy, use it."

He felt he didn't need to remind them but you never know, stress and having allot to deal with could affect a pilot who may forget about the emergency system built into the fighter. As soon as they were safe, though, Atlas peeled off from the group. As it stood, the Romulans were fighting each other, the Klingons and other Wolves to really bother with the trio returning to the Theurgy.

While on escort, Atlas noted the lack of boarding shuttles approaching the Theurgy. Klingon Interceptors had thinned them out, and with the Romulans turning on each other fewer and fewer shuttles had been launched. Donatra's forces were getting pinned down and penned in with the Flagship looking quite open now. What did catch his eye was the sudden and rather alarming alert of a Thalaron build-up onboard her ship. Fuck Not keen to be a puddle when that goes off, Atlas opened a comm to the other Wolves. "Wolf-10 to Wolf 1. I got a Hellbore and a Hellhound left. If we can get an attack run on the Emitter, I got the delivery of a lifetime."

With that, he diverted on an intercept course to the Valdore.
92
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars...
Last post by P.C. Haring -
[Lt. Reggie "Gemini" Suder | Wolf-13 | Cockpit | Valkyrie | Local Space] Attn:  @Dumedion‍ @Stegro88‍ @Havenborn‍  @Eden‍ @Krajin‍ @ob2lander961‍  @Dree‍ @joshs1000‍ 


Reggie's ship rocked in the wake of a nearby explosion and her consoles momentarily blinked out before coming back online.  By the time she'd regained herself, Wraith had already formed up on her wing.

"How're you doing over there, Wraith?"

[Never better, Gemini.]

That was bravado, she knew.  The two of them had been through the rough of it and there were more than a few scorches that would need to be cleaned off both of their damaged hulls as an already intense fight had simply turned chaotic in the blink of an eye.  Still the wounded wolves fought on. 

Status main power is at thirty percent.  Ordinance has been expended and phaser power is at half.  Warp drive is shut down and power diverted to shields.

Even through the worst of it, Reggie took comfort in the telepathic link she and Athen kept. Even in the worst moments, she drew her strength from it, knowing they were in each other's head.

[This is the IKS Fuq'Tup requesting fire support!]

The Neg'var class battleship was just ahead of them and Reggie had already made the decision when Wraith spoke up. 

[Was that a Klingon distress call?]

"As close as you'll ever hear.  Form up.  We're going in."

The two closed in on the Fuq'Tup.  It's hull had been breached, fires from inside raging as it squared off against two D'Deridex class warbirds.  For as old as they were, the Warbirds still packed a punch if for no other reason than their sheer size. 

[I'm reading an energy build up in the Fuk'Tup's ventral cannons.  Looks like they're preparing to fire.]

"Lets give them the cover they need."

Without further word, Wolves 13 and 14 turned for the ship to Starboard and began laying down cover fire. The Target warbird's shield were already down and their phasers struck hard against solid hull scoring non critical hits, but being just enough a nuisence that power systems began to flicker.  The Valravyn's passed harmelssly through the gap in the Warbirds bifrucated hull, each sending pot shots at the Warbird's inner warp Nacelles before exiting and adjusting their heading to the second warbird.

The explosion caught them both, whether between the warbird's demise, or the Klingon ship firing without warning, Reggie would never know.  Consoles shorted out as both her and Wrath's ship were pelted with debris.  Shields failed, alerts and sirens sounded  as she struggled to reign in her bird and avoid colliding with anything that would spell instant doom for her wing of Valravyn flight.  Jerking the ship hard to port and then to starboard the already taxed intertial dampeners could not keep up and her helmet smacked against the side of the cockpit, sending her into a daze she had to shake off in order to regain her focus.  After what seemed like a few seconds slowed by time dialtion into an eternity, she leveled out. 

Damage assessment.

The link was silent.  She reached out for Athen, but found nothing.  Biomonitors had not gone off.  Either they were damaged too, or Athen was still alive albeit unconcious.

"Fuck..."

Out of the corner of her eye, her peripheral vision caught sight of Wolf-14 forming up again.

"Wolf 13 to 14, my Rio's down.  You in one piece over there, Wraith?"

There was silence and Reggie felt a sense of dread creep over her.

"Wraith?"

Another moment before the comm crackled

[This is Alith, Gemini.  I regret to inform you Wraith is dead.]

Reflexively, she turned and looked, truly looked at Wolf-14 as she flew.  The wing was on fire, smoke blowing out into the vacuum, obscuring the cockpit.  As they maneuvered, Wolf-14 rolled to avoid debris and giving Reggie the angle she needed to see the cockpit.  The forward canopy was smashed, and soemthign metalic  jutted out from Wraith's chest.  She could not see much detail, but given the size of the shrapnel relative to his body, she could only imagine that it had crushed is chest and she hoped his death had been instant so as to spare him the suffering.

"Understood, Alith," she finally said, her voice feeling as dead as her wingman.  "State your status."

[Untennable.  I have flight controls but no weapons or shields.]

A quick systems check indicated her ship was not in any better shape.

"Roger.  Form up and follow me in."

Alith gave no reply as the two ships turned to disengage from the fight.

"Wolf 13 to Wolf 1.  Janus, Wolf 14 and I are pretty torn up out here.  All ordinance is expended, main power is failing.  Between the four of us we have one confirmed one possible fatality.  We're disengaging and heading back to the den for repair, but realistically we're out of this fight.  Apologies and good hunting."

She did not wait for a reply.  Between the losses, the effort of flying, and the concern that a wayward Stalker might try to shoot them out of the sky, it was all Reggie could do to keep her composure, as the two wounded Wolves limped back to the den.
93
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars...
Last post by rae -
[ PO2 Knox | Space at the Triangle | Stolen Romulan Experimental Fighter ] Attn: @Dumedion @Hans Applegate @Krajin @Ellen Fitz @Pierce @RyeTanker @joshs1000 @P.C. Haring @ob2lander961 @Stegro88
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Knox’s eyestalks scanned back and forth! Yep, those two pilot’s on his tail seemed to get the message. “We are all friends now!” Knox smiled to himself.

“OK time to fuck up the Romulans. Those cloaked bastards are hiding from the rest of the Federation ships. Let’s highlight them for everyone to shoot at!” Knox attempted to transmit to the fighter closest to him. He had no idea if the message got through or not. Either way it would not change his next course of action.

Rolling towards the largest Romulan ship he saw nearby on his IFF scanners, Knox fired a volley of disruptors at the Romulan ship. The impacts to the shields highlighted that something was there. The ship didn’t completely lose its cloak, but the rippling effect was enough so see and more importantly shoot at. The shimmering died down in just a few seconds and the ship was cloaked again but Knox was already shooting at it again. Now with the ship firmly in his sights Knox started to rapidly zap the ship with disruptor fire alternating from his twin disruptor cannons. This kept the large craft from hiding. Now everyone in the Triangle could clearly see Donatra’s ship while Knox continued to hit it with disruptor fire from his stolen Romulan fighter.

