Star Trek: Theurgy

EPISODE 03: Unconquerable Soul | Prologue: Under the Bludgeonings of Chance | Part II

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OOC: This post is a placeholder for scenes that will happen aboard the USS Archeron. It takes place a couple of minutes into the future.

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USS Archeron, Deck 07, Admiral Staff's Quarters

The drop out of warp was enough to startle Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent from his dozing. The translation back to sub-light velocities was one that he, as an experienced Starfleet officer, was familiar with. The slight shift of the deck, the nearly imperceptible feeling accompanying the brutal deceleration the inertial dampers could never quite fully compensate for. And, after two months of chasing claims of sightings, rumours and long-range sensor readings, Task Force Archeron had finally caught up with its quarry.

Straightening into his chair, Trent reached with his left hand to bring his seat closer to the console in his quarters, the exposed prosthetic scraping against the table as he did so. And, no sooner had he straighten himself up that the dread klaxon of Red Alert sounded through the ship, accompanied by a familiar voice in the ship-wide broadcast: "This is Admiral Sankolov. We have found the renegades. Remember, they have forsaken Starfleet and the Federation. They are not your colleagues and comrades anymore. Do your duty and let us put an end to this mutiny. Make me proud; make your comrades proud; make yourselves proud. Sankolov out."

You have no idea what you are in for, Admiral, was the unspoken thought that instantly echoed in Carrigan's mind as he accessed his console and accessed the data that was already there, just waiting to be brought to the forefront. This piece of information he retrieved was a singular computer program, and once his remaining hand hit the button that would execute it, he was challenged by the security protocols. "Computer, authenticate Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent, three-seven-four-nine Epsilon. Initiate Soup Sandwich."

And he could not help his smirk, and his recollection.

The twenty-four captains of Task Force Archeron, Admiral Sankolov and his staff were gathered in the Archeron's lounge for a strategy meeting, and before long, options to engage the renegade vessels Theurgy and Harbinger were discussed. One captain was the first to provide a suggestion. "Admiral, these ships could be hard to replace in short notice. I suggest we transmit their command codes and secure them without firing a shot."

And that was when Trent snickered and made himself heard. "Captain O'Langton, if you honestly believe Jien Ives would leave the option of Starfleet using his ship's command codes unchanged or even accessible from the outside, I have some ocean-front property in Vulcan I can sell you." While there was some laughter from around the table, the offended Captain was quick to show his outrage. "And who do you think you are, Lieutenant Commander, to talk to me like this, let alone in a command-level meeting?"

It was the Admiral who spoke next. "Ladies and gentlemen, meet Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent from Starfleet Intelligence and attached to my staff. And unless I read you improperly, Mister Trent, you have a suggestion in mind?"

The crippled officer stood from his chair, his artificial left lower leg clanging against his seat in the process. "Yes Sir, I do. Captain O'Langton is thinking about it the wrong way around but the idea of the soft-kill has merit. I was toying with the concept ever since I read the reports about the Breen weapon at the Second Battle of Chin'toka. It will take some doing and a lot of coffee, but I think I can find a way not only to disable these ships but also incapacitate their crews without firing a shot."

Sankolov did not even wait for other opinions when he nodded. "Then that is your priority, Mister Trent. Use whatever resources you need and do your magic."

And that meeting had led to two months of work and it was not two days prior to the fleet catching up to the Theurgy that Trent had put the finishing touches to his program, including its name, Soup Sandwich, after an expression he was rather fond off: more fucked up than a soup sandwich. And if it worked, then its recipients would indeed be, as another expression went, completely FUBAR.

As soon as the command had been given, Trent wasted no time in affixing his phaser and tricorder holsters to his waist, throw his lucky black coat on over his uniform, slip a PADD in one of his coat's many pockets and to sling the duffel bag containing a few possessions and a pair of precious data cubes across his back. Only then did he look back at his console, and he swore. His program was not dispersing as it should be. Furiously, he pounded at the keys. There was nothing wrong with the codes and the parameters. The problem was with the Archeron's computer system: red alert had set consoles in quarters on a secondary network, isolated from the primary system Trent required. And, after several minutes of trying to redirect the virus, he went for his last resort. "Computer, connect this console to the primary ODN network, Intelligence override Trent Theta-two-nine-one."

And it was within moments of saying these words that his console began to flicker as the computer virus began attacking the Archeron's systems.

It was a good thing Carrigan was well-prepared, for it was just as he strapped a flashlight to his mechanical left arm that main power and the lights went dead.

Wasting no time, the intelligence officer forced his quarters' door open and made his way down the dark corridor, weaving his way past crew members who had absolutely no idea what had just happened. If only they knew, he thought silently as he headed for the nearest turbolift. And no sooner did he pass the door to Sickbay the he felt his feet lifting completely off the deck. Artificial gravity had just shut down, and incidentally all turbo lifts would have grounded at the bottom of their shafts. I don't have much more time, thought Trent as he floated to the end of the corridor, dodging bubbles of floating vomit from a hopelessly nauseous Ensign as he did so, and once reaching his destination, he started to work at forcing the turbolift shaft door open. He had to get to the main shuttlebay on Deck 6 and get off this ship...





OOC: TheBanshee, all yours now.

Cinn felt the gravity shut down and his feet lift from the deck.  "What in the name of the Prophets is going on here?" he thought to himself as he began to float, he gripped the door and began to pull himself through but quickly pulled himself back into the sickbay as a dark figure in a long, black coat shot past.  That was a man on a mission but who was he and what the hell was he doing?

Floating forward he peered out and watched as the stranger pried open the doors to a turbolift.  Well if he wanted to do that it would save Cinn a job at least.  Waiting until the stranger had disappeared he followed, dodging that same floating vomit before slipping through the open doors and heading to Deck 6 where he knew the shuttle bay would be, thanks be for previous assignments.  The sooner he got out of here the better, whatever was happening to this ship he wanted to be far away from it and back on his own before the power and gravity came back online.

There was no sign of the stranger as he progressed and he wasn't hanging around.  It was possible the stranger was heading to some repairs but there was a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that he hadn't seen the last of him. 

The doors were closed to the shuttlebay as he arrived.  He pried them open enough to get through and once inside shut them again.  Getting out was one thing but he didn't want to unnecessarily waste life by having the atmosphere vented as he left.  On his way to a shuttle he stopped at a panel and pulled out a phaser, just in case he told himself. 

The door was already open on the shuttle, cautiously he entered and began to float towards the cockpit.  A noise made him flatten himself to the wall, the door slid closed and the engines thrummed as they warmed up.  Since out was where he was wanting to go he didn't argue the point, he braced himself for the gravity to take hold again and landed as gently as he could in the circumstances.  The engines' sound grew louder and Cinn realised they were moving, clearly the pilot, whoever he was, was as eager to get off this boat as he was.

Stepping forward he raised his phaser and pointed it at the figure in the chair, "Put your hands where I can see them and stand up, turn around slowly and identify yourself."

The turbolift door on Deck 7 did require some brute force to be opened, but after a short float up the shaft, the access to a Deck 6 was practically effortless. Indeed, Trent did not even need to fumble with the door itself as he had spotted the manual override on his way up. However, without power to actuate the sliding panels, Carrigan still needed to pry it open, his legs providing the leverage against the frame and his synthetic hand grasping at the metal. Never thought I'd ever be thankful for losing a hand, thought the Intelligence Officer once he managed to create an opening wide enough to go through. Indeed, the amount of effort required for this latest task and the sharpness of the corners would have most likely caused some severe lacerations to a biological limb.

Deck 6 was complete and utter chaos. Officers and enlisted alike were shouting back and forth, trying to get messages across each other while others were yelling the few computer panels that hadn't gone complete dark yet or trying to access a communication grid that was the first thing to go down. Christ, what a clusterfuck, thought Trent as he made his way down the hallway, his prosthetic left arm extended in front of him with his flashlight, his right providing the motive power to cross the distance. There were no doubts in Carrigan's mind that the virus he had devised was an effective soft-kill weapon. However, he still had to figure out just how effective it was. And he had no intentions of sticking around long enough to see how long it would take for the USS Archeron to be functional again. However, a nice long while was what he had designed Soup Sandwich for.

It took some doing, but eventually he reached the shuttlebay and once again he used the manual override to open them. Once he threaded his way through, this time actually needing to unsling his duffel bag first, Trent wasted no time in shutting the doors behind him. For he knew time was short before the atmospheric containment field would shut down, exposing the bay to the void of space as the outer doors, courtesy of Soup Sandwich, were already open and the servos seized into place in such a way that they would need physical replacement to shut again. And there was no way he would risk decompressing at least two decks to make his escape.

At first there was the worst pain he could imagine, then only it's memory. But still, Commander Carrigan Trent's vision was filled with the afterimage of the plasma conduit rupturing and his ears ringing from the conflagration. He was on the deck, and when he tried to push himself up, it is only then that he screamed. His left arm was burnt, badly burnt. In fact, from the elbow down there was no intact flesh left and his hand and fingers were nothing but charred bones holding together with nothing but fused cartilage. However, he still managed to attempt to stand, but he collapsed again. His left leg would not bear him. And looking down, he could tell why: it had suffered the same fate as his arm, save for the fact that his foot had been completely severed by the explosion.

However, there was no time to think. His ship, his one and only starship command, the USS Harrier, was being systematically demolished by the Jem'Hadar fighters that had ambushed her and he was the last man to make his way to the escape pods. Indeed, such was a leader's way, to see to one's subordinates before himself. And although there were bit three pips on his collar, he was still the ship's captain.

But Trent never made it to the escape pods. His good hand was clawing for purchase as his remaining leg was pushing him onwards when the bulkhead twenty meters from him burst and the rush of escaping atmosphere deafened him. Smoke swirled about him, fires were snuffed out and he was ejected into open space. He remembered the cold, his vision blurring as the moisture was sucked from his eyes, his eardrums rupturing and the agonizing pain of his body literally tearing apart from the inside. And, in this rare occasion, he remembered the tingling of the transporter beam that enveloped him before he sank into darkness.

The flashback had been violent. And, knowing first-hand the horrors of being exposed to open space, he would never wish it on anyone. Perhaps the crew of the Archeron was following the orders of an imposter but these were Starfleet officers and crewmen in board, good men, women and asexual aliens who were following orders in good faith, honestly thinking they were hunting down a threat to the Federation instead of their most faithful protectors. And while a part of him knew his actions would cost the lives of innocents, Carrigan Trent had programmed his virus so it could be given parameters as to its effects, and he had set it to disable its target in such a way as to minimize the loss of life.

Shaking off the traumatic memories, Trent floated his way to the stand-by shuttle, in this case a full-size runabout. His entry was swift and not wasting a moment, the crippled officer made his way forward, tossing his duffel under a console along the way. Once he pulled himself into a seat and strapped himself in, he brought his getaway ship's systems online, his stomach lurching as the 9.8 meters per second squared of standard gravity exerted their force on him again. And that was when he heard something behind him; he had picked up a passenger. However, there was no time to do anything about it, for the atmospheric containment field had just failed and there was no way he would ever consider spacing a man in cold blood. However, he did draw his phaser and held it in his lap as he launched the shuttle from the now dead in space Archeron.

Trent had expected to be challenged, and when he was, he was somewhat surprised at the cool but surprisingly civil tone of the man behind him. " I'd rather stay seated," replied the Intelligence Officer as he slowly swivelled his chair towards the would-be passenger, his phaser's business end lined up with the source of the voice. Carrigan took a moment to examine his stowaway. A Bajoran male, powerfully built, wearing a tattered uniform, wearing the yellow of Operations, Engineering or Security, a a Lieutenant Commander by the pips on his collar.  And instantaneous recognition flashed in Carrigan's mind.

What the fuck, that man was spaced for hours, he's dead in the fucking morgue! The thought nearly caused Trent to raise his weapon instead of keeping his aim from where it was in his lap, but his voice was still incredulous. "If you really must know, I am Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent, Starfleet Intelligence and attached to Admiral Sankolov's staff up until about ten minutes ago. And seeing how you were very publicly dead, it is safe to say you aren't one of these things all over Starfleet Command, Lieutenant Commander Wenn." It was a simple tactic, using this Bajoran's name and rank, and a way to let him know he was indeed well-informed. But then again, Trent wanted that weapon pointed somewhere else than at him. There was no telling if this Bajoran zombie (or whatever it is) had that thing set on stun or to vaporize him on the spot.

"Now, I'm on my way to the Theurgy. And if they still have that half-Klingon XO and that Nausicaan at Tactical, and if Captain Ives is pissed off enough, their trigger fingers might be a little itchy. Not to mention the rest of this here fleet. So mind if I get us the fuck out of here before we get turned to scrap?"

The figure that spun around in the chair held a phaser too.  Unsurprising perhaps but this led to one of those stalemate situations that rarely ended well.  The man began to talk, identifying himself.  That was a good start at least, perhaps this situation could be diffused yet.  He listened carefully, considering every word the man said and watching his body language for any sign of deception.  Of course with him being Starfleet Intelligence the chances of him slipping up and displaying said deception were remote.

"The report of my death was an exaggeration it seems," he began whilst weighing up his options.  This Lieutentant-Commander Trent seemed to know about the infiltration of Starfleet but was that because he had seen something suspicious or because he was one himself?  At this point it was not going to be an easy issue to clear up and returning to the Theurgy was Cinn's priority.  Trust wasn't an option but neither was remaining here in a stand-off.