Soon, this drew the attention of other Romulan fighters. Romulan fighters piloted by Romulans. Romulan fighter pilots that didn’t like Knox shooting at Donatra. Knox quickly found himself quite popular in the worst way possible.

“Hey! Yeah… The Romulan’s are shooting at me for shooting at them! Cover me while I reveal their location for you! Help!” Knox transmitted to all Federation frequencies just to be careful.

Quickly he ripple fired off two of his missiles towards the closest two Romulan fighters and hit them with his disruptors to knock their shields down and uncloak them. This slowed them down and made them an easy target for each of his missiles. With a cloud of debris Knox’s problems were lessened by two. However more problems of various sizes were getting closer and firing at him with a steadily increasing level of annoyance!

Knox turned back towards Donatra’s ship and fired another rapid fire volley at her, not very cloaked now, ship.

Suddenly, Knox’s screens lit up. Many many more contacts had arrived. All of them pinging IFF signatures indicating Romulan ships. Lots of them! And most of them started to converge on his location. “Any Federation station. We have contacts! Lots of contacts. IFF says they are Romulan. I will start to hit them to take down their cloaks if they have a cloak. Cleared to shoot targets as they appear! I will pants them for you!”

With that, Knox started to rapid fire as quickly as he could at the incoming Romulan ships. He focused on the cloaked ones to highlight their location for Federation ships to pick off. He spent his remaining 4 missiles in slow sequential order at Donatra’s ship to keep it visible while he focused on tangling with the new threat.


[Ens. Talia “Shadow” Al-Ibrahim | Cockpit | Wolf-04, AC-409 Mk. III Valkyrie]
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As if keeping herself alive and in the fight wasn’t hard enough, attempting to troubleshoot and repair her ship's communications issue added a level of difficulty that Talia had never experienced. With her left hand throttled around the stick in a death grip, simultaneously shooting and maneuvering – while her head and eyes constantly scanned around her for threats, collisions, clear visual on targets and incoming fire – not to mention the fact that it seemed like every Romulan fighter in the AO was now intent on blasting their new ‘friend’ from the stars – Shadow's right hand was occupied in a desperate blind search under the rear panel of her command seat, digging into the isolinear chips there for the correct set selection to access the coms control interface panel tucked away in the same area.

Neither of which she could actually see, but she’d read the manual enough times to visualize the compartment and its layout in her head. “Incoming fire, aft – break right,” Anahi advised, but Talia had already jerked the stick hard to starboard mid warning. “Torp lock – evade, evade, evade,” the computer continued as Shadow grunted and flipped the fighter back over and rolled hard under the wing of a disabled B’rel for cover, then popped a countermeasures pod mid-maneuver, spraying arcs of flares and chaff into the void while a hiss of curses streamed between her teeth.

Janus’ ship streaked by in a blur then, falling back with such brutality that Talia couldn’t fathom the punishment the old man just put his body through – while the now friendly Romulan bogey lit up what looked to be the largest Warbird she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Faulty circuit CCA-772 located. Remove chip and replace, row 2, fourth from left. Reinitialize primary coms array and initiate encryption algorithms Alpha-Zeta 72.56,” Anahi advised.

“Fucking slow down,” Talia yelled, pushed to the absolute limits of her multitasking capabilities, fumbling to feel for the right chip as she literally fought for her life. Just counting to four by touch alone seemed like an impossible task. “Fuck sakes,” the pilot grunted, then pulled out a blue chip, blackened and fuzed into uselessness. Her fighter shook around her in the same instant, shields lit under heavy fire from above and behind. Talia reacted on instinct: throttling back and pitching the fighter’s nose up and over in a tight inverted roll that sent the stars spinning.

Then the void erupted in green fire. Everywhere.

Blurs of ships materialized into existence; flights of Klingon fighters, disruptors blazing bright in the darkness – swarmed into the fight. Detonating ships from both sides of the conflict erupted in flashes of incandescent light, winks of destruction brighter than stars for the most fleeting of seconds. It was impossible to know or comprehend who had the upper hand – in that moment, all Talia knew was that if they didn’t find a way to end this, and end it soon, no one would survive.

Her hand dropped the fried chip and scrambled to pull a fresh one out of the reserve stack above her head, but all she could see were green sticks. “Blue one, I need a fucking blue one,” she screamed in frustration – spilling the entire compartment out into her lap like a bag of snacks. The chips, now subject to the same brutal gravitational and inertial physics that Talia had endured since the onset of this insanity, were then scattered about the cockpit like shrapnel; some floated freely in position, others pinged off the surface of control consoles and the armored transparent dome of the cockpit and HUD displays.
“Fuck – sakes – fuck,” Talia grunted, trying to snatch one of the blue ones as she followed the erratic and idiotic attack patterns of their new “friend”. “Hirek, if that’s you, I’ll fucking kill you when this is over I fucking swear to –“ Shadow hissed, then finally managed to swipe a blue chip from the air and slotted it into place. “Reinitialize coms array,” she ordered breathlessly between target engagements – then kicked her fighter over and dove back into formation on Janus’ wing.

“Compliance. Standby,” Anahi droned, followed by a series of audible beeps. “Primary and secondary array links inoperable, activating tertiary.” Another series of beeps. “Tertiary array uplink established. Initiating encryption algorithms.”

“Spare me the play by play,” Talia hissed, opening fire in a straying run with Janus and their ward as they streaked past the massive Romulan command ship. “Did it work or not,” she demanded.

“Bioreadings indicate severe stress coupled with dehydration and under-nourishment – I recommend you eat as soon as possible, pilot,” the computer answered rapidly, which forced Talia to blink in surprise.

Did the fucking computer just call me hangry?[/silver]

“Uplink established.”

Talia’s helm erupted in audio chaos then, filling her ears with the voices of the Wolves as they each fought their own parts of the battle. Another voice joined in – the pilot of the unknown mark that was somehow aiding them, no doubt. None of that mattered though; she could hear them, so it was time to know if they could hear her. A rapid tap opened her coms up after she traded spaces with Janus in a graceful rollover to starboard, setting herself up off the Romulan’s flank.

“Wolf-4, coms check,” Shadow blurted quickly – hoping somebody would answer and explain what the hell was going on – or at least what the plan was to deal with the massive warship that just decloaked on top of them.