"As a Starfleet Intelligence officer I would be disappointed if you hadn't reeled off a list of facts to try and prove yourself," he smirked, "but it doesn't impress me.  You know that the Theurgy is my preferred destination and since we both want to get there I won't stand in your way.  I'll just stand back here, in case you decide to make a detour or accidentally do something stupid."

"You know," he added, "it might be easier to get on board if Jien hears from me rather than some Intel officer who could just be trying to infiltrate.  I know I'm technically dead but the chance of me actually somehow surviving would be too great a risk to turn down... I hope anyway.  Get us closer and then open a secure channel."

The easy tone of his words belied the stress of the situation but currently there was no need for any aggression and until there was he would remain passive but defensive.  Cinn waved the phaser in a gesture of 'go on' and held his ground.  The weapon was no longer held as a direct threat to the man at the controls but as a warning against doing anything he shouldn't.

Back to the Theurgy, back to the fight against the infiltration of Starfleet.  The memory of those final moments as he was dragged out into the vacuum of space came back as he thought about his return.  It wasn't the physical pain that hurt the most, it was that he had let down his comrades and that he would never see his homeworld again.

All those people on that ship who had relied on him.  He may have let them down once but the Prophets had given him a second chance.  He wouldn't let them down or waste the opportunity he'd been given.

It had been so long since he had been home to Bajor he wondered if he would even recognise it anymore, he'd kept saying he would go back, kept promising that the leave he'd saved up he would take and go home.  He'd never done it.  If the chance ever arose again he wouldn't turn it down.  No more holding back on any front, he did not want to feel those regrets again.

Trent might not be one of these Starfleet Intelligence officers specializing in covert operations, these men and women with warp core coolant in their veins, but he could manage to appear calm while being at the business end of a phaser. His passenger, though, did seem to be one of these types who actually thrived under these conditions.

"Look, Wenn, I'm not trying to impress you. You asked a question, I answered you and I'm not the kind to play dumb or to bullshit. I'm not an operative, I'm an analyst with a few tricks up his sleeve and I work openly. And I don't like people playing dumb with me either. So how about we cut the shit?"

Carrigan's own weapon remained fixed in the Bajoran as he considered this fellow returned from the dead. There were so many questions unanswered here, but according to his personnel file, Wenn Cinn was a deeply spiritual individual. And considering the sheer amount of reports about their deities and their actions, then just maybe that man had been affected much in the way reports stated they had with the late Ben Sisko. "As for your death, I've seen your body on a slab. You were as dead as last week's fish. How or why you're here right now, all I can say with some degree of certainty is that you aren't one of these things. But let's discuss that later, shall we?"

"Now like I said, I'm going to the Theurgy. I don't really care whether your preferred destination is there or in your Celestial Temple, unless you try to stop me." Still, the Intelligence officer was unyielding. But at the Bajoran's final words, Trent shook his head. Perhaps he was no expert in these sort of things, but only a fool would have complied instantly.

"I don't think so. Maybe you Security types are all right turning your back to someone who just had a phaser on you, but that's just not my style. What's to stop you from shooting me the moment I take my eyes off you? So tell you what. I think you are who you say you are so unless you try something stupid, I'm not planning to stun you. How about you toss your phaser under one of these side consoles, I'll do the same and you come sit right here next to me and strap yourself in. That way you get to see what I'm doing while I keep my eye on you and we both get where we want to be."

As he finished talking, Trent took his weapon's aim away from the Bajoran, holding it between his last two fingers and his palm, his thumb and forefinger well-clear of it. It was not much but it was a gesture of conciliation. He knew both men needed to cooperate and fast. But the human was far too careful to trust blindly.

"I think I'll talk to the Theurgy first. Look out the front and tell me what state Sankolov's fleet is in. Trust me, Captain Ives will want to talk to me."

Indeed, Carrigan Trent knew what was out there, the fruits of two months of programming and coding, twenty-four starships adrift and dead in space. And if disabling an entire task force wasn't a bona fide display of his commitment to the cause of joining the Theurgy, her captain and her crew, he didn't know what could be.

Part of him couldn't blame this augmented human for being so suspicious, the other part however felt a twinge of annoyance at his refusal to co-operate with instructions.  It wasn't something he was used to, taking orders from superior officer was one thing but this Intel man was contradictory and something about the guy just itched.  Cinn tried to put it to one side, they both wanted to get to the same place and at this rate neither would get the opportunity.

The phaser in his hand rose and fell with each breath, each one another opportunity to shoot the human gone.  He listened, still deciding whether or not to trust him.  He could shoot, take control himself and get back to the Theurgy or he could see where this went.  Cinn didn't want to shoot a man who was simply trying to do the right thing so he would listen a little longer.

So he had seen Cinn on the slab?  Well that would explain a few things.  Considering Cinn was still trying to come to terms with what had happened it was hardly likely that someone who had seen his dead body lying there in front of them could fully comprehend what had happened. 

He watched as the human held out the phaser as a gesture of truce.  At this point neither had much of a choice but to agree to the truce and get to their destination, trusting that Ives would deal with the matter once they were safely aboard.

Still holding his phaser outstretched in one hand, up to eye level and trained on the man, Cinn stepped forward a little further and looked out of the viewscreen in front of them as he had been asked.  Nothing could prepare him for what he witnessed and his jaw dropped a little as he watched the lights on each ship in the fleet blink out as though a switch had been flipped.  It crossed the whole fleet, one ship after another going dark and drifting in space.  Finally every ship was just a patch of grey against the black background.

Slowly Cinn lowered his hand before he dropped his phaser and kicked it to one side before heading to the chair beside the human and sitting down.  He didn't look at the man, his gaze still held by the unbelievable sight in front of him, "Alright.  You've convinced me.  You had better try hailing the Theurgy."

His fingers danced across the console, looking at the sensor readings from the ships and shaking his head in bewilderment, "What the hell have you done?"

The wait between Carrigan's words and the Bajoran's decision felt like a hundred years, but when he made his way forward to look at the viewscreen, the Intelligence officer could not help his change of expression. Indeed  a mix of amusement at Wenn's reaction and the pride of such a job well-done could not be contained. But then again, it was not every day that someone deployed an untested soft-kill weapon and it needed only a minor tweak in order to be as effective as it theoretically could be.

Once the security officer's phaser clattered to the deck, Trent followed suit and simply flicked his wrist. The weapon had a short flight before it too landed and skidded somewhere out of the way. Truth be told, the man was glad the situation had been resolved without violence. The Theurgy had few enough allies without shooting any of them.

Once enjoined to contact the renegade starship, Trent simply nodded. "Just let me get us clear from the fleet first. Even adrift, one of these ships could crush us if it connects." Having said that, Carrigan started piloting the liberated runabout away from the drifting vessels, and as he avoided a large container that had obviously been ejected from a decompressed shuttlebay, the Human let slip a vicious string of curses. Indeed, as he rounded the container, a dead and frozen Starfleet officer collided with the runabout before being sent deeper into space. Sweet Jesus, how many did I kill?

The thought remained unvoiced for now and Trent suppressed if for the time being and instead proceeded to answer Wenn's incredulous question, a most welcome distraction at this point. "Sankolov wanted me to come up with a soft-kill option to retake the Theurgy and the Harbinger. Long story short, I used a combination of Borg programming algorithms, Starfleet heuristics, a very specific method of attachment and and nice data-sharing link throughout the task force and distributed a virus that attacks the firmware in damn near every key system to do what I tell it to. Most of these officers and crewmen, they have nothing to do with the infiltrators and their only involvement is following orders in good faith. I couldn't just kill life support or drop their antimatter containment. So instead, I shut them down, giving us and the Theurgy a chance to escape."

As he finished his explanation, the runabout cleared the danger area and Trent's fingers, natural and otherwise, danced on his console and he finally opened hailing frequencies, in the clear, and spoke.

"USS Theurgy, this is Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent and one passenger on this runabout. Captain Ives, we are responsible for the fleet's situation and we are trying to join you and have some information you need. Request immediate landing clearance. Please acknowledge."

[ USS Theurgy | Main Bridge | Deck 01 ]

At this point, the entire Bridge Crew was staring upon the viewscreen, at the drifting cascade of starship vessels before them. They remained cloaked, lights dimmed, for they had no idea what may have caused what they were seeing.

Given the timing, Jien's thoughts had gone to the idea that the activation of the Theurgy's and the Harbinger's cloaking devices had somehow caused this, yet it seemed even more likely that the Calamity was behind it. Was it a weapon from the future? Sarresh Morali was not present to tell if there were any temporal anomalies taking place, so her incredulous ruminations did not lead anywhere...

...until there was a hail incoming. Judging it safe enough, Jien nodded to patch it through.

[... is Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent and one passenger on this runabout. Captain Ives, we are responsible for the fleet's situation and we are trying to join you and have some information you need. Request immediate landing clearance...]

Responsible for the fleet's situation? Jien looked around at the Bridge crew before answering, being like the rest of them a bit sceptic as to how such a thing was possible. "Yellow Alert. Tovarek, decloak, and return power to standard SOM settings. Stark, open a channel to the runabout. On screen."

She stepped forward from her chair and changed... to his male form, since he'd rather put the ordeal they had just faced behind him somehow. "This is Captain Ives of the USS Theurgy," he said, the viewscreen lighting up and showing a man with greying hair in the pilot seat. There was an arm and a shoulder visible on the edge of the screen showing the mentioned passenger. "You may understand, Lieutenant Commander, that while I am intrigued, I need to verify your identity and your claim. You are, however, free to dock in the Fighter Assault Bay, where a security detail will await you. Theurgy out."

He knew the shuttle bay was a mess after the hasty departure from Theta Eridani IV, with injured people littering the bay area as much as damaged shuttles. The name of the Lieutenant Commander was vaguely familiar somehow, but Jien could not yet place it. "Winterbourne, fall back to the rendezvous-point in the KNZ for the time being. Full impulse. The Harbinger will follow us there. We will hide until we pick a new course into the Alpha Quadrant. Fedd, I want a complete overview of our tactical systems after this ordeal. What kind of ordinance do we have left? Lin Kae, inform Tatiana Marlowe that I want a complete damage report. Tovarek, work with her and Thea to find out how troublesome this cloak might be for us. Activate the cloak again after the shuttle has landed. Number One, accompany me to the flight hangar. Commander Stark, you have the Bridge."

As he left together with Commander Rez, Jien tapped his combadge. "Ives to Ensign Henshaw. I need the personnel file on an individual going by Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent. Whatever you can find. Meet up with me and Commander Rez in the Fighter Assault Bay."

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OOC: TheBanshee and CanadianVet, leave it open-ended at the point where they step out of the shuttle in the Fighter Assault Bay.

Trent was nervous. His virus had proven to be quite virulent, and while he had set very clear parameters as to its dispersion, through the data-sharing network the vessels of Task Force Archeron shared, there reminded a chance it would keep on hunting and seek out any other Starfleet heuristics and attack them as well. And where was the Theurgy? Where was the Harbinger? There was no sign of either vessel on sensors. Had they found a way to mask themselves, or were they dead in space as well?

However, the answer came fast as a sensor alert blared on the runabout's console as a massive spike of energy showed and the Theurgy, shortly followed by the Harbinger, reappeared in sensors. The reading made no sense to the experienced Human officer. And if he did not know better, he could have sworn a pair of Romulan ships had just dropped their cloak.  There goes the treaty, immediately thought the Intelligence man. The next thought through his mind was about how desperate Ives would have had to be to make such a move, especially given his latest interactions with the Romulans.

At least, the halo was answered and it was Captain Ives in his male form that responded. And once the careful docking clearance was granted, Carrigan did not even have a chance to acknowledge. However, he did begin to pilot the runabout towards the fighter bay, laying a lazy, predictable course at a slow speed. Pat this point, aggressive maneuvering or a high speed would be less than advisable.

 As the auxiliary craft was making its way towards the Theurgy, Trent rotated his seat towards his unexpected passenger and undid his seat's restraints. "Well Wenn, looks like we're getting our wish. Ives and the rest of the crew, I'll vouch to them for you as much as I can. I hope I can expect the same from you?"

However, there was no time to get a reply as the runabout came to a stop, lined up with the fighter bay and Carrigan resumed control and landed his craft well in the open and in front of the awaiting security detail. Once the runabout touched down, Trent wasted no time in shutting down the ship and opening the hatch and when he rose, he drew the PADD from his coat pocket and held it in his right hand  while his left gathered his duffel bag and he headed for the open door. Before standing in the opening, he loudly called out. "This is Lieutenant Commander Trent. We are coming out. I am holding a PADD and a bag, but I am unarmed."

Having given this heads-up, the Intelligence officer stepped off his captured vessel, holding his burdens well-clear of his body. A few steps away from the runabout, he set down the bag and stood there, still holding the PADD and awaiting the questions he knew would come.

As Trent piloted the shuttle away from the floating fleet Cinn couldn't help but shudder as a frozen body clipped the hull and went spinning away with the obtained inertia.  That was him not so long ago.  He remembered each moment as though it was a lifetime it had taken.  He heard Ida's shout.  Felt the pull of the pressure trying to reach equilibrium.  The indescribably cold that tore through every fibre of his being until his vision had faded to black and there was no more.

The voice beside him brought him back to reality and he focussed on that to try and push the negative thoughts from his mind.  Cinn nodded approvingly, a small smirk appearing on his lips as the human explained what had happened.  So the weapon created in order to render the Theurgy impotent had been turned on the predators with some incredible style too.  There was no small dose of irony in that.

With the lack of hostility there was little for Cinn to do while Trent piloted the shuttle away from the fleet so he turned to try and find where the Theurgy had gone.  There was nothing showing.  There had to be something wrong.  Maybe this shuttle had had some kind of sensor problem and was being repaired when they had boarded it.  Trent opened a channel to hail them and Cinn hoped that they weren't so far away that they couldn't receive it.

The power spike was obvious on the consoles in front of them and for a second time since entering this shuttle Cinn was speechless and in shock.  Jien must have been in a desperate position to have resorted to a cloaking device and risk the treaty.  Well it was done now and they would just have to deal with any fallout if and when it happened. 

Trent's last statement was never in doubt, the next few hours aboard the Theurgy were definitely going to be interesting in the Earth proverb from China kind of way.  He simply nodded and stood to follow Trent as he landed the shuttle and moved to the door.  A small part of him was amused that the human hadn't mentioned who his passenger was at all during either the conversation with Jien or the call to the security details that would no doubt be waiting for them to disembark.  That same part wondered who would be pulling the most shocked face.

Cinn took a deep breath and stepped forwards, hands raised, palms outward and fingers splayed in the ancient method to demonstrate surrender.  His eyes were lowered as he watched his step out of the shuttle, a triumphant return from the dead would be somewhat spoiled by falling arse over elbow as he came back aboard his ship.  It wasn't until he was stood beside his fellow fugitive that he stopped and raised his gaze.

Fighter assault bay

The mood was strange as Miles watched the shuttle approach.  He couldn't help but be astonished at the turn of events.  Most surprisingly was the cloaking device but almost equally surprising was the revelation that there was a shuttle headed their way with what could best be described as a defector who had rendered a whole search and destroy fleet not only defenseless but adrift.  Slowly he watched as the shuttle made its way into the bay.

Moments ago he had ordered the other wolves to join the security detail who had arrived and noted that the XO and Captain both were headed for the bay.  Not the best of ideas in his own opinion as this could easily be some form of trap with the goal being to kill both of the command level officers and leave them in disarray at best.

Now the stage was set.  The shuttle landed and the occupants were exiting.  The first he noticed was the Pilot who had a prosthetic arm.   The other though drew his attention much more.   Miles had known little more about Cinn than he was chief security officer but recalled upon his reemergence from the buffers that among the changes in the command structure Cinn had died due to being sucked out into the vacuum of space.  Oh the irony then that was presented when Miles was noticing the figure of a Former CSO who was but a ghost in his memory.  While Cin saw the Vulpinian Pilot who was supposed to be dead now leading his other wolves in the security detail as their SCO.  It was a literal case of two ghosts facing each other.

Rather than the joy of seeing another face return Miles couldn't feel fully exited.  He knew more about their enemy now than he had before.  He had seen the debriefings what a host to these beings could do.  A frail host at that, injured, unarmed, and a being who shouldn't have even been physically impressive.  Not only that but It was clear these things were capable of great feats of healing.  What if Cinn was one of these beings now.  What if his resurrection was the work of these things.  What if he was a trap of sorts waiting to be sprung.  What scared him the most was he knew the capabilities of this officer.  This Bajoran was more than physically impressive but had survived a lot.  If the augmentations that occurred in their prisoner was scaled to a person like Cinn then he could only imagine the physical strength one of these parasites would have in the body of someone like Cinn.  If he was their enemy in disguise than for lack of a better way of saying it...they were fucked.  He now understood what suspicions Ida must have been plagued with regarding Carver.

Still Miles didn't show the suspicions that plagued the back of his mind.  They were less distrust and more preparation for the worst possible scenario.  Really he was glad to see the Security officer return.  At least from what he remembered the Bajoran was competent at his job unlike a certain person he had butted heads with recently.  For now though Miles simply stood with his hands on the rifle prepared to use it only if absolutely necessary.

---

(( OOC: Summation of events prior to current involving Cinn and Miles Knowledge of each others status regarding alive or dead.:

During a battle while Miles was not SCO but just a pilot in the squadron Miles executed a dangerous maneuver and his ship was destroyed.  He was presumed dead due to malfunction in the emergency transporter onboard the fighter.   Cinn would until this point think that Miles is dead.

During another battle prior to ep 1 Cinn was "killed"

MIles' Patturn was found within the transporter buffers and as such he was recovered.  AS such he experienced no passage of time and had to be informed of how long he had been presumed dead.  He was brought up to speed on the changes in the ship's personel (deaths and the like) and was also promoted from lt to Lt cmdr.  And placed as SCO of the lone wolves as he was the ranking officer of the currently living squadron. and had the most combat flight experience and leadership experience (prior to his time in the Federation).
It is at this point that Miles would have learned of Cinn's death. He didnt know Cinn that well but from what he could tell he felt that security was doing its job well and ths its chief officer must therefore be doing a good job as well.  He really had no opinion of Cinn other than Not my department seems like he's doing a good jogb in his I guess.  None of my business.

Present Cinn stepped out of the shuttle and when/if sees Miles he may recognize the current SCO as a person he had thought to have died before his accident.  In other words Miles being alive would probably be just as strange to him as Cinn being alive is to everyone else.

Sickbay...

She'd felt numb and the cacophony around her had put her off balance.  Not that there was much order to be had.  Lisa was gone. Rennan....Rennan was dead.  She glanced toward the door to the morgue, where a pair of crew members had silently moved Rennan's body.  Lisa's body would never be accounted for, would it?  She thought as tears started to pool in her eyes.  All she wanted to do was find a dark corner and hide.

An agonizing scream pulled her from her thoughts.  Any remaining color blanched from her face as the emotion and pain from the horrifically injured fellow crew and staff members around her once more penetrated her grief.  Shifting the burn ointment from one hand to the other, she turned quickly to assist as best she could.  Pausing to speak to people, she had slowly made her way toward the entrance where a medic was triaging the injured; relocating the walking wounded to the large room across the corridor and the more severe carried into the sickbay. 

She'd kept moving, just dealing with the person in front of her.  Focusing on the task at hand...cleaning, assessing, comforting.... anything to keep from thinking of ... Once more she gritted her teeth and forced herself to bury her emotions.   At least Ives was safe, she thought briefly as she recounted how the Captain and Sarresh had beamed into the sickbay.   There had been probably twenty-five people, stretchers and all sorts of medical equipment between them.  Cam was used to fading into the background.  She grimaced and glanced down at herself. 

She was out of uniform and still in her running gear from the day prior.  Her lean muscular legs, arms and torso were covered in grime, ash, blood and who knows what else.  She had shaken her head negatively to one injured crew member and ash had actually flown from her hair.  She was fairly well camouflaged, in fact she looked like a street urchin.  So for her Captain to not have given her immediate orders - well it was understandable.  The Captain had huge issues to address.  She could do little to assist currently on the bridge and here... well they needed lots more hands. 

When people had seen Ives return the emotion in the sickbay had actually normalized.  Ives was a charismatic leader and was well respected.  That the Captain was back onboard had many feeling better.  Ives had been there mere seconds before she had returned to the bridge.   This lull and feeling of relief had been short lived as the ship ascended and left the unstable planet's atmosphere.  

With the discovery of the fleet, the sickbay had devolved into only slightly controlled chaos.  People had panicked.  She had been calming as many people as she could, but she was feeling pushed to her limits as well.  Standing beside the medic at the entrance, she braced herself against the wall as the ship lurched as though it had hit something.  She turned back to assess the sickbay just as her combadge crackled to life.  Acknowledging Ives, she took three strides into the sickbay and snagged a PADD from the workstation.  

Looking up she noted the presence of the doctor and a harried nurse.  They were too busy, she'd either return or replace it later.  Spinning she strode from the sickbay as she rapidly delved into the PADD for the requested information.  

[ Deck 15 | Turbolift -> Fighter Assault Bay ] Attn: Kurohigi, Cathreen Dawinter, Valarie and everyone already stated to be present around the shuttle

Given the nature of this meeting with their new passengers in the Fighter Assault Bay, Jien had ordered Deputy zh'Wann to accompany them and to arrange for a reception on Deck 15. The Andorian had brought along a young, white-haired human security guard that Jien did not recognize, as well as the new Klingon Master-at-Arms. The three Security Officers now shared Captain Ives' and Commander Rez's turbolift. Ida was talking though her combadge with her security teams to head to Deck 15 ahead of them. "...and make sure to arm the Lone Wolves so that they may assist in setting up a perimeter around the shuttle. Zh'Wann out."

As they headed down towards the flight hangar in the turbolift, Captain Ives told Commander Rez about Sarresh Morali and the orders he had given Dr. Nicander. It was a shortened version of the ordeal to get the Ash'reem off the planet, and since they were short on time to delve into the subject at length, Jien ended the quick summary with the obvious. "We'll speak of this later when the time presents itself. Yet perhaps Kiya - your former host of the Rez symbiont - may have ideas, or may at least be able to stand in for Nicander and any of the other doctors as needed while Lieutenant Morali is undergoing treatment. Despite the import of Sarresh, we cannot neglect the needs of the other injured."

The turbolift doors opened for Ives, Rez and the three Security Officers then, and they all stepped out into the corridor leading to the Flight Hangar. At the next intersection, having arrived by another turbolift, Jien came face to face with Cam, and this new Captain's Yeoman of his fell in next to him and handed over a PADD with the information he had requested on Carrigan Trent. Ensign Henshaw's appearance looked as bad as many others in the group, himself included, that had been on the planet when the eruptions began. The short-haired woman was out of uniform too, but that small fact was secondary, and Jien was quite intimately aware with why she was not in uniform. Yet given the hour of the Calamity's attack, there were quite a lot of people who did not adhere to dress code regulations right then. This was not the time to be bothered by appearances.

"Thank you, Ensign," said Jien as the six of them eventually walked through the double doors that led to the large open flight deck - lined with Federation attack fighters on each side. It stretched a long way ahead of them, and yet they could still see the Runabout touch down upon the deck beyond a living wall made up of the backs of the security detail and the present fighter pilots. The shuttle had just landed, and as they walked the distance, Jien read the file that Cameron had given him on the person that they were about to meet. Carrigan Trent had been a familiar name, and Jien quickly learned why that was the case.

What first struck him was that Jien remembered reading an intriguing paper in Starfleet's Tactical Development Journal decades ago, and the file he read now revealed that Carrigan had been the author of that paper. Also, having been a part of the Dominion War himself, he'd also heard about the USS Harrier and its fate, with its commander having taken the defeat badly. What he had not know was that Starfleet Intelligence had recruited the man afterwards, and that meant that Jona Rez or Edena herself may have heard about the man before he was commissioned to Admiral Sankolov's staff. There were hints in the file too, as to how the man could have had the means to dispatch the fleet in the way he and his passenger had done. Having studied at the Intelligence Academy's Advanced Tactical and Strategic Support Division and specialised in electronic warfare, it seemed like the man could very well have done as he had claimed.

Jien handed over the PADD to Commander Rez after having finished reading what he needed to know from the file; not having the time to read it in depth but still picking out the gist of it all. They were dealing with a Starfleet Intelligence operative that possessed dangerous knowledge that may either aide them or... be a serious threat to them. "Deputy, send someone into the shuttle as soon as you can and make sure it is powered down . Look for items that may pose a threat to our systems and power them down as well."

"Yes, sir. Petty Officer Cardamone, you heard the Captain. Secure the shuttle after our passengers step out." The shuttle's doors were opening, and Jien came to stand in the middle of the gathered people on the deck with Commander Rez next to him.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Trent. We are coming out. I am holding a PADD and a bag, but I am unarmed."

Out stepped the first man that Jien recognised from the personnel file, and the identity appeared quite genuine based on the fact of that mechanical leg and the arm. He was holding a PADD and carried a duffel bag, as if he meant to check into some kind of Starbase hotel. Yet what happened next was something that did not merely come as a bolt out of the blue for Jien, but for many others in attendance as well.

For Jien knew the large Bajoran that emerged and raised his eyes once he stood next to the Intelligence Officer. It was a face that did not belong to the living. And while Jien did not say anything immediately, Deputy zh'Wann did - her rifle raised towards the imposing figure before the runabout.

"By Lor'Vela... It's... Commander Wenn," she breathed, eyes sharp in both alarm and scepticism, "I watched him die. I saw... I am positive he was sucked through the hull breach back then. This is impossible."

"What the hell..." said Evelyn Rawley, standing among the Lone Wolves with a hand phaser raised in a two-handed grip. "How can we know it's really him? He can't be. He must be the same as that Acreth woman."

"Hush, Ranger," said Nightmare quietly to her fellow wolf, eyes along the sights of her assault rifle.

Captain Ives raised a hand to bid for quietude, and then he stepped forward - his light steps echoing across the flight deck. He came to stand before both the passengers that had emerged from the Runabout, and he nodded towards the PADD. "I take it that is for me?" he asked in a quiet tone and held out a calloused hand. His countenance was unsmiling, not giving away anything about what he was thinking. "What is it?"

He did not address Commander Wenn just yet... if the large man was indeed whom he seemed to be.

The welcome awaiting Trent and his passenger was something he had expected. The Theurgy had effectively been at war with the whole of the Federation for some time and while they were chronically short on allies. And trust was one thing they had in even shorter supply. And it did not take a Starfleet Intelligence officer, or even a Starfleet officer at all, to know why.