[ Lt Cmdr. Jaru “Janus” Rel | Wolf-01 | Valkyrie ]
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“Theurgy, Janus – will someone please tell me if you’re getting sensor data from this lunatic?” He cut the channel before finishing, “because otherwise I’m seriously considering letting him die.” Janus was sure that taking potshots at cloaked Romulan ships was good fun – he’d always enjoyed it – but his goal was to start sending out live sensor data on all cloaked ships in the AO that was usable for all friendly ships. One guy lighting up cloaks with disruptor fire wasn’t near as useful, especially when two members of an already depleted squadron were needed to guard him. He didn’t know what this chief petty officer’s day job was, but after watching him fly for a few seconds, Janus knew that Knox had never been near tacconn school.

At this point, the battle had taken on elements of a holodeck racing simulation. Knox would hit cloaked ships and race past them, giving the fighters a single strafing run before they had to disengage to keep up with the hijacked ship. He felt more like a glorified guard dog though, harrying the many ships that had taken notice of their new ally. Janus shifted targets quickly, sometimes abandoning runs midway through, jerking the Valkyrie around to take on a fighter or warbird that turned its full armament on Knox after he forced them into visual range.

“What’s with that one?” he mused, beginning to see a pattern in Knox’s attacks, which focused on one ship in particular that never managed to stay decloaked for long. “Computer, identify that ship.” As it worked, the process slowed by the limited visual data his sensors had picked up during it’s momentary sighting, Janus busied himself with a quick, violent dogfight with an enemy fighter. His shields took a beating, the outside of the canopy surrounded by sparks of bright lights, his own phasers causing similar damage only meters away. He snuck a torpedo into the fireworks that did the trick, but Janus was already speeding off back to the other two when he got confirmation.

Knox was shooting at his favorite warbird again, the ship appearing basically on top of them. Janus was so used to cloaked ships at this point that he didn’t even jump. The disappearing act had stopped surprising him. Fucking Romulans had ruined horror sims forever.

His communications board was still green, but Janus was starting to wonder if there was a fault anyway. “Knox, Janus – Get off wide beam comms and talk to me. I’m the one on your tail, I’m tied into Theurgy and the fighters with secure comms. You’re in a stolen ship, you don’t know how to work it, we don’t know who you are, it’s a fucking op sec nightmare. No one out here is going to follow your orders without my go ahead. The field is too big for everyone to follow and take out Romulans as you paint them. Shadow and I—”

Speaking of which, the other pilot chose that moment to finally fix her own comm system, her voice interrupting with a burst of static.

“Shadow, Janus – Copy.”

[Identified. IRW Valdore.] The words flashed across his HUD while the computer spoke, assigning the name on a tag next to the ship on his screen. Janus grinned. That explained it.

“Theurgy, Janus,” he made sure to tie Knox and Shadow into the channel too, “We have a confirmed location on the Valdore. Repeat. We found Donatra’s flagship. Let’s go get it.”


[ PO2 Knox | Space at the Triangle | Stolen Romulan Experimental Fighter ]
[Show/Hide]
Knox kept up his assault. With Donatra’s ship now highlighted by a constant barrage other Federation ships also contributed to wearing her shields down. And soon the boarding party would be able to go aboard her, or she would just explode. One way or another things were starting to look up. Chaotic for sure. But chaotic in a generally positive way. It was then that Knox received his next surprise. One of the ships, a Federation fighter that had been sort of frenemies with him so far called him on the radio. Knox was surprised because he didn’t know that ship had comms. Second, the individual flying that fighter identified themself as a wolf. Unsure if that was a fursona or maybe a wolf species had joined the Federation Knox was stunned because both of those were possible yet unexpected.

“Hey…Wolf 4…” Knox paused for a moment before continuing. “Your comms are working, and who let you off the leash?” Knox hoped that joke would go well and maybe add some clarity to the situation. But instead of dwelling on it, he pressed on with more important business. “Let’s shoot at this Romulan ship until the shields are down. We almost have them where we want them! Once the shields are down, I am gonna hit her engines to immobilize them.”

Knox waited to hear if there was a bark or some other K9 vocalization to follow and wondered if he should call this ‘Wolf 4’ a good girl.

But, one cannot just sit idle. Especially not in a battle. A very chaotic battle with lots of variables and several different teams all fighting each other for rather complex reasons. Knox rolled his craft to starboard and dodged another volley of disruptor fire, before hitting Donatra's ship again. As he was ready to line up another shot the shields flashed and almost looked like a bubble popping in the void of space. The next shot from a phaser from an unseen ally hit the hull of Donatra's ship confirming that the shields were down!

Knox gave up on decorum, “Hey Wolf 4! Who’s a good girl!? We got the shields down! Ahh Wolf 4 is a good girl! Treats for you back on the Theurgy!” After congratulating his teammate appropriately to show he valued her dedication and skill as a furry pilot, Knox sped towards the rear of Donatra’s ship and fired everything he had at her port side impulse engine while letting the USS Theurgy know that the shields were officially down now and he was going in for a mobility kill.

OOC: Joint post part two from myself, @Hans Applegate, and @Dumedion
94
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 2: S [Day 02 | 1630hrs] Cat's in the Cradle
Last post by Krajin -
[ Dominic Winters | Pilot’s Locker Rooms | Vector 2 | Deck 16 | ATTN: @joshs1000

The man requested slow and gentle and yet he's acting like a female in heat! The act of trying to push himself back onto Dominic's cock encouraged him to keep it up and even speed things up. Sure, Atlas could read Lok's emotions but that is cheating and at the moment, its easier to see and feel the good and bad reactions of their activity without needing it. He maintained his bite on the scruff and began to pick up the pace and get into a steady rhythm with muffled grunts of pleasure shooting up through his body. One hand rested on Lok's waist, quickly shifted to pinning his hand to the wall.

The other, however, snaked around the big, wet Kzint's waist and felt along that furry form until it found its way to Lok's erection. Slowly, he slid his hand along the length and gripped Lok's turgid dick lightly and began to pump along the length of it. His thumb slid over the head and rubbed along the barbs to help stimulate them. All the while lost in the carnal act of rutting in the shower.
96
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Topic: EP 2 S: [D3 | 0020hrs] Heavy is the Head
Last post by joshs1000 -
Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Bridge | Deck 1 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy] Attn:[/b] @Brutus  @Nesota Kynnovan  @TWilkins @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker

“I won’t say no to the extra firepower Colonel, you have a deal”, Natalie said, practically shouted, as news of more friendlies graced her ears and lifted the great weight from her shoulders and dread in her stomach. “Standby, Colonel.”

With a few taps of the armrest of the captain’s chair, Cross and K’mprot were brought into the unified comms channel. “Commander, General, looks like we got a bit more help so I think we better make a play at ending this thing before anymore lives are lost; we need to take down their flagship, if that Thaloron weapon is allowed to go off things are going to go south fast.”

She paused for a moment as that weight returned as the realization that her actions could either lead to great victory or doom, not just for Theurgy but for their allies as well. The moment was hers to seize and she wasn’t going to second guess herself, she had to trust her gut. The pause was long enough for her mind to formulate a plan of action but it would require Theurgy, the Klingons, and their new Reman allies to work as a team, a team that had never practiced together or even knew each other’s names.