However, it did not mean that Carrigan's calm mien was nothing more than a facade barely hiding his nerves. But it did not take long for the situation to change as Jien Ives, in his well-documented favoured male form, approached him and spoke, calmly and quietly yet firmly. There was no doubting the senior officer's strength and resolve, even if there was no real way to get into a shapeshifter's mind just by looking at their face. And when he extended his hand, the a Intelligence Officer slowly and deliberately reached with the PADD and handed it over, ever careful to keep his movements obvious and easily predictable. "One of a few gifts for you, Sir. This is the program I used to disable the fleet. Pseudo-Sankolov wanted a soft-kill weapon for you and Harbinger. When I came up with it, he had me program it to kill everything including life-support and the inertial dampeners except antimatter containment, structural integrity and to generate a quick impulse burst and emergency deceleration."

It was obvious what was desired: to disable the renegade starships' ability to fight or flee, while killing the crew by subjecting them to murderous G forces.

"Instead I built in a safeguard to protect Theurgy and Harbinger and a targeting algorithm for Task Force Archeron and left them dead in space. And depending how smart their crews are and how well they deal with the dark and a zero-G environment, I bought you anywhere from forty-eight to ninety-six hours head start.

Only then did Carrigan let go of the PADD and looked down to his duffel bag. "And in there I have a few persona possessions, and two data cubes with the most up to date Starfleet deployment orders, patrol routes, supply depot inventories, which ones are manned and which ones aren't, encryption codes for the next six months. I also have the communication logs for everyone I even suspected of being compromised in sensitive positions for the last two years. Basically, every scrap of strategic and tactical information I could get my hands on on short notice."

And only the did he look at the Bajoran revenant beside him. "And I also have your chief of security. Dozens have seen him dead, either floating in space or on a slab so he would be a very poor candidate for replacement."

There, he had done it, made contact with the Theurgy and given them what he knew he had to and then some. "Sir, I just deployed one Hell of a virus, disabled an entire fleet and killed... spaced Starfleet personnel to be here. I mean to join you, if you will have me."

Clear answers, perhaps through a precautionary rehearsal in advance of this moment. The Lieutenant Commander handed things over to Jien Ives on a silver platter, without going into needless detail about the weapon. The only thing that seemed in contrast with the explanation was the utter lack of one for how it was Wenn Cinn was standing next to them. The only thing Jien got from Trent in that regard was that Cinn would have been a poor choice for the enemy to replace, which suggested that Carrigan Trent knew just as little as they did how it came to be that the Bajoran had returned to them.

When indicated, Jien had glanced towards the duffle bag, but his face had otherwise been impassive - the dead black centres of his brown eyes completely still when meeting the gaze of the Lieutenant Commander. Seconds passed after the Intelligence Officer was done talking,  and then Jien looked down towards the PADD in his hands - lighting it up and starting to browse the contents. While he read, he said nothing, nor did the people behind him - weapons still raised and aims true. He was by all means no expert and not the best person to validate the credibility of the code and the data schematics that he looked at, but he knew enough to judge that it was most likely genuine. If nothing else, by judging the results that he had seen with his own eyes.

"This weapon of yours..." he said, raising his eyes, "....was a formidable one. Now that it has been used once, I am afraid Starfleet will make sure that something like this can never happen again. They will put a lot of resources into investigating what went wrong and prevent it from remaining a loophole for the Federation's enemies. Yet while it might have been a one-time opportunity, you used it well in the sense that it aided in safeguarding the truth... which you seem to have learned about on your own."

The truth about the conspiracy; the threat from inside the heart of Starfleet Command and who knew how many other institutions of power in the Federation. Then again, who knew if the Federation alone suffered from this hidden rot?

"You have sacrificed a lot to join us, Lieutenant Commander, if what you are saying is true. Your very life as a legitimate citizen and officer; committing veritable suicide in the eyes of the established society. Knowing what you know, about us and what we have been through, I am sure you understand how we may want to be on the safe side about believing you. Indeed, you ought to know already that we have to verify that you are who you claim to be, and validate the authenticity of the valuable intel you have brought. For as far as I am concerned, there are two main things that makes me unsure about trusting your word."

Stepping away, Jien handed the PADD in his hands to ThanIda zh'Wann while he spoke. "One thing is how implausible your story is. How unlikely it would be that you managed to do this and remain undetected. The second reason is the timing. How come you did not activate this weapon sooner, since our lives were in danger the moment that the fleet surrounded us and the Harbinger."

Listening to the reply, Jien then passed the word to his First Officer. She and her former host had been in Starfleet Intelligence for far longer than he had, so she might just pose the more pointed questions.

[Edena Rez - Leaving Theurgy bridge for Fighter Assault bay]

Edena fell in formation with Ives, keeping herself at his pace as the two made their way from the bridge to a new destination.  Along the way, the captain even went so far as to suggest that Kiya, the first of the rez Symbiont hosts, might be of some help in the current situation that saw medical staff overflowing with work.  "I am more then willing to allow her use of my body when I am not required for other duties, Captain, but we may need to take official matters into hand.  Kiya's medical license hasn't been in proper working working order since she died over two hundred years ago.  While her skill are preserved perfectly by the symbiont, we may need to draw up some declarations that allow her to serve as a civilian MD in sickbay, despite this lapse in license."  Perhaps it was strange to worry about legal matters of a civilian doctor with a suspended license, but Jien was a believer that rules helped to keep them on the right path.  Edena made the suggestion only so that, when the crew was acquitted of their crimes following the restoration of the proper governing body, that the rest of their files would be in order.

"I also feel i must be overly cautious, and tell you we should assume that anyone we meet is compromised until proven otherwise.  For that reason, coupled with the difficulties given by Ensign Acerth, that we take every precaution possible when dealing with his Lieutenant Commander Trent."

Dealing with him, however, also meant dealing with the 900 pound gorilla in the room.  A man who should have been dead was alive and standing beside the lieutenant commander.  Like Ives, Rez felt the need to ignore that, only because trying to make sense of it was throwing her off from dealing with the man who was the primary concern before they arrived in the fighter bay.  "Lieutenant Commander, while the information you provide could be very vital to our cause, we cannot simply take it at face value.  If you understand the enemy we face, surely you can also understand that you are an unknown variable, brought into a situation where we cannot honestly tell if you are a well meaning friend, or an attempt to implant a spy among our ranks."

Ironic that Edena was saying that, considering she was once the spy among the Theurgy crew, before her appointment to intelligence officer, followed by first officer.  She could already hear Illya, her past incarnation, snickering at the thought of the accusation.  Still, Jien knew that Edena only displayed that concern because of her former status.  Starfleet Intelligence were supposed to be paranoid.  It was that paranoia that helped her former superiors stay a step ahead of everyone else.



[Declan Vasser - Harbinger Bridge]

Just having the cloak up and operation was enough to make Declan breathe a sigh of relief.  Add to that the sudden halt of the attack force sent after them, and he felt that there must have been some higher force who thought they were owed some good luck after the chaos on the planet and in orbit around it.  "Lay in a course," Vasser said.  Following the Theurgy would be difficult while they were cloaked, but the two ships had already arranged a rendezvous point, somewhere they could meet and decloak when out of scanning range iof their pursuers.

"Status reports from all stations.  Anything that would prevent us from reaching our current destination that needs immediate addressing?"  He was looking for reports that everything was a-okay with the ship, but if not, that was simply a bridge he had to cross.  There was still the matter of an unauthorized weapon on the bridge to discuss in his ready room, as well as a report from T'rena about the Acerth escape that she had been part of ending.  It was all enough to make him miss games of cat and mouse with Romulan Warbiords or Klingon Birds of prey.  At least those threats weren't on his command deck.

Having studied every available file on Jien Ives and committing a great deal of this infirmation to memory was one thing. Dealing with that officer in person was another completely. The Captain's presence alone was enough to shake Carrigan Trent, to the point that the thin veneer of calm cracked and his expression started to shift between anxiety and the simple fact that he had, as the shapeshifter said  effectively committed suicide for what could be no reason.

However, the questions he could answer. "Captain, I am an openly serving Intelligence officer. I didn't specialize in undercover or covert operations. What I do is in my uniform, with my own identity and largely above-board. Pseudo-Sankolov ordered me to build this weapon for him, so I did it in plain sight, mostly compiling it on a standalone terminal in my quarters since I didn't have a workspace on the Archeron. I called it a safety issue since I didn't want to risk my virus activating prematurely and they bought it. Other than having to give some progress reports and running the odd simulation, I had no oversight on that project."

There went one doubt. The other he could answer to as well. "As for timing Sir, I deployed it from my quarters within a minute of dropping out of warp. I had to wait until I was close enough to the Theurgy to have a real chance at escaping, but I failed to foresee how long it would take for it to work. Long story short, I got tripped up in the Archeron's network architecture and the only way I could sort that out was to use my intelligence override to get the virus into the main ODN grid. Then it had to propagate and attach itself in every target system. And that is when it will do what I programmed it to do with each system and corrupt the firmware in the on-board processors."

Only then did Trent take a deep breath. "Sir, I might be very good at what I do, but I am not a computer systems engineer. If I had known my console would have been relegated to a secondary network with no access to primary systems, I would have used my override first instead of trying to figure out where I might have made a coding error."

Having answered the seniormost officer in the room, Trent turned his attention to Edena Rez. So, she was no openly working in the Theurgy, and had been promoted. So, his suspicions had been right that she had been trying to thrown Starfleet Intelligence for a loop. And if it hadn't been the few irregularities he found when analyzing those reports, then suppressed, the Theurgy's run would have been much shorter.

At her own words, he nodded. "Of course Ma'am. I have seen this enemy send good officers to their deaths. They are ruthless and smart. I understand your doubts. However, I am certain you have access to my service record. You are well-aware of my expertise. If I had bought the propaganda or had been compromised, would I be here, on this deck, risking mission failure by being examined by two highly-respected Intelligence-trained officers, or would I have piggybacked my virus on a sensor burst mimicking a return echo from your own active scans and killed everyone on board without anyone having the slightest idea of what hit you?"

There was little Trent could say. However, he knew he was dealing with highly pragmatic people. With some luck, his arguments would carry the weight he needed them to.

(https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-frWhzJh5gyg/T_dYzZnxhrI/AAAAAAAABLE/hm8nllQLY4w/s326/Skye_15.png)Skye Carver - Pilot 02 - Kestrel

Skye had been the last one to dock before Miles, refusing as his wingman to leave his side until the last moment.  She was barely out of the way when her CO made his screeching entrance and exited her ship when all seemed safe ... for now.  Ready 1 was called and she wasted no time in setting up Kestrel for another go at a moment's notice.  Then she exited her warbird and quietly watched the others.

Ranger was doing pretty much what she figured, spewing and pacing while emanating heat like the planet they'd just left.  Nightmare made a quick jaunt over to Maverick, 'thanking' him for his assistance.  Everyone felt like they weren't where they belonged but the outbursts only made Skye set her jaw.  Had they no faith in their captain?  Thankfully Miles said what she was thinking, and in a much more diplomatic way.

There was a moment of something akin to peace when her eyes met those of Ravon.  He was okay and there was relief in that but he was walking along with Ranger and that moment evaporated.  Turning away she started to inspect the outside of Kestrel and she murmured to it as if it were a child, promising that as soon as possible she'd get her cleaned up and looking beautiful again.

Her inspection was cut short when Miles called for backup to the security personnel who were filing in quickly and she took one of the rifles offered before setting up to the side with full view of the people who were apparently defecting.  One stepped out and had enough metal replacements to make her immediately think of the Borg, making her finger over the trigger twitch.

The next stepped out and seemed to cause a bit of issue for some.  She trained her eye on that one, wondering if she should amp up the level.  He was quite solid and no doubt could tear through a group of people before he went down.  As a few commented on him and said his name, the name and face finally clicked in her mind and her eyes widened slightly.

She had never met him, only heard his name a few times and saw his image on the list of those lost, but hearing Ranger spit out the guy had to be like the Harbinger prisoner raised her hackles; both for the possibility he could be and that Ranger was so quick to assume the worst.  Skye herself had been accused by Ida and that wound was still quite fresh.

For now there wasn't much she could do so simply remained alert with her weapon trained on the big guy who somehow defied death.  A tiny voice inside of her railed at that, wondering why he could come back but not Scosche.  Stop right there, Skye.  You've already gotten in enough trouble for being upset about his death.  Focus on the job.

Deck 15 | Turbolift - Fighter Assault Bay

Their trip to the bridge had been short lived as they where quickly reassigned to the Fighter Assault Bay. The orders where simple as they where to accompany key personal to the Fighter Bay and help address the issue of some unknown who came seemingly baring gifts. Something that didn't set well with her, still she wasn't the captain and such decisions were not hers to make. She had her own choices, her own problems to focus on. She was more then happy to leave the decisions as to whom to trust to the ones who had earned the rank. On the trip down she leaned her back against the wall of the turbo life raising her injured leg slightly. Even it if was temporary it did feel good. The fact that it was still hurting was a good sign as her body had not reverted back to the point where such injuries would be easily healed. Her grip on her weapon tightened as she readied for who ever the unknowns where and what ever problems they would be presenting. She listened quietly to the conversation about the problem in med-bay with Sarresh Morali and the horrific orders that had been given. She felt for the man to be left in such a way and not being allowed to die. She couldn't help but shutter at the thought of being patched together. She opened her mouth to speak. To tell that she wasn't fully human and she could help. Tell them everything. Only one though caused her mouth to close. Her people. Above all else she had to protect them. But from the way they where talking and what she had heard from the crew this person would be just as important to their survival as she was to them. After all what good would it be for them to make contact with a corrupted Starfleet?

As soon as the name Acerth founds its way into the air Dyan couldn't help but let out a small growl of contempt. When the turbolift doors opened it was almost a relief though her mind still lulled over the fate of the poor man they seemed to want to stitch back together. Her kind in their true form could heal. From almost any injury. This healing ability could be harvested at great cost to the host. Still if this Sarresh was as important as they seemed to think and it would mean a better chance for their people she would let them milk every last drop she had. She also knew it would prove far more effective then anything they where probably planning. After all nothing beat being able to flood the body with blank cells that could replace damaged or destroyed ones. The same ability that saved her life and was now slowly turning her body back to what it should be. Not this human form she had to take.

Her thoughts kept her mind busy on the walk and she had to push everything out as they walked through the double doors that lead to the large open flight deck. The large open space was welcome as she finally let out a small breath almost mentally slapping herself telling her to focus. There would be time to figure everything out once this mission was over. She watched silently as the Runabout touched down her rifle raising half way. She was ready to strike. Ready to attack. "Aye aye, Ma'am," Dyan said as her eyes remained on the Runabout and her hands gripping her weapon tightly. As much as she fought it her weapon raised a little more hearing they where coming out with something in their hand.

She watched silently as they stepped out her eyes quickly scanning over the PADD and bag. The PADD didn't seem a threat to her but the bag was something else. Someone could hide any number of things in a bag. She was just about to move to the shuttle when she noticed zh'Wann rifle raising her quickly following suit. All that need be spoke was the Bajoran could be like Acreth and he had Dyans fully attention. Her rifle was aimed squarely at his head ready to take it off should he seem to prove a threat. She had lost her whole team and she would be damned if she would see it happen again. The captains footsteps might have been light across the flight deck but to her they where loud, heavy, echoing things. Her head tilted slightly watching the captain closely and the Bajoran she saw as a threat. She remained still for a long while simply watching before her weapon lowered and she slowly stepped back making her way around the group trying to say out of anyone's line of fire.

She gave as much distance as she could around the three men slipping around before stepping into the shuttle. Her weapon raised as she slowly ventured in making sure to check every corner, every place anyone could hide something that would hurt those that she protected. As she searched through the Runabout she noticed there didn't seem to be anything out of place aside from a few out of place phasers. Moving to the cock pit she worked powering down the system before turning to report back that the Runabout was secured.

[Natalie Stark | Deck 01 - Bridge | USS Theurgy]

The ship came out from the 'smoke screen' to a site that left Natalie, and the rest of the bridge crew, for that matter, speechless. Twenty-four ships of the line, a mighty task force of Starfleet's finest - adrift in space. The lights were shutting down all across the 'enemy' fleet, and Lt. Cmdr. Stark was having a damn hard time believing what she was seeing. She spared a glance at the equally bewildered Winterbourne next to her, whom was still trying to keep the ship on course. They shared a very confused look, before snapping their eyes back to their consoles.

What was all the more shocking was the hail that came from what appeared to be the only other vessel under its own power out in the void. The kind of message that could only be too good to be true. But with the captains orders, what else could Natalie do? As the ship came to a halt, the Ops Chief punched in the commands, routing the communications channel from the runabout to the main view screen, and couldn't resist looking up herself.

Not that she got much time to analyze what she saw. Her dark eyes drank it all in, but at the same time, given the angle of the runabouts onboard cameras, there wasn't all that much to see. Nor was there much time. Her captain was short, sweet, and to the point, and before she knew it, the orders were in and the channel was cut. Without being ordered she sent docking instructions to the fighter bay, and passed on a general alert. The captain was issuing orders and the crew was responding, but Natalie almost missed the last bit.

"...Commander Stark, you have the Bridge." Her eyes went wide, nearly bugging out for a moment and her mouth popped open into a rather large 'o' shape. Thankfully, only Winterbourne was in a position to see her face, and his only response was a soft chuckle. Out of every thing that had happened that day, this, this was what knocked Natalie for a loop. I have the bridge....I have the bridge! Holy shit! "Aye..aye, sir."

Her relief came around as soon as she stood up. All across the bridge, the captains orders were being followed. She turned, her skin having paled, as she passed the Ensign that took over her previous station. Crrraaap she thought as she crossed the bridge - Captain Ives and Cmdr. Rez were already halfway to the turbolift. She stood, rubbing her sweaty palms and staring down at the Center Seat. She had to tell herself that Ives would not have ordered her take over command unless he thought she could handle it, but still. She'd never been put in command of anything.

"I have the bridge," she said as the turbolift doors closed. Swallowing, she turned and eased herself into the chair. It was...comfortable. She was surprised. Given how ramrod straight she'd seen the Captain, in both forms, sit in that chair, she had assumed that it wasn't actually a good fit. But damn if it wasn't a very, very comfortable chair. Must be the responsibility she thought as she sank back, bringing up  one of the small consoles on the armrest, and looking at the read out. Damage control teams were going to be working overtime she thought softly.

Alloud, however, she addressed the bridge. "Helm, maintain course. Lt. Fedd...I know you already have a lot on your plate," She swallowed, the continued, "but I want someone keeping an eye on those ships out there. The second they start to power up, I want to know. This is all...too good to be true." She managed more words then she'd expected, truthfully. And her voice hadn't cracked. Would the miracles ever cease? She wondered silently, tugging at the golden collar around her neck. It suddenly felt like a noose, and she eased the zipper down, telling her self the heat she felt was likely from her nerves, and not some life support malfunction.

At ease, Commander. You're just on a slow, routine cruise....away from a fleet of ships that could power up at any moment and vaporize you...and some nightmare vessel from the future sent to eradicate you. Piece of cake, right?

[ USS Harbinger | Main Bridge | Deck 01 ]

Commander T'Rena, standing by the tactical station, received word from the Theurgy on what might have befallen Task Force Archeron - learning that they would linger a while to pick up two people on a shuttle. The reason as to why they were suddenly out of danger was secondary to that they were, and had she been a woman of less control of her own feelings, she would have sighed in relief. Instead, she dispassionately started working on a damage report and made an inventory on their tactical systems.

"Status reports from all stations.  Anything that would prevent us from reaching our current destination that needs immediate addressing?"

T'Rena paused in what she was doing. The relief that she had suppressed, she found, did not originate in the preservation of her own life - something which she had suspected. No, it had a distinct logical reason behind it, and after what had happened on the Bridge - where Sonja Acreth had meant to kill them all - T'Rena's analysis of the situation at hand called for immediate action. Captain Vasser could no longer remain ignorant of the potential they all possessed through him.

"Yes, Captain," she said and stepped away from her station nodding for her replacement to stand in, "I have important matters to discuss with you. I would suggest we use my Ready Room instead since yours are now unsuitable for confidentiality."

She was not presumptuous in how she walked there ahead of Captain Vasser, for the urgency of the matters at hand made it suitable that she went there ahead of him, so that when she had passed through the sliding doors, she could open the wall panel next to the entrance and remove five crystal clear chips. Thus, she effectively killed all kinds of communication channels to and from the room. No one would be able to eavesdrop on what they needed to discuss. She put them on her desk and waited next to it for Vasser to join her.

The cloaking device had set down the light-levels across the ship, the dim lighting making the shadows of the Ready Room darker. If she would have cared for such details, T'Rena would have thought it fitting. She just hoped she could make Vasser see things her way. Somehow, she had a feeling he might...

At Stark's order, Fedd nodded and turned the Theurgy's full complement of functioning tactical sensors on the now-disabled fleet. "Aye aye, commander." He reached out tentatively with his mind, and withdrew quickly at the nebulous cloud of confusion now permeating local space. Inwardly he chastised himself for possibly endangering the crew; it was entirely possible the fleet had a Betazoid among their numbers, and here he was broadcasting his presence. His imzadi had not taught him the finer points of long-range thought defence, being Vulcan; that was more his brother's forte.

As his extrasensory apparatus retracted (Fedd always pictured it as a xycton, a Betazoid cephalopod possessed of multiple long tentacles), he picked up a buzz of thoughts from those on the bridge, Natalie in particular. ...Slow, routine cruise....away fr........f ships that could power up at.......moment and vaporize you..............tmare vessel from the future sent to eradicate you. Piece of cake, right?

Great. Now he wanted cake.

Turning away from his console momentarily, Fedd caught Stark's eye over his shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. When he smiled, it was like a statue smiling. The expression seemed carved into his face like it had always been there and always would be, yet still alive with warmth. He was still exhausted from projecting into the captain's mind, but he hoped his face would be enough to let her know he was there for her.

This reminded Sjaandin that there was someone else for whom he should feel concern, the reason he was standing at this station in the first place. Keeping one eye on the readouts, he slapped his combadge, "Fedd to sickbay. Can I get an update on Mr. Cooper's condition?"

[Edena Rez - Fighter Assault Bay]

"I would surmise that an intelligence officer might prefer to infiltrate the ranks of a ship in order to assess the new technology found on this ship, including some which has been developed since we became fugitives.  For that reason alone, of of your ranks might seek to acquire all we know before destroying us in some equally clever way, especially if you consider your own life to be expendable."

This was exactly why Edena hated conversations between Intelligence officers.  They often spent so much time making moves and counter-moves that, frankly, it was exhausting to her.  "To simply cut to the chase, we will have to treat you as a possible threat, and keep you under the same level of surveillance we would keep any known compromised crewman until such a time we are able to confirm with certainty that you are not under some alien influence."  The study of Ensign Acerth was hoping to find a means of identifying, though much of that was cut short by her attempt on Doctor Lucan

"That said, you should not take such measures as a personal insult, Lieutenant Commander, but simply a precaution in paranoid times.  I feel that, one with a service record in Starfleet intelligence, you would do the same in our position if you were in command of this vessel."



[Declan Vasser - Harbinger XO Ready Room]

At the request of his first officer, he followed her to her ready room.  "Officer S'Iti, you have the bridge," Declan said, leaving the helmswoman in command while he was not present.  Once inside the XO Ready Room, his first order to business was to commandeer the room.  "In light of my ready room's state, I would have to requisition this ready room for myself.  I'll be needing it for my own work and to meet with members of the crew."  Though T'rena had business of her own, it had to be secondary to the commanding officer, leaving her Ready room to herself only when the Captain did not require it.

It was only when he finished saying that when he finally noticed the crystals piled on her desk.  "I take it this means our next conversation is very deep off the record?" he asked, knowing that the crystals would only be removed if she felt that what she had to say next was for his ears only, and not even the risk of eavesdropping could be allowed.

[ USS Harbinger | Executive Officer Ready Room | Deck 01 ]

"Of course, sir," said T'Rena without blinking to her Captain's request to use her Ready Room. It held no consequence for her. It was the Captain's right to requisition any space on the ship that he liked. She stepped away from the desk, and circled around - letting Vasser take her place by the desk instead. Rather than the use of her office, her thoughts were upon what she needed to say at long last. Yet since she had come to her understanding, T'Rena had been given more than sufficient time on Theta Eridani IV to structure her counsel to Captain Vasser, and she lay out her argument with cold precision - not yet touching upon what she knew about her commanding officer.

"You are already familiar with the great challenge of the opposition that we face. The enemy that we seek to reach, confront and vanquish."

She had decided on using an eight-step methodology to organise her argument. She knew that she - as a Vulcan - had little to offer in terms of pathos, which was the crude emotional commitment in human oral persuasion. What they called ethos and logos, however, she believed she had enough to compensate for it. She folded her hands behind her back and raised her chin, her even stare filled with uncompromising conviction. She had been an Acolyte-from-Birth at the Temple of Kolinahr, stayed true to her ancient beliefs, never erring, and right then, as she spoke to her commander, she spoke as the Master Acolyte that she had once been.

"How can a single ship, even two, go against this invisible enemy that we face? An enemy that in Ensign Acreth now have been proved to be more than just deceivers. They are not just mere conspirators. Clandestine usurpers of political power. No. They are a force to be reckoned with in direct combat." T'Rena slowly walked over to a side-table as she spoke, laying one hand upon it as she looked out upon the space of the Acamar System. They were still more than a hundred light-years away from the Sol System, and the voyage ahead statistically impossible to make. Starfleet, the extended arm of their adversary, made for formidable opposition.

"This, added with the evidence that they can obtain and deploy weapons from the future, they may even have ties to an unknown faction in the Temporal Cold War of the 29th century. A measure of the enemy's resolve can be exemplified in the Niga report that we read, where the Theurgy allegedly were exposed to a biological weapon that would have reduced the majority of the Galaxy to utter debauchery - subjecting Federation, Unions and Empires to a gradual, depraved extinction. Worlds laid to ruin and filled with nothing but ever mating primates - mad with nothing but uncouth desire. In the light of this, logic dictates that the enemy seek not control, but destruction. That they hold political power now... is but an intermediate step."

T'Rena paused there, and opened the side-table with delicate, slow motions. She took out a meditation lamp, and set it down with her fingertips. "Logic dictates further... that it is not just Starfleet Command that oppose you and Captain Ives. It would stand to reason that the enemy has impersonators in other factions. Given recent reports before we were alienated by Starfleet, I am convinced that even the V'Shar of Vulcan - our intelligence and security agency - has been compromised. That would suggest that the Tal Shiar is too, because of the Romulan and Vulcan genetic resemblance."