“Cross, I want you to use Ranger to fix that main Romulan squadron in place, and work with General K’mprot to get them away from the enemy flagship. Colonel Xiomek, form your squadron on my ship to make a run on the flagship, I want us to make a nice target to keep them distracted long enough that our combined fighters can get in close and allow a boarding party to get on board and sabotage the weapon.”

Once each leader acknowledged their orders, Stark rotated around in her chair to face Ensign Thorne, “Jaya, get on the horn with Janus, tell him he has five minutes to get his squadron, the Klingons’, and the Remans’ formed up and ready to attack, I have too much to manage up here so I’ll need you to vector them in and keep them coordinated.”

She turned back forward and took a breath, here we go. “Sylvain, get us out of this debris field and make a nice showy turn to get that Romulan flagship’s attention, full impulse, engage.”

Under the deft controls of Ensign Llewellyn-Kth, Helmet gracefully departed the dust and massive rocks of the debris field, leaving the shattered remains of a Romulan squadron behind, her sleek hull was heavily battered from not just the battle but months of abuse and yet she still stood out in the darkness of space due to her smart Starfleet paint that made her look like a worn beacon of light in the darkness. Within minutes Helmet was back in the battle space now filled with debris and burning ships, carnage perhaps not seen since the Dominion War, but still the two fleets, as worn down as they were slugged it out at ever closer ranges.

“Steady as you go Ensign”, Stark calmly said to Sylvain as the Helmet banked into position, the imposing form of the Romulan flagship centering on the screen, “here we go, mind your stations, Sylvain, take whatever evasive action is needed but don’t back down from that ship. Let’s give them something to shoot at. Auxiliary power to forward shields and weapons, ready photon torpedoes.”

Cmdr. (3rd) Hassar al-Zaheer | Bridge| Deck 1 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]
[Show/Hide]

Hassar listened to the call with mild interest but spent much of his time in the brief pause since they had lost their attackers reviewing the controls for the weapons, with the help of the ship’s AI, Thea, who arranged what they called the LCARS display in a mild almost video-game-like tutorial. Before long though the Helmet was on the move once again as it exited the debris field and rejoined the battle.

The Romulan flagship filled the viewscreen, imposing, perhaps the largest ship that Hassar had ever seen. He glanced back down to his display which showed a smaller view of the viewscreen was seeing but also had a simple tactical map as well as a simple readout for the status of the weapons and shields. The tactical screen showed the enemy, still holding strong but clearly in a state of disarray as the tide was rapidly turning against them, as well as their allies but more importantly to his task, the fighters that had quickly grouped together to launch their own attack. His eyes watched, rarely blinking as the range counted down, finally the range counter flipped from red to green and in that very moment, Stark ordered, in a cool, almost melancholic voice, “Open fire.”

“Yes Commander, engaging contact Sierra 5, forward weapons firing”, Hassar responded a bit more emphatically than he normally would.

Coming in loaded for bear, Helmet unleashed its full power against the opposing enemy ship, which had also opened fire itself. A dual pair of phaser beams each took turns blasting away at the massive ship while two, six missile, salvoes of photon torpedoes burst forth from the forward torpedo tubes. This onslaught, combined with that of the supporting Reman ships was more than enough to get the attention of the enemy flagship and a not insubstantial number of its fighters as well as a couple escort ships. It was now or never if Theurgy and her allies’ fighters wanted to get the upper hand in their strike.


OOC Notes:

-Just to clarify what is happening, Theurgy and her allies are making one big attack on the Romulan flagship so they can get people aboard and disable the Thaloron weapon as well as decapitate head of the fleet (perhaps even literally since there are Klingons about) and bring a swift end to the battle.

-The mission with the fighters and the boarding action will be handled in separate threads, reach out to Ellen Fitz for more information if you are unsure what to do next.
97
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 08 [0830 hrs.] Can you take me higher?
Last post by Pierce -
Ensign Lauren Pierce | Holodeck 05 | Deck 21 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Nesota Kynnovan @Brutus
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Lauren laughed at the comment by Jaya in the other room and her special nickname. It was honestly starting to grow on her the more she thought about it. But at the same time gave her the right to call Jaya, Brownie too.

"Yeah, we're really on point with those crash rates. Better lose another layer!" She laughed again. "Thea is definitely interfering somehow. These should theoretically work flawlessly." She sounded bewildered at the oddity of not being able to pull off the maneuver. She rubbed her temple as she leaned back in her chair. Pretty much all her clothes at a puddle at her feet now other than her jacket on the back of the chair. Thoughts of the maneuver were deep in her mind as she closed her eyes, the cool air brisling across her bare skin.

The holodeck doors swished open and closed as Jaya entered. Lauren grunted a response to Jaya now physically sharing the same holodeck. "Haha" She said sarcastically about the console destruction. She listened to Jaya's response about Thea interfering with the operation. "She's definitely getting in the way...I know we can do this Brownie."

"Well, we don't have much to lose." She said thinking it also meant clothing and not just the flight pattern with Thea. She huffed as she waited for the ship's AI to majestically appear.

Lauren saw the holographic Thea in the flesh as it were appear before her on their facsimile of the bridge. Brownie was in the entry way and lacked the vantagepoint that Thea now witnessed in full visual. Did a hologram see? How did it work? He mind puzzled as she sat there in the buff, her topless bountiful chest nearly resting on the console she still had her hands on as the surprise of the holographic female was staring directly at her in bewilderment. A slight tinge of crimson fell on her face, nearly matching her hair beside it before she shook her head.

"Um, we were attempting to pull off a new multi-vector maneuver in the event we needed it in combat....and in case you were taken offline to prevent the attempt." She smirked lightly before turning her face downward into her lap. "I apologize for my lack of proper uniform Thea. Normally this wouldn't be a thing, but Brow...I mean Ensign Thorne suggested for each failed attempt, we lose an article of clothing...suffice it to say...I'm out." She gave a wry smile before placing her hands in her lap covering her pelvic region.

Turning slightly to the mission ops console, she looked and saw Ensign Thorne, standing still, completely in uniform which only added to the surprise in Lauren's eyes and face as she realized the poking was in jest which she'd wondered slightly. Embarrassment washed over her as her eyes nearly teared up realizing she was the fool here in what was supposed to be a fun exercise. Her arms reaching over her breast as she grabbed her uniform jacket and slid it over her arms and chest, not zipped but enough to wash some of the shame away as her mid-chest was still on display despite being completely lacking elsewhere.

Rolling up her sleeves she gathered the rest of her uniform and held it on her lap to cover her pubic region which still had underwear, but that was it. Her face still red hot. "I'm sorry Thea and Jaya. I di-didn't know..." A single tear pooled in her eye, she was sure it must be confusing to Thea, but to Brownie, it definitely wasn't. She'd been in the buff during the recent Savi ship abduction in the past few weeks, but that was a little different as they all were forced into a similar state. Here, she felt, somewhat alone and didn't realize it was lost on her the jest of the situation. She didn't blame Jaya, but her own gullibleness. Likely something that Tessa managed to rub off on her about. But since her being a POW in the Dominion War, she tended to take things more literally than she used to.

Her head continued to face her lap as she thought of how she felt now. It was fun until this point, but she really hadn't counted on being slightly aroused at the predicament of being seen so vulnerable like this. She knew she was good looking, but to be around these other beauties, she couldn't help but wonder what they thought of her before her abrupt coverup in her seat.

Standing up, her clothes fell again, despite still wearing the jacket, unzipped completely, the rest of her items fell at a pool at her feet as she fumbled it and mouthed, "sorry" to Jaya as her underwear covered ass and long slender legs were on full display for Thea.
98
Director's Cut / [Stardate 57714.5: May 12th, 2381] - Boldly they rode...
Last post by RyeTanker -
[CPO Dominic Lau | Romulan Runabout | Battle in the Triangle] @Ellen Fitz

The scene from the viewport held a macabre fascination for the intelligence operative as he waited for something to indicate his services were needed somewhere. He stood, hands linked behind his back as he watched space explode in energy and fury ahead of him.  So far they'd been lucky or unlucky depending on one's view of the circumstances.  They had arrived, transmitted the clearance with Theurgy, then simply began to wait.  It was a tense, gnawing game and they weren't in intel, they wouldn't be used to simply waiting.  He could hear the buttons beeping as Cheung used the ships limited sensors to parse out and feed data to Theurgy and the Klingons.  She was also still working her way through the Romulan security systems to see if she could hack anything from the ships, but with the less powerful computers on what amounted to a runabout, there was little hope in that area.

The rest of the the pickups were nervous.  Even the security types.  He was sure they'd been expecting to see combat, but not at this intensity and not so soon. A few were already dead, and they hadn't even made it to the ship.  He supposed he was going to have to be the one to create the letter of condolence.  He filed the thought away for the tenth time and stared at the battle while ignoring the urge to pester his crew.  Bessir was amusing himself with tossing a knife in the air and catching it at just the right angle as he sat at another bank of consoles and kept his feet on the edge.  He claimed it helped to keep his senses and intuition sharp.  At least it served to distract him otherwise he'd have to find other ways to keep himself entertained.

"Hey Klaudia"  Bessir.  The sniper called as the knife went into the air.  He didn't even wait to see if the woman was listening. "Don't you wish Knox was here?  I bet he has the skills to be the most amazing masseuse in two quadrants."

Klaudia growled. "Shut up Bessie, I'm busy in case you hadn't noticed." She snapped back as she focused in on her console with even more apparent intensity.

The Bajoran-Cardassian hybrid kept on going.  "I mean think about it.  All that oozing liquid titillating about like a what was that term?"  He snapped his fingers dramatically after a moment. "Right, that human scientist.  A non-Newtonian liquid."  The tech muttered under her breath for him to shut up. "He'll be able to massage, caress, knead every muscle the body has."

"Can it." Chief Lau ordered. "Go check on the rest of the passengers."  Bessir grumbled but caught the knife that he hadn't stopped tossing while needling Cheung and headed out the door.  Cheung said nothing as she turned her attention back to the computers.

A few more moments passed and Bessir came back before seating himself back in his chair and tapped on a few buttons to see a tactical map of the battle.  He let out a low whistle.  "Glad I was never given a ship board assignment.  Hate to be in the middle of all that."

A few more moments of nothing, then Cheung stopped what she was doing as an anomaly caught her attention. Lau and Bessir didn't appear to notice, but the team had been together too long and their ears metaphorically perked up waiting to hear what bit of news was coming through.  There was another series of beeps from her computer, then a quiet "Oh Shit" escaped her mouth.

That was enough of an alarming statement that the Chief and the Sniper turned to their comm tech and she knew it as she began speaking out loud without looking away. "It's chaos. Donatra's forces are firing on all sides.  The Imperial forces are doing the same.  Theurgy is under heavy assault and the Klingons are responding in kind to all the Romulans."  Her fingers manipulated the computer as the other two absorbed a situation that had suddenly become far more complicated. "I don't see an end goal, but Donatra seems to have lost it and is stating she's willing to use the Thalaron weapon"  Lau's eyes widened at this declaration, espeically since this Romulan had been so instrumental in making sure the original version hadn's been used in in the first place.  Bessir let out a long drawn out "what the fuuuuuckk?" as he looked wide eyed at Cheung like she'd happily agreed to have Knox use his shape shifting abilities to fuck her silly while giving him a blow job and stripping off her clothes in front of him.  Which was even more weird since she was known as a dyke.

Cheung sat there oblivious to the looks she was getting as she continued to pull in data.  "The Klingons are definielty not happy about this.  The battle chatter is getting really aggressive and more fire is being directed at Donatra's flagship, but she's a tough bitch and a really good ship handler.  They can't seem to keep her shields down.  Maybe they've got multiple generators cycling."  The tech surmised as she focused her attention and the sensor feeds she could see on the flagship.  The two men looked at each other as they began working angles and possible solutions on what could be done about the crazy mad woman in the midst of the battle.

"I think the Klingons are going for glory in this one.  Several ships were destroyed too easily and there was an odd power spike from them.  I thought that initially their power cores were hit, but it looks like as soon as an opening in Donatra's shields appeared, they tried to transport troops over.  That's what this piece of garbage circuity is calling the energy spikes anyway. Except the new shields came up too quickly and the cycle was aborted.  It left those ships vulnerable and boom."

Chief Lau turned back towards the window and rubbed his chin as a plan formed in his mind.  It was foolhardy and ridiculous, but it might be the battle's only hope.  "Klaudia, open a channel to Theurgy and the Klingons. I've got an idea, but I need a well timed tachyon burst to make this work.
99
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 2: S [Day 02 | 1630hrs] Cat's in the Cradle
Last post by joshs1000 -
[CPO Avandar Lok | Pilot’s Locker Room | Fighter Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Krajin
[Show/Hide]

At first Lok relaxed and treated Dominic’s probing manhood like any other he had the pleasure of taking in carnal delight, but like everything else aboard Theurgy, things change quickly and one has to adapt quickly. No sooner had his fellow kzin pressed the tip of his cock into Lok’s waiting hole than the size became all too apparent to the deck chief, used to the more, in comparison to himself, diminutive species like humans. A lightening bolt of sharp paint shot through him, his body tensed up, and his face grimaced; but he had a certain amount of pride and did his best to hide the discomfort that he knew would fade…eventually, luckily kzinti had a high pain tolerance. To counteract the discomfort, he grit his teeth and planted himself more firmly, his claws digging into the decorative plastoform panel of the shower, as he worked to push through and get used to the rather large size of his handsome companion.