With small motions, she lit the meditation lamp, letting it burn with a low intensity. The small source of light flickered over her hands and her scarred features. She turned to face Captain Vasser again, and the candlelight teased across her uniform with the movement. "Consider, my Captain, the incident where Ensign Acreth broke free while we were visiting her. If the Vulcans of the V'Shar can be joined by these parasites, which is what the Theurgy's Chief Medical Officer suggested about their biological nature, then Romulans are also vulnerable. Until proven otherwise, I think it is reasonable to assume that we cannot find allies in the Klingon Empire either. Neither can we go to Andoria. Nor to Cardassia. It is likely we are even more alone than we first thought when we sought to make an alliance with the USS Theurgy. Given present parameters, we still cannot succeed. We cannot conquer this enemy and reclaim our worlds. It is no longer an option, but rather what you human's would call a fool's errand. The odds of succeeding in our present course of action is less than one percent, even less depending on how many factions are under enemy control."

The first step was complete. She had presented the problem. She stepped back towards the desk and faced Vasser at arm's length. Then, she moved on to the next step. "I trust you know how thorough my analysis ought to be. I have served you for many years now, both as Chief of Security and your First Officer. I could present you with all the alternatives that you have. Yet I have evaluated them all, and selected the best choice for success based on all present facts of our tactical situation. Would you like me to recite all these alternatives, Captain, or should I tell you what my advice is right away?"

[Declan Vasser - Harbinger XO Ready Room]

It was a painful possibility that Declan hadn't wanted to accept, but T'Rena was right to bring it up.  There might not have been any allies left out there who could have been helpful to them, not a race in the Alpha Quadrant that might not have been infiltrated.  It meant that, until such a time that they were able to identify the compromised with some sort of scan, everyone had to be kept at arm's reach, a weapon in hand to protect themselves against someone who might turn on them as soon as their guard went down.

"I need to hold on to some faith that Ensign Acerth might still prove useful to us in helping identify others of her kind," he said to T'Rena, knowing that faith was illogical, something that had no place in a conversation with a Vulcan.  As she spoke in her realist manner, holding back no words and pulling no punches, he had to accept her facts.  Her analysis came with options, advise that she could provide, though she had already singled out the one that she thought best.

"You are correct that you have been by my side for a long time, Commander, as my Security Chief and my First officer.  With the rapport we've established after all this time, I think you should know well enough what to do."  If she was going to suggest something he would strongly disagree with, then she had best open with her alternatives, and make him understand why those would not work.  She had to leave no other option but the one he would hate to accept.  She'd done it so many times in the past that he even had a name for the strategy.  The T'Rena Quagmire; defeat all other alternatives with cold, dispassionate logic, until only the least favorable option is left viable.

[USS Theurgy | Deck 15 Fighter Assault Bay]

Commander Rez' words were ringing in Carrigan's ears. Granted, part of him could understand these suspicions. After all, the Theurgy and her consort were chronically short on friends yet had an overabundance of enemies. And when these enemies were led by entities that could subvert Starfleet's senior leadership, then they could effectively be anyone.

However, to Trent, the Trill's words had a strange ring, particularly coming from someone who, until recently, had been a plant on this very ship, very likely even put in this position by one of the compromised senior members of Starfleet Intelligence. However, the hypocritical nature of the accusations were not voiced by the human. And while there were serious holes in her arguments, these too he let lie.

Carrigan Trent was not in a position of strength and he knew it. In fact, he was half-expecting to be killed right then and there. "Ma'am, I'm an analyst with some dirty tricks up his sleeve. The only training I have in covert ops is the introduction given during the basic intelligence officer training, and I barely passed that. In fact, I'd bet someone fudged my evaluation results because they were more interested in my other skills. And let's face it, within Intelligence, actual spies are a dime a dozen. Analysts maybe a nickel dozen. People with my skills? I think I am a rather unique resource. Not something our enemy would risk throwing away like this.  Not when the numbers of crews and ships figuring out something is wrong will only go up. And seeing how I couldn't find any hard evidence of something different with Sankolov or anyone else, all I have to support I am who I claim I am are my actions so far and the data I am bringing here."

"Commander, I did everything in my power to avoid harming anyone on these twenty-four ships, but still good people died when I deployed my weapon. I know some casualties were going to happen, but still, I killed innocent people today who whose only crime was following orders in good faith. They never suspected anything was wrong beyond two starships' mutiny, until they were sucked out into space."

This was when the last shreds of Trent's composure broke. No more calm, professional face but instead that of a man who knows full well he has done something terrible despite its necessity and unavoidable nature. "Starfleet personnel died so I could be here, to give you all the information I had and to be able to do something against our enemy. Do what you need to do. But please, don't make these men and women's death be in vain."

[ USS Harbinger | Executive Officer Ready Room | Deck 01 ]

T'Rena made no comment about her Captain's anticipation to derive advantages over the enemy with the continued examinations of the individual that once had been Ensign Sonja Acreth. The strategy she would suggest did not negate these prospects, but T'Rena suspected that Vasser meant this in wanton hope that they had a chance to use that knowledge in an ill-timed crusade. She was, however, confident she would make him see reason. It was fortunate that she could speak with him before Captain Ives and he did something that would take them even further down the the spiral that would lead to their pointless demise.

"I do, sir," she said in reply, and she raised her hands to unzip her uniform jacket.

While she did so, she continued speaking as if she was doing nothing out of the ordinary - her words even and precise. "With the established nature of our tactical situation, it is clear that we cannot go against the whole might of the Federation, or any other factions in the known Galaxy. Even if we would, the enemy can counter-act us by defending their interests through the destruction of our current time-line - using means like the Calamity to attack us through their ability to exploit the timestream. The Harbinger is even more inferior to the task than the Theurgy is, which is something that I have observed you have already come to terms with, Captain."

Remaining where she stood, her face still impassive, T'Rena let the jacket fall to the floor behind her. "You have already transferred the major part of our crew to a superior starship, and it stands to reason that the Harbinger will not survive for long. Which would lead to the inevitable situation where you and Captain Ives would be two Commanding Officers upon one starship. This, provided that you survive. Something that is quite crucial."

It was a mere hint to what she knew. She unzipped her undershirt as well whilst her words continued. "So, a single ship going against the whole of Starfleet, and our word of truth tainted by the accusations of our alleged crimes. The odds that a sufficient number of people in the right positions to aid us would believe our claim, regardless of what proof we say we have, is also below one percent. Even less with each new person of influence that is joined by the enemy. At best, the truth would survive as a mere rumour after our inevitable destruction somewhere along the voyage back to the Sol System. Rumours that can be denied on all political levels that the enemy have reached. Rumours would die out, leaving but a mere footnote in the annals of history... if there would be any such notice at all before the enemy brought ruin to all known galactic civilizations like they would do with the Niga virus."

The undershirt joined the jacket upon the floor, and the flickering candlelight caressed T'Rena's bared skin. As per her preference, she wore no undergarments. She continued in order to prevent argument against her actions - her voice like a living thing in the Ready Room. "In short, we are already too late, Captain. If we mean to prevail, we must completely change our prospects, to realise that this war is already lost. Even if invasive examinations upon Ensign Acreth may yield a method to scan for their kind, our attempts to spread the word will be quenched before we succeed. We need too many influential people to perform such scans across the whole Galaxy, and I need not tell you how likely it would be that the very authorities that can perform these kind of scans on global scales are the very same authorities already compromised. Yes, this war is lost, regardless which path or which tactic we use in opposing the enemy now. The sooner you come to terms with this, Captain, the greater the hope is for the Galaxy to be restored in a second war... fought at a more opportune time."

She had stepped out of her shoes, and opened her uniform trousers - her small thicket of hair caught by the firelight in that opening. Still, she remained where she stood. "The second war would be on your terms, Captain, when we are more wise. When we know the enemy. When we have travelled far away from this part of space that has already been conquered, and we have settled somewhere that the enemy has no interest to pursue us to. If there is no such space, we will remain on our ships. Yet space is infinite, and the possibilities endless. If we want to reclaim our worlds, we will, because of you. For in your blood, I know.... that you have the power to do so."

She knew, and she had known for some time, and she had now finally told him. T'Rena let her uniform trousers fall, and she took a step closer to her Captain, her face still impassive - her words still spoken as utter truth. Logic be her companion, this was the only recourse for them all. "Any wars you wish to wage from that point on, when we have established the foundation of your salvation... would be fought by your followers," she said, her large eyes unblinking as she stared into the uniquely gifted man's eyes. Almost casually, she raised a hand to run her fingertips down her flat abdomen, trailing down to the entrance of her womb. "It would be fought by your children. For consider, my Captain, how all children by all women that follow us into the unknown could be born with your abilities. Only then... could we eventually fight back in earnest with any hope for victory, returning to the ruins that will remain of this part of space."

Slowly, she raised her arms to lay her hands behind Captain Vasser's neck, and she let the hint of a smile touch upon her lips. "Personally, I would see it as a privilege to bear your first child in the name of your future empire."

Because he needed someone to guide him every step of the way. She learned long ago to use her body to her benefit. Now, she would help everyone.


[ USS Theurgy |  Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ]

The silence lingered after the Lieutenant Commander pleaded for understanding. For recognition of the cost of what he had done. It was the cost of duty which Captain Ives and everyone present were all familiar with since the enemy had been exposed - persecuted as they had been for two months and driven into the far end of the borderlands. In this regard, they were already the same - murderers of the innocent. Because they had no choice. Because the nature of the threat forced their hand.

Jien had remained silent while Edena explained the situation from their perspective. The man acted as anyone might when staring down the muzzles of a veritable firing squad; ending up tense and ill at ease. Edena was correct in that they had to consider these new passengers a threat, and even if she was quite civil about it compared to the line of questioning that Jona Rez might have used, the situation was not in favour for this Carrigan Trent to accept the situation without concerned argumentation. Perhaps he feared that the aide he wanted to lend them on their mission would be neglected because of their paranoia... or he feared that the scans he would be subjected to would show something.

Yet... having once been a Counsellor and a Diplomatic Officer - which admittedly felt like hundreds of years ago - Jien was inclined to believe the man's word when he explained how he had managed to create the virus that crippled Task Force Archeron, as well as to why there had been a delay in doing so. Therefore, Jien Ives eventually broke the silence to repeat what his First Officer had said - to try and pierce the man's apprehension.

"I think there is iron in your claim, Lieutenant Commander. If nothing else, based on what you did and could have done instead," he said quietly, though his words carried nonetheless, "Still, we cannot take any chances. The Harbinger was infiltrated with one of their kind, and we have her in custody in our Brig." Jien paused and turned his head to include the other man before the shuttle - this revenant from the past.

"The both of you will also be confined into holding cells in the Brig. We will go through the information that you have brought us, and you will undergo medical examinations. Deputy zh'Wann will lead the interrogations, and depending on the collective findings, I will order your release. I can merely apologise for what the circumstances forces us to do... How we must treat even our saviours this way."

Then, not allowing time for argument, Jien turned his oaken eyes fully upon Wenn Cinn. Slowly, he walked over to this Bajoran man that he used to know. He had already told them both what awaited them after coming aboard their ship, and in truth, Jien was far less concerned with the Lieutenant Commander and his story than he was with the Bajoran that stood at his side. After everything that had happened that morning, with Theta Eridani and the shut-down of Sankolov's entire fleet, the fact that a dead man now stood upon their deck once more remained - arguably - the most improbable.

"Prove to me your fortitude, Cinn," said Jien as he looked into those familiar eyes, not flinching for a second from the imposing physical figure that the man held, "and tell me how it is that you stand among us living again."

---

OOC: I edited the ending of my last post with Jien Ives to leave room for the dialogue between Rez and Trent, and now moved the bit of how Jien turned to speak with Wenn Cinn here instead.

Sickbay | USS Theurgy

Hayden O'Connor was proud to be known as a bleeding heart.  When other people would refer to her as such - sometimes good-naturedly, but more often than not with barely concealed pity and disapproval - Hayden would smile sweetly and say thank you.  Not only did she enjoy watching people's faces fall as they realized their insults had missed their mark, but she genuinely saw the value of not just caring about other people, but having the ability to imagine what another being might be feeling.  Medical school, charitably speaking, is meant to refine this personality trait.  More accurately, in Hayden's opinion, was that medical school was designed to crush this trait until only the tiniest spark remained.  Too much empathy could cloud a doctor's judgement.  A doctor had to be able to make accurate and efficient decisions that had less to do with what felt good, and more to do with what science demanded.

In fact, even in the more enlightened age of the Federation, Hayden imagined she had received more lectures about how to keep emotion out of patient care than how to use it to promote better health for her patients.  Bedside manner, in Hayden's eyes, was often valued only in the sense that it led to more honesty and in turn, fewer mistakes by the physician.  Crying was forgiven, if only because it was an opportunity for a more senior physician to explain how this short-term pain was going to make one a more determined physician.  Emotion, empathy, social connection - these were never labelled as outrightly negative factors for the enlightened Federation doctor - but rather, they were treated as things to be guarded against, or rationed.

Even during her busy trauma rotations, which brought to mind the moans, screams and general cacaphony that she was also experiencing now aboard the Theurgy in the midst of battle, Hayden had never been able to stop feeling things.  So she sought additional training in mental health, training that still sought to refine the bleeding heart nature of people like her, but at least sought to use that nature to fuller advantage. 

Now, aboard the Theurgy, she was a woman of both worlds, but she felt completely numb.