Despite the bit of momentary pain, the heat and throbbing hardness was like an electric shock to his senses that elicited an uncontrolled whimper from Lok’s lips. Even as the horny Lieutenant took hold of his scruff and asserted his dominance with another shove of that wonderful bit of maleness, Lok was already pressing his rump back for more. His own cock felt almost uncomfortably hard as the veins along its length bulged and throbbed in visible rhythm with his rapidly beating hearts while a steady stream of clear precum dripped from the engorged tip to the floor to be washed into the drain by the cascade of water from the shower. The firmness of his length was such that his barbs had flared out, though they were far from dangerous bony spikes like most people seemed to think they were, rather they were hard but flexible, designed to help keep two mating kzinti locked together to some degree  before knotting, they also provided quite a good deal of stimulation. Stimulation that Lok would receive quite soon from Domonic as he pressed ever further in.

In spite of his attempt to push himself onto Dominci’s rod, Lok could only pant and moan with need as the large male expertly and cruelly slowly slid the rest of his length into the puckered ring of Lok’s entrance. Part of him wanted to use his own strength to just get the damn object of his desire shoved up there already but the firm dominant grip of the teeth on his scruff kept him in place to endure the slow wonderful pleasure of every centimeter of Dominic’s cock.
100
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EP 2 S: [D3 | 0015hrs] If You Want Blood, You Got It
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Hirek tr'Aimne & Ehfva Feynri | V. 1 | D. 14 | The Helmet ] @RyeTanker  @Tae  @Dumedion  @rae  @Brutus  @TWilkins @Stegro88

The corridor lights flickered and died as Hirek tr'Aimne pressed his back against the cool bulkhead, his phaser rifle held loosely in experienced hands. The Andorian Deputy's voice crackled through his helmet's comm system, outlining the plan with military precision. Hirek's lips curved into a sardonic smile beneath his borrowed armor. *Hostage rescue with amateurs. How delightfully straightforward.*

"Set your phasers to level 2. Many of you are not trained in hostage rescue, so just shoot everything."

Now *that* was a plan he could appreciate. Brutally honest and delightfully pragmatic. Hirek checked his weapon's settings with practiced efficiency, noting the nervous shuffling of the engineers-turned-security around him. Poor creatures, pulled from their comfortable consoles to play soldier. In his experience, this sort of direct confrontation was best left to those who enjoyed it—or at the very least, those who'd been properly trained for it. He much preferred a well-placed sabotage or a carefully timed distraction. But when one found oneself pressed into service aboard a renegade Federation vessel, one adapted.

Beside him, the Vulpinian shifted her weight. Her ears twitched as she tracked sounds from ahead. The way she'd moved suggested real combat experience, not the fumbling uncertainty of the engineers.

"Thea. Are the doors still closed?"

The AI's affirmative response echoed through their systems just as chaos erupted from the starboard team's position.

"What do you mean?..." Lieutenant zh'Wann's voice died mid-question.

Then came the explosion—a brilliant flash of fire and shrapnel that painted the corridor in orange and white. Through his helmet's display, Hirek saw the feed from the starboard team's perspective: a Klingon warrior, grinning with predatory satisfaction as he blasted the door open.

"*Qa'pla!*" The war cry split the air like thunder.

"Of course," Hirek muttered under his breath. "Because subtlety is clearly overrated." He'd worked with Klingons before during his intelligence days. They were effective warriors, yes, but about as subtle as a supernova.

"Starboard team, stand fast! The rest with me. Thea, open the doors!"

Hirek moved with the others as zh'Wann's team charged toward the port entrance, though he kept to the middle of the pack. Let the actual security personnel take point—they were trained for this sort of direct confrontation.

The Deputy dropped her rifle and grabbed grenades. Hirek approved—flash-bangs first, violence second. Well, *additional* violence second, given the Klingons had already commenced the slaughter portion of the evening.

Through the opening door, Hirek caught glimpses of the carnage: two Klingons sprawled on the deck, their armor scorched, but a third had made it through, his bat'leth separating a Romulan marine's head from his shoulders in a fountain of emerald blood.

Then the flash-bangs detonated.

Hirek squeezed his eyes shut, his helmet's filters barely compensating for the sensory assault. When his vision cleared, the lounge had become a painting of controlled chaos. Klingons and Romulans grappled in the center, all pretense of civilized warfare abandoned for brutal close-quarters combat.

An engineer nearby raised his phaser, hands shaking. "I... I don't know which ones to—"

"The ones not wearing Theurgy uniforms," Hirek offered dryly, bringing his own rifle up. "Deputy said shoot everything. I believe she was quite clear."

The engineer squeezed his eyes shut and fired. The orange stun bolt sailed wide, striking a decorative pillar instead of the Romulan marine it had been vaguely aimed at.

Hirek sighed quietly. He scanned the chaos with the analytical eye of a scientist observing an experiment. Three Romulans, left side. One of them was trying to flank toward the hostages. Hirek lined up the shot, compensated for the bodies between them, and fired. The Romulan dropped like a marionette with cut strings. While he didn't LIKE this kind of confrontation, that didn't mean he wasn't adequate at it.

Movement to his right. Another Romulan, this one armed with a disruptor. Hirek pivoted and fired again. Another clean hit. The Romulan crumpled.

The same engineer was now firing indiscriminately, his eyes open but his aim no better for it. "Sorry! Sorry! Oh gods, I'm so sorry!" he wailed as he fired shot after shot, hitting furniture, walls, and occasionally—*very* occasionally—a target. One of his wild shots caught a Klingon warrior in the back. The Klingon staggered forward, more surprised than hurt by the stun bolt.

"*Petaq!*" The Klingon whirled, murder in his eyes.

"I said sorry!" the engineer squeaked, backing up so fast he tripped over his own feet.

Hirek shot the Romulan the Klingon had been fighting. The warrior grunted something that might have been gratitude but sounded more like indigestion and turned back to find another opponent. On Hirek's left, another Klingon and Romulan had abandoned their weapons entirely, rolling on the ground in a tangle of limbs, fists, and creative invective in both languages. A second engineer approached them, phaser raised, clearly trying to follow zh'Wann's orders.

"Shoot... shoot them both?" he asked uncertainly.

The engineer fired twice. Both combatants went limp, still tangled together in what would have been a compromising position if either had been conscious.

Across the lounge, Ehfva had moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her twisted form ducking behind the bar with practiced efficiency. She'd found a perfect sniper's nest, her body dropping into a familiar stance as she brought her rifle up.

*Interesting,* Hirek thought, filing the observation away.

*There.* A Romulan centurion, trying to rally his scattered troops. Ehfva's rifle hummed once, and the centurion folded. Another Romulan. Another precise shot. The marine stumbled and fell, his disruptor clattering across the deck.

Hirek caught movement in his peripheral vision—a Romulan sub-commander, using the chaos as cover, circling around toward Ehfva's position.

"Ehfva!" he called out.

But it was too late. The Romulan had already closed the distance, his hand lashing out to grab Ehfva's rifle. They struggled for a moment, the Romulan's superior leverage beginning to win out as he wrenched the weapon from her grip. Ehfva didn't hesitate, didn't try to retrieve her weapon. Instead, her lips peeled back to expose sharp canines mixed in with her humanoid teeth as a low, rumbling growl emanated from deep in her chest.

The Romulan's triumphant expression faltered as Ehfva's clawed hand struck like a serpent, raking across his face. He screamed, stumbling back, and Ehfva pressed her advantage with primal efficiency. A slash to the wrist made him drop his disruptor. A strike to the throat cut off his cry. When his guard dropped, her jaws found his shoulder, and she bit down. The Romulan's scream became a gurgle. Emerald blood splattered across Ehfva's muzzle as she released him. The body hit the floor with a wet thump.

For a moment, Ehfva stood there, chest heaving, blood on her teeth. Then she calmly retrieved her phaser rifle, wiped her muzzle with the back of her hand, and resumed her sniping position as if the last ten seconds had been nothing more than a minor interruption.

To Hirek's right, one of the engineers had frozen, staring at Ehfva with wide eyes. "Did she just—"

The engineer jumped and resumed firing, though with noticeably more enthusiasm now. Fear, Hirek noted, was indeed an excellent motivator.

Another engineer's voice crackled across the comm. "I shot a Klingon again! He's not happy!"

"None of them are happy," Hirek murmured to himself, firing three rapid shots to clear a cluster of Romulans from behind an overturned table. "That's their natural state."

"I'm trying! They keep *moving*!"

*As combatants generally do, yes,* Hirek thought but didn't say. He was technically a civilian volunteer—or possibly a defector under provisional acceptance—and therefore not in a position to bark orders at actual Starfleet personnel, no matter how incompetent they might be at combat.

Through it all, the Klingons fought with the savage joy of warriors born. One had acquired a Romulan's blade and was using it with his bat'leth in a deadly dual-wielding display that was probably inefficient but undeniably impressive. Another had lifted a Romulan bodily and thrown him into two of his compatriots, sending all three sprawling.

A flash of movement caught his eye. A Romulan marine, young—barely past his mandatory service years by the look of him. The marine was down on one knee, stunned but not unconscious, his face a mask of green blood and determination as he reached for a dropped disruptor.

Hirek's rifle came up automatically, his finger on the trigger. Then he paused.

The marine's face, even bloodied and contorted with pain, was familiar. The nose, the shape of the brow ridges, even the particular angle of the jaw. Hirek knew that face, or rather, knew the family it came from. His second cousin's third son had gotten engaged some years back to a woman from one of the minor houses near the Uluma Islands. Hirek had even attended the ceremony, though he'd spent most of it cataloging the various ways the family politics could be exploited for future work.

This marine... could it be the fiancé's younger brother? The resemblance was uncanny. Same house, same features, same stubborn set to the shoulders that he remembered from the ceremony.

The marine's fingers closed around the disruptor's grip.

Hirek fired.

The orange bolt caught the marine square in the chest, and he toppled sideways, unconscious before he hit the deck. The disruptor skittered away, harmless.

*If that is who I think it is,* Hirek mused, *the family reunion is going to be spectacularly awkward. Though perhaps I should send a note: 'Apologies for the stunning. Nothing personal..'*

The sounds of combat were beginning to die down. Most of the Romulans were either unconscious or too injured to continue fighting. The Klingons were still looking for opponents, their bloodlust not yet satisfied, but they were running out of targets.

Then, from the center of the chaos, a voice rang out. "Enough!"

The tallest Romulan marine Hirek had ever seen—easily matching the Klingons for sheer size—stood with his hands raised, his disruptor on the ground at his feet. "We surrender! By the stars, we *surrender*!"

Around him, the remaining conscious Romulans began lowering their weapons, hands rising in surrender. Some looked relieved. Others looked disgusted with themselves. All looked exhausted.

The Klingons, predictably, were having none of it.

"*Qapla'be'!*" one roared, his bat'leth still raised. "No honor in surrender! Fight!"

The tall Romulan marine shook his head slowly, blood trickling from a cut above his eye. "We have lost. There is no shame in recognizing this truth. We will face judgment as prisoners."

"*Verengan Ha'DIbaH!*" Another Klingon kicked a disruptor toward a downed Romulan. "Pick up your weapon! Fight like a warrior!"

The Romulan, conscious but clearly in pain, just shook his head and kept his hands visible and empty.

"This is pathetic!" A third Klingon was practically dancing with frustration, his bat'leth weaving patterns in the air. "Where is the honor? Where is the glory? You surrender like *Ferengi*!"

"We surrender like soldiers who know when they are defeated," the tall Romulan said with quiet dignity. "If that lacks honor in your eyes, Klingon, then so be it."

Hirek lowered his rifle, watching the standoff with bemusement. *Klingons attempting to goad Romulans into suicide-by-combat. At least some things are predictable in this universe.*

An engineer nearby was still firing sporadic shots at nothing in particular, his targeting discipline having completely evaporated in the chaos. "Should I shoot them? Should I shoot the Klingons? Should I—"

Another engineer grabbed his arm. "Stop! Combat's over!"

Across the lounge, Ehfva rose from her position, her rifle held loosely but ready. She caught Hirek's eye and nodded once—a simple acknowledgment between two people who had just survived combat together. She wiped the remaining blood from her muzzle with a methodical precision that somehow made the gesture more disturbing than if she'd left it.

Hirek looked down at the unconscious marine at his feet—possibly his distant relative, possibly a stranger who just happened to share familiar features. Either way, the young fool would wake up in a holding cell with nothing worse than a pounding headache and a bruised ego.

An engineer stumbled past, looking shell-shocked. "I shot so many people. I kept saying I was sorry!"

"Yes," another crewman replied wearily. "We all heard you."

As he moved toward the door, he nearly collided with Ehfva, who had descended from her sniper's perch.

"You called the warning," she said quietly. "Thank you."

Hirek inclined his head slightly. "You're welcome. Though I see you had the situation... handled." He paused. "That was quite effective. Unconventional by Federation standards, but effective."

Ehfva's ears flicked in what might have been amusement or embarrassment—he didn't know her well enough to read the gesture. "Old training. From before."

"Ah." Hirek understood that. Everyone had a 'before'—the person they'd been before circumstances reshaped them.