Cir'Cie's words still ringing in her ears, she realized intellectually, all her efforts to embrace her bleeding heart nature were for nought. 

Bleeding hearts didn't let people die, and even if she could imagine a universe in which they might, she couldn't fathom a universe in which they could still afford to feel as intensely again. 

Cir'Cie believed Hayden had saved the two of them out of some twisted sense of logical arrogance.

Can a bleeding heart die, and  if so, is the pain of such a death diminished no one believed it existed to begin with?

Shouting pulled Hayden from her reverie, from her going through the motions effort.

Watching the exchange between Nicander and Ives, she learned Amikris was dead and the last of her kind was as good as dead.  Her knees threatened to buckle and then...

And then Jien demanded a solution.  S/he demanded action.  Not emotion.

Maybe medical school had gotten it right.

"Not exactly the welcome I thought I'd be getting," Cinn smirked, glancing around at all the weapons aimed at him and deciding it would be a better option to keep the hands raised for now.  Jien's phrase was familiar, something he had heard him use before but never thought it would have been used on him.

In truth he hadn't expected to return at all and this welcome was actually more promising than he'd feared.  Now his feet were back on the deck of the ship he had called home, before everything had gone wrong, he felt relieved.  Cinn truly believed in what they were doing and would back up his CO to the end... and beyond it seemed.

"It's not as easy as me saying I am who I say I am.  Not anymore," he began, acknowledging the difficulty of the situation.  His eyes scanned the room again and caught sight of Ida, the one who had been with him when he had been pulled out to his death, "Lieutenant zh'Wann was there and saw me pulled into space.  I heard her shouting.  Luckily for me it turns out that my faith in the Prophets, despite your ribbing, had its advantages."

"Some new faces.  You been picking up strays, Jien?  Looks like I'm not the only one to have returned from the dead either, eh flyboy?"  His eyes had picked out the once-presumed-dead pilot who seemed to also be alive and well. 

His eyes continued around the room, "Where is Thenaljpar?  Thought this would be the kind of party he would be invited to at least although I'd guess you left Nerina on the bridge with all this chaos?  Having been in the middle of it I can vouch for him by the way."  With the last statement he nodded in the direction of Trent.

His eyes briefly held over the woman in command red and narrowed.  This one he had met before he'd been spaced.  This one had been a spy and a liar.  Why was she out of the brig?  Not only that but how in the name of the Prophets had she managed to get herself into a command position?  How bad were things that such a woman could be released and promoted into such a position of responsibility?  He bit his tongue, now wasn't the time to go on the offensive.  That could come later, when this stand-off had been resolved and they were proven to be who they said they were.

Having sized up the room in such an automatic way that he hadn't even realised he was doing it the former-CSec's eyes returned to the Captain, his tone lowering and going from the jovial to the serious, "Captain, I am Wenn Cinn.  The Prophets brought me back for a reason they didn't reveal, just that they weren't happy that I'd died when I did.  I understand the need to send us to the brig, you know you'll get no fight from me."  He paused before his eyes flicked back to the spy, "The sooner this is resolved the better."

[Thomas Ravon | Fighter assault bay]

As they walked further the flickering lights indicated that their cloak had been dropped for some reason. Thomas looked up and wondered why, they wouldn't be out of fighting range yet he presumed and his suspicion got confirmed as a security detail started to make way through the fighter bay. They got the advise to arm up and after grabbing an assault rifle, Thomas made his way to where the rest of his squad and security detail formed up. Completely unaware what was going on he could see the shuttle approach slowly and dock.

Without really realising he had positioned himself next to Carver as he raised his rifle, lining up his shot at the shuttle doors as they opened up. As the half bionic man stepped forth, Thomas diverted his aim to him now and placed his finger on the trigger. 'Don't be the happy triggerman...' A voice echoed through his mind and he kept his focus up while the second man appeared into the lights of the bay. What happened next was just jaw dropping. How could Wenn still be alive? How the hell did one man manage to take out an entire fleet. Thomas kept his weapon raised, yet he couldn't believe what the top brass was discussing with these guys.

[Simon Tovarek | USS Theurgy Bridge]

When Jien Ives gave the order to Simon to decloak he complied immediately. His eyes glaring that the floating carcasses of ships, his mind racing to give possibilities to what had happened. Did his mix of radiation manage to knock out their systems? No else Theurgy and Harbinger would have been affected as well... An EMP from Calamity while the smoke screen was up? A rush of sleeper agents to incriminate them even more?  Or perhaps a cosmic coincidence?
Nothing made any real sense to Tovarek as all he got where possibilities and he had no real proof.

The so called smokescreen had performed perfectly in Simon his eyes yet he was cursing at himself since they could not see what had happened to the Acheron task force while they went into cloaking and into the field. Tovarek was even more surprised when a hail came in from a small runabout shuttle. He narrowed his eyes and looked like the rest of the crew at the viewscreen as the man made his introduction. Simon had a certain feeling about this guy and got the feeling that he'd be quite interesting to get to know better.

As Fedd got the order to scan for what went on, Simon took the liberty to peek along and adjust certain scanners to lifesigns and structural integrity. Yet his attention was drawn away as he got a new order to work with Marlowe. He opened up a comm channel with Tatiana now and reported in "Lieutenant Marlowe, Simon Tovarek here, is there anything I can do to help you with damage control?" he asked and waited for a reply while he checked the ship for any major damage. His eyes looked up for a moment as he saw the captain and the commander walk towards the turbo lifts and when Lieutenant commander Stark had the bridge, his eyes went over her as she seemed to be a bit dazed by the sudden control she had been given. Yet she adapted quickly and Simon couldn't help but grin a bit while he continued to ran scans on the Theurgy for the most up to date damage reports.

[Amelya Duv | Battle sickbay]

While Amelya had her hands full with injured crewmembers of the Theta Eredina aftermath, more people seemed to be coming in that had gotten other injuries. The power fluctuations had made her life not much easier even though they got fixed in no time. She did what she could to most of her patients by stabilising them before moving on to another. She gave the  nurses advice on how to follow up their patients and if anything went wrong they could always call her back to help. Her hands were starting to feel a bit numb and she wondered how much more burn wounds she would be able to treat before the anti burn agent they were using was going to run out. The smell of charred meat had nestled in her nose and it would probably be one of those scents that she'd never forget.

She suddenly spotted a familiar face in the crowd of patients, a face she had seen not so long ago. "Rennan?" She murmured and made her way to him while she asked for a short briefing of the medical staff around him. They were busy trying to resuscitate him with everything they had. Yet after a new scan with her tricorder she realised it had no use. "I'm calling it guys... We need to focus on the people we can save." After encouraging her fellow medical staff to work she kneeled next to cooped and closed his eyes while she sighed and gave herself a moment to breathe. She couldn't save him, despite the efforts and restrictions she had given him on Theta. He was a subborn man and his so hard earned promotion didn't serve him much good now. She formed a fist and sighed deeply before standing up.

"Fedd to sickbay. Can I get an update on Mr. Cooper's condition?"

"Doctor Duv to Fedd, I'm afraid that lieutenant Cooper didn't make it. We did our best yet he couldn't be saved. I'm sorry lieutenant. Duv out." She replied with a bit of a broken voice. She tried to keep her voice strong and solid, yet her feelings betrayed her.  Yet there was no time to crash down herself as a new burn victim got beamed in on a biobed, screaming in agony and struggling to stay down...

USS Harbinger: Bridge

"Officer S'Iti, you have the bridge,"

The Cardassian nodded as she got up and spoke to the computer, "Reroute all tactical and Conn controls to the captain's chair," as she walked over to the chair.  It was the first time she had ben placed in this position of responsibility in Starfleet though the central seat was something that was far from alien to her.  For years she had been a different kind of captain in a far different fleet.  Hell the ship she captained wasn't too different from this one. Sure it was smaller but the controls hadn't changed that much.  Why would they, after all the maquis raiders were really just outdated Federation escorts.  Really nothing was different in terms of the layout sure the ships acted differently different weight to them engines completely different. Still though when she took the seat the feeling was all too familiar.  "Just like riding a bike."  she said to herself.  "you never completely forget."

About that time a chime came in to the bridge from the engine room.  "Bridge here, Captain's stepped out to discuss something with the XO she said sort of humorously feeling more like an answering service knowing there wasn't much she really would be able to do in their situation. "Leave your message after the tone."  she added.

Selena stifled a audible laugh over the comm, "Wow, a noncom in the Captain's chair never thought I would live to see that one.   well just wanted to let ya up there know that the power fluctuations have stabilized.  Looks like I can give us a definite hour of cloak if we stay still and if we cranked up the warp engines I would estimate a full minute at warp 5.  Any faster and I can't promise the cloak won't collapse on us or worse."

S'iti listened. "good to know I'll make sure the captain gets updated asap."

Back in the engine room Aisha made a few minor power calibrations and walked over to the next senior-most engineer.  "Keep an eye on the cloak and the power systems.  Tell me if anything goes goes outside the standard deviations.  I've going to the computer core Seems to be a communications error between the device and the ship.  if I correct it I should be able to get us able to stay in warp a lot longer when cloaked.


USS Theurgy: Fighter Bay

Miles watched and listened calmly  Everything seemed to be going as smoothly as it possibly could. 

"Looks like I'm not the only one to have returned from the dead either, eh flyboy?"

Miles nodded and spoke up for a second, "That's Senior Flyboy to you."  he said with a smirk not lowering the weapon though my his smile clearly showing no aggression towards the returned person.  He was suspicious and ready to fire if he had to but the level of candor in Cinn's voice put him at a bit more ease.  I'm sure they'll everything to you in the debriefing.  Sorry it's gotta be done in the brig but we gotta be careful.

The bajoran went on describing what he could and miles listened intently.  There were things he had trouble believing but given his encounter with the Ishtar entity Miles couldn't help but feel there was a bit of credibility in the excuse that the entities that lived in the Bajoran wormhole had facilitated his return.  They had moved in less subtle ways before after all so this kind of action wasn't unheard of for "The Prophets" as the Bajorans called them.  He would remain skeptical but he had to admit the prospect of "The Prophets" moving through Cinn wasn't the weirdest of things they had done.  "Wolves, fingers off the triggers but keep'em raised and ready."  He said to his fellow pilots knowing the tension was bound to be getting to everyone and knew that in all this tension the last thing they needed was one bad twitch to cause a tragedy.


USS Harbinger: Main Computer Core

Selena walked towards the softly humming core as she took the wire from the base of her neck.  "Maybe I'll finally have my answers now," she said to herself. yrs she had came down here to do what she said and there was that issue but that could be corrected in a matter of seconds.  the real reason she needed in hre wasnt the acces but the privacy for the work she had to do.  Within moments she was deep within the ships systems.  'so you had to talk in private eh captain?'  lets see what you are talking about.' her mind literially wandered through the coridors till she came upon a barrier or rather a void.  'Odd the ships security systems seem to be gone here.'  she thought to herself noticing the void in ship monitoring systems that existed beyond the door to the XO's ready room.  'You clever green blooded bitch.'  her mind echoed as she backed out of the stems and set about her original task. 

The necessary corrections were made quickly and on the bridge her voice cut through the silence. "S'iti, update on cloaking systems; We should be able to maintain warp with cloak for upwards of 5 minutes on current power.  Ravenholm out."  Selena said through the computer's voice systems before unplugging herself from the computer already making her way out of the core room and back towards engineering.

[Edena Rez - Fighter Assault Bay]

The Captain agreed with her need for precaution, clearly remembering his own time in Starfleet Intelligence.  perhaps that degree of paranoia had been a big reason their ship had lasted this long.  They erred to the side of caution, far better then charging recklessly forward.  Still, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for Trent, who came so far only to be treated with distrust.  "That feeling of guilt is mostly coming from you, isn't it Kiya?"

"You feel it too, Eden, but I am probably enhancing it with my own pity for him.  His actions were heroic, yet he is being cast with suspicion."

"A necessary evil," Jona said in her mind, that by-the-book Intelligence Officer training almost legendary from him.

"That might mean something to her if you two were still on speaking terms," Illya added, reminding Jona that his advice had been cast with it's own suspicion ever since Edena learned that the host previous to her had been restraining certain information from her, something only possible due to her flawed blending fracturing her former hosts into individual personalities.  "Just show some compassion, Eden.  It'll make you and Doctor Kiya feel better."


Out of her own head and back to reality, Edena spoke from her stern, professional manner to give an assuring smile to Trent.  "We will still value your input, Lieutenant Commander.  We will just need to show due diligence in confirming it until we know we are safe to trust your word entirely.  Just try to think of it as a temporary measure."

Turning to Cinn, Edena addressed the out-of-date information that the Bajoran currently possessed, in line with when he had left them through what should have been final means.  "Commander Nerina . . . ran into some trouble during one of our missions.  She is currently in medical stasis.  The Captain saw fit to name me as first officer in her place, a role I have sought to fulfill to the best of my ability."



[Declan Vasser - Harbinger XO Ready Room]

As T'rena slowly shed her clothes, revealing caramel colored skin that had been well taken care of over the years, Declan didn't appear all that phased by it.  Sure, there was the expected male reaction to expect when an attractive woman was disrobing, but it was hardly the shock of a man who was seeing it for the first time.  It was like he had seen T'Rena disrobe before, like her body was a familiar, welcome sight to him.  That lack of shock allowed him to take the words she spoke and process them without distraction . . . well, maybe he was distracted by a couple sights, but he was still getting everything she said.