Behind them, a Klingon was still trying to convince a Romulan prisoner to pick up a weapon. The Romulan was pointedly ignoring him.

Somewhere, an engineer was apologizing to an unconscious body.

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | V. 1 | D. 2 | Diplomatic Suite ]

Enyd's green eyes tracked the exchange between Kino and Jaeih with the analytical precision she'd honed over years of diplomatic negotiations—though only a few of those negotiations involved quite so much creative profanity. The ship shuddered again under another barrage, and she felt that familiar burn of controlled fury in her chest, the same fire that had kept her alive through Cardassia, through torture, through watching Javec bleed out in her arms.

*Damn it, Donatra.*

But this wasn't about Donatra. Not yet. This was about Jaeih—arrogant, manipulative, and currently offering exactly what Enyd needed, even if the Romulan's motivations were as transparent as transparisteel.

She moved forward, her movements deliberate and controlled despite the adrenaline singing through her veins. Her grandmother would have called what she was about to do "Montana pragmatism"—doing what needed to be done, regardless of how messy it got.

"Jaeih," Enyd began, her Mid-Atlantic accent crisp and clear as she folded her arms across her chest. "Your timing is impeccable, I'll give you that. Almost as if you were waiting for precisely the right moment of desperation to make your grand entrance." She paused, letting a sardonic smile curve her lips. "Though I suppose that's rather the point of good intelligence work, isn't it?"

The ship shook again, and Enyd's smile faded, replaced by the steel-hard determination that had earned her both commendations and censure throughout her career.

"Here's what you need to understand before we go any further with this little arrangement." Enyd took a step closer to Jaeih, close enough that the Romulan would have no doubt about the sincerity of her words. "Commander Stark has already given me clearance to lead a team aboard Donatra's flagship. Not to negotiate a ceasefire—that ship, pardon the expression, has sailed the moment she went dark on all our hails and started shooting."

Enyd's voice dropped, taking on the matter-of-fact tone she'd used countless times when explaining harsh political realities to idealistic junior diplomats. "I'm going over there to confront Donatra directly, to demand her surrender while another team deals with her thalaron weapon. We've already been given the green light."

She let that information settle for a moment, watching Jaeih's expression for any flicker of surprise or recalculation. Diplomacy was, at its core, the art of managing information—when to reveal it, when to withhold it, and how to use it to maximum advantage.

"So yes, Jaeih, I will absolutely accept your offer of assistance." Enyd's tone remained pleasant, almost conversational, as if they were discussing trade agreements rather than a potentially suicidal mission. "Your intimate knowledge of the flagship's layout could prove invaluable. But let's be crystal clear about the stakes here."

Enyd ticked off points on her fingers. "First: If you're leading us into a trap—which, let's be honest, is absolutely what Kino thinks you're doing—you will die. Probably by Donatra's hand when she realizes you've betrayed her. Possibly by Kino's hand when she realizes you've betrayed *us*. Either way, I'm not authorizing anyone to stop either woman from killing you."

"Second:" Enyd continued, her green eyes hardening as she held Jaeih's gaze. "If you're genuinely interested in those 'assurances regarding the future of your people' that you mentioned, you might want to take a good look at the tactical display. There's a new Romulan-Reman faction that has announced its presence on the outskirts of this battlefield. Perfectly capable of wiping us all out—Donatra's forces, the Klingons, the Theurgy, everyone—but they're hanging back. Watching. Waiting to see how this plays out before they make their move."

She let that sink in, watching for any reaction. This was the gambit—the information that would either solidify Jaeih's cooperation or expose her true allegiances.

"So ask yourself, Jaeih," Enyd said, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper despite the noise of battle around them. "Which faction do you want to place your bets on? Donatra, who's already demonstrated she's willing to fire on allies the moment they don't comply with her every demand? Us, who've been trying desperately to maintain this alliance despite every reason to abandon it? Or that new faction out there, the one that could reshape the entire political landscape of the Romulan Star Empire?"

Enyd straightened, her diplomatic mask slipping back into place as she addressed both Jaeih and Kino. "The way I see it, you have three options. Die with Donatra when her ship is destroyed or she executes you for treachery. Die with us if you betray us and Kino makes good on her very colorful threats. Or help us end this engagement quickly, survive, and actually have a voice in whatever comes next for your people when that new faction makes their move."

Enyd's expression softened slightly as she looked at Kino—the Trill who'd become a friend through shared chaos and the kind of dark humor that only came from surviving multiple near-death experiences. "I'm asking you to trust my judgment here. Keep your rifle trained on her every step of the way if it makes you feel better—and frankly, it makes *me* feel better too. But we're going to use what she's offering, because right now, it's the best chance we have to end this without everyone dying."

She turned back to Jaeih, and the warmth drained from her expression, replaced by the cold calculation of someone who'd learned the hard way that diplomacy sometimes required dancing with vipers.

"So here's the deal, Jaeih. You get us onto that flagship. You help us reach Donatra. If your intelligence proves accurate and you don't betray us, I'll personally advocate for whatever 'assurances' you need when this is over. I may be a Federation diplomat, but I've got contacts—" she thought briefly of Anderson, of V'Lani, of all the strings that had been pulled throughout her life "—and I keep my promises."

"But if you fuck us," Enyd added, her Montana roots showing through in the blunt profanity, "you won't live long enough to regret it. Kino will make sure of that. And if by some miracle you survive her, I'll make it my personal mission to ensure the rest of your very short life is spectacularly unpleasant."

The threat hung in the air, and Enyd knew it was genuine. The diplomat who'd once naively believed in justice and truth had died in a secret holding on Cardassia. The woman who stood here now was harder, sharper, willing to do whatever was necessary to protect her crew and complete her mission.

"So," Enyd said, her tone shifting back to something approaching professional courtesy. "Are we doing this, or do I need to find another way onto that flagship? Because one way or another, I'm going. The only question is whether you're coming with us or going into a holding cell."

She glanced at Kino, then back at Jaeih, waiting for the Romulan's response. Behind her diplomatic composure, Enyd's mind was already racing through contingencies. Plan A: Use Jaeih's knowledge to infiltrate the flagship. Plan B: Improvise something equally insane if Jaeih proved unreliable. Plan C: Well, Plan C usually involved a lot of running and hoping someone had a better idea.

The ship shuddered again, a reminder that time was running out.

"What's it going to be?" Enyd asked. "Because we need to move. Now."

Her green eyes never left Jaeih's face, reading every micro-expression, every subtle shift in body language. This was what she'd been trained for—not just negotiating treaties in comfortable conference rooms, but making life-or-death calls in the middle of chaos, with incomplete information and impossible odds.

*Cowboy diplomacy,* she thought with dark humor. *Anderson always said it would either get me promoted or killed.*

Given their current situation, she figured it was about fifty-fifty which one it would be.
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