"Harbinger's an old tool in a modern time.  She might have gone through several retrofits in her years, but there is only so many tricks you can teach an old dog," he replied, accepting that their ship, for all the service it had shown, was simply a relic in today's age.  Every year, new technology was coming along, and newer ships were being designed and built to make ones like theirs as relevant today as the old Constellation class was during the time of the Galaxy class, even the Sovereign class.

"When we were face to face with that attack force, I knew this ship wouldn't make it, but Theurgy?  That ship still had a chance.  It wouldn't win in a fight, but it was possible for it to escape and fight another day.  We can't say that about our ship."  So yes, Harbinger was expendable.  That point was obvious, but what T'Rena was implying was something far different.  As her trousers fell, exposing that well groomed patch of hair over her woman, some small part of him couldn't help but be amused with her upkeep.  One would think personal grooming on a Vulcan was illogical, at least until they were in their mating heat, yet she had always been well maintained.  He was sure she could make some logical argument for it, but he liked to think it was vanity, some part of her she wouldn't admit to that wanted to look a certain way, even if she was the only one who saw it.

"So your master plan is . . . what?  have as many children by me as possible, thinking they can reclaim the Federation one day?"  She saw something special in him, something she thought to be incorruptible.  She knew that he wasn't exactly what he claimed to be.  As she neared him, his hands moved to her hips, not as some signal that he was accepting the offer, but simply because she was a tempting sight, and he wanted to feel her, as he had felt her in the past, in times when neither of them spoke of aloud.  "How much infiltration would there be by then?  I can't imagine my bloodline would ever grow large enough to fend off that scale of invasion.  Am I to sire children with every female from here to the Delta Quadrant?"

As she was heading back out of the shuttle Dyan could feel a wave of nausea swell up from her feet to her head as she leaned forward her hand resting on the side wall of the cabin. Before she had figured it was to do with her head injury. Now with her ears becoming slightly misshape she knew it was more. The internal organs that had been moved around to look human where trying to reset themselves. Closing her eyes she tried to will her body to hold together just a little longer. "Not now, come on not now. Just hold together just a little bit longer," she whispered feeling another stomach turning wave of nausea rushing through her body making her stomach lurch slightly. Slowly though it died away and she knew she had to get back to her ship as soon as possible.

The shuttle was secure and the two discarded phasers had been properly secured. Slowly Dyan stepped out of the shuttle just in time to hear the mans break down. On some small level she could understand his pain about the shedding of innocent blood. Still what needed to be done needed to be done and there was no way of getting around it. The innocent had to die sometimes but that only made victory all that more important. Once more she slowly walked around the outside of the group that had been gathered to deal with their visitors before slowly making her way back to Ida's side before leaning in her voice slurred ever so slightly as her body was still fighting to keep its current form. "Shuttle is secure ma'am. Only thing to report was two discarded phasers," she spoke before bringing her rifle up her finger off the trigger as she tired to focus on what was going on around them. In the back of her mind she was praying to what ever power there was that her body held together long enough to avoid being detected.

USS Theurgy: Fighter Bay

Unfortunately, Dyan didn't go as undetected as she would have liked.  Despite his focus on the two who had stepped onto the bay something caught his attention, well at least his nose's attention.  He was greeted to a new scent that he had not experienced before.  There were certain things that he could discern.  It was the scent of a body. A certain minute body odor, a scent laced with the minute inflections of salt water and pheromones. But the scent was far too unfamiliar of the species here there were none he would find as having an unfamiliar scent.  All the "aliens" here were of species he was familiar with but this scent was truly alien.  It was far from a "bad" scent there was familiarity to it, it was a natural scent, even more natural than a humans, like the difference in breathing the stale air of an office building vs the air when deep in the woods.  This scent was closer to that of the woods on that scale of naturality.  Someone here was not who they appeared to be.

He tracked the source of the scent with his gaze slightly shifting to the side his sense of smell guiding his eyes gaze until they became fixed on an instant on the unfamiliar security officer stained with blood. 'curious' he thought to himself.  'Perhaps the captain and I aren't the only ones with a gift for changing one's skin.'  he would have to find out her particular secret.  He had no intent on revealing her to anyone else unless she was a danger.  given the blood stains he knew she must be the security officer who helped take Acreth into custody so in a certain way her loyalty to their cause had been proven.  Still the fact that she somehow survived and was so instrumental in Acreth's capture made him even more curious. She hid but yet from what he could tell had no reason to.  He knew he would have to find somewhere in private to confront her.  best not risk her loosing her mask to the ones she hid from he would respect that. 

Commander Rez' words caused Trent to raise his head and his grey eyes met her hazel gaze. Joined Trills, they had always been fascinating to Carrigan. Carrying the memories and experiences of past lived within them, to be able to refer to potentially centuries of knowledge and wisdom. And it explained how so many chronologically young Trills often rose up in ranks at a faster rate than other species.  And their measured responses gave these joined individuals an impression of careful deliberation, much like Edena was presenting Trent.

She indeed appeared sincere about his treatment despite his latest actions, even when he knew of the rather cold-blooded officer who had carried the Rez symbiont before she did. Granted, her file was one he hadn't particularly studied but he still had a passable knowledge of this former SI plant. And combined with this latest interaction and her genuinely words, Carrigan Trent felt he could trust her at least this far. "Ma'am, I want to believe you. I really do. But can you guarantee anything resembling fairness in this process? You have been hunted for some time now, I get this and our arrival could look a little convenient. May I request at least two pairs of eyes on every piece of information reviewed, including our... interrogations and their analysis to be done in complete independence?"

While that particular request could come through as onerous, it was part of basic analysis. If a piece of information was reviewed by a number of different perspectives, then the combined findings were more likely to be even more accurate. Hence why Intelligence products always went though a review before being released. "I would consider it a professional courtesy, from an Intelligence officer to another, Ma'am."

Something that Carrigan kept unvoiced, though, was the hope that volunteering for this increased scrutiny would further help in proving his intentions as being in Theurgy's best interests.

[ USS Harbinger | Executive Officer Ready Room | Deck 01 ]

"How much infiltration would there be by then?  I can't imagine my bloodline would ever grow large enough to fend off that scale of invasion.  Am I to sire children with every female from here to the Delta Quadrant?"

These questions that her Captain posed were easily answered. "While I have no doubt in your capacity, Captain, it would be absurd to expect an expedient result with such a crude and ineffective methodolgy," T'Rena said after he laid his hands upon her hips. Judging the timing opportune, she tilted her head to kiss her Captain, gradually pressing her body against his where they stood.

It was adequate for the progress of the conversation that Vasser was aroused by her body, because humans were more easy to convince when thus distracted. Not because there was any fault in her argument, but because the promise of coitus made them lower their guard - readily listening with an open mind to what was being suggested. For suggestion of carnal pleasure was translated to other suggestions, which was something T'Rena had observed and used since she left the Vulcan Defence Ministry and spent the remainder of her career amongst all the less logical humanoid species. To act like she felt and needed things also made them inclined to listen, since she usually did not express any such desires. It meant that she lied, yet if deception was the price she had to pay - this minor sacrifice of a tenet in the teachings of Kolinahr - she would do it for the betterment of the Galaxy's inhabitants and bringing absolute order to chaos.

Parting her lips from Vasser, she regulated her breathing to normal circumstances, and spoke while remaining close to him. "In your blood lies the answer, and its unique features can be subjected unto foetuses whilst still in the womb. You need not personally impregnate all women we gather for the war, but to ensure that your heritage lives on in all children to come. We need to precipitate evolution to gain our advantage, so that we can repopulate when we finally return to this part of space - no doubt desolated by its now imminent destruction. Accepting defeat is the first step in order to fall back and regroup for your second coming."

Not too firmly, T'Rena slid her hands down to her Captain's chest and pushed him closer to the edge of her desk, following him there without breaking contact. "Sadly, I doubt Captain Ives will be understanding," she said, not sounding sad at all - her voice still void of emotion despite her actions. She climbed up upon the edge of the desk - straddling and pinning his pelvis there with the juncture of her thighs. Suggestively, she ran her fine-boned Vulcan hands over his chest and neck while she spoke. "You know the Chameloid. Some Commanding Officers do not accept defeat. The mission is everything to them. They would rather grind their crews through whatever challenges may come at them until there are none left. They would even object to the unconventional means in which we will be able to ensure the children's survival. Ives is such a commander, and I can only foresee a definitive resolution to make your command over both crews absolute."

Laying her hands upon his sides, T'Rena slowly pushed Vasser down, making him lie upon his back. She now straddled the tumescence of his human organ, and it was easy to undulate her hips - slowly grinding her sex along the coarse fabric of his uniform and stroking the fire she had awakened. The light of the meditation lamp rippled over her body as she moved minutely. "I understand that mere words may be insufficient to relay the entire scope of my ruminations; the details of my thorough analysis. Here, Captain, let me show you, and you will understand."

She initiated the mind-meld as she lay her hand against Vasser's face, her fingers posed just so.

Alternatives. All recourses. All futile. No hope. All endings. Death upon death. Numbers. All probabilites. All futile. Current status. All current assets. Insufficient. Sole advantage. Survival. Survival by numbers. Tactical retreat. Genome mapping. Enhanced breeding. Obstacles. Uncompromising survival. Females spared. Breeding. Collecting ships. Building fleet. Growing numbers. Ratio of men. Ratio of women. Genetic engineering. DNA Resequencing. Genetic advantages. Species added. Betterment. Corruption no more. New breed. New chance. Preparation. Absolute order. Dicipline. Unfailing. Return. War. Victory. Resettlement. Rebuilding the ruins. Restoration of civilisation. One government. One Empire.

It occurred to her, as she showed him everything in blinding and rapid clarity, that it would ensure their survival even further if she made her Captain's faith in the future absolute. So, she began to forcefully project her own beliefs unto him through the meld. Her mind a finely tuned weapon through fifty years an Acolyte, she would ensure definitive faith - the feeling of his capacious mind making her lips purse in surprising elation.

Yet...


[ USS Theurgy |  Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ]

At the mentioning of Thenaljpar, Captain Ives realised just how much time had passed since they had faced Admiral Sankolov before the present day - in the desperate times before the Niga Incident in the Mahéwa System. The memory of that battle in the Borderlands was all too distant... even though it remained much too clear for Jien all the same. Both Tactical Officer Thenaljpar and Wenn Cinn had fallen that day, leaving T'Less and David Grayson to take their places. Now, even they were gone, just like their successors Rennan Cooper and Ben Vessery, whom had both perished within an hour ago.  As for the Bajoran, the only explanation that Jien got out of Wenn Cinn was that the Prophets had supposedly brought him back, and any other day preceding the Ishtar Incident, Jien would have discarded  the notion that there would be truth in such a claim.

After the shaved mountain of a man promised to cooperate, and stole an unreadable glance towards Edena Rez, Jien's First Officer answered in his stead. He was thankful to Edena for that, because Jien had not the heart to speak of how Nerina had ended up in a stasis unit. The blame lay not upon him, infected as he had been when his former XO had her accident, yet he was responsible for all his crew. To take them home. To clear their names. Not to subject them to rape and horror. To fire and death.

"A lot has happened, Commander Wenn," said Jien after Edena announced herself the new First Officer aboard, realising that if Cinn was who he said to be, he was looking upon Assistant Chief Counsellor Azhani, and thus the same Trill woman he had put in a holding cell days before he was listed as KIA. "Explanations will have to wait. Right now, we need to get out of sensor range from the fleet and take the necessary precautions to establish your true identies. We have many injured to tend to, and a ship running on untested technology."

Yet Commander Trent, standing next to Cinn, had sought to ask Edena for guarantees of fairness in their due process when Jien had spoken with his former CSec, so Jien had to cut this short. It had been a tough morning, to say the least. With the sudden cold temper that flared in Jien's eyes, he switched... into her female form - the sudden anger triggering the change.

"If you have doubts about being treated fairly aboard my ship, Commander Trent, then I do not only take it as a personal insult, but I'd suggest you try your chances with Admiral Sankolov instead," she snapped at the man, eyes cutting. "The same goes for questioning the word of my First Officer, who has also seen the inside of one of our holding cells prior to this day. The fact that she now stands by my side should be testament enough that you will not be harmed."

Having made this utterly clear, Jien stepped away. "She and I will both go over the intel that you have brought us, while Deputy zh'Wann will lead the interrogations." Passing by the Andorian and an unknown Petty Officer, Jien left her orders mid-stride. "Deputy, Transport them to separate cells, and request whatever personnel you require to ensure that they are who they say they are. Secure the contents of the bag and deliver it safely to my Ready Room."

Behind the Captain, the Deputy lowered her rifle and stepped towards the two alleged saviours. She looked at Wenn for a second, yet without ceremony or comment, she just tapped her combadge. "Thea, Deputy zh'Wann requesting two immediate prisoner Transports to Holding Cells A and B. Energise." Then, when the new passengers vanished from the flight deck, she finally dismissed the security detail, who fell out and moved to return to their posts.

Jien did not pause as she passed by Wing Commander Kilinvoss and his pilots. "Phantom, consider your squadron guests aboard until we rendezvous with the Harbinger and you can return to your base ship," then she turned to their own fighter pilots. "Wolves, show them our hospitality. There will be no patrols while we are cloaked."

As she walked towards the entrance to the Flight Hangar, Jien soon paused and looked towards her Yeoman, who had accompanied them and still remained by hers and Rez's side. Since her First Officer was there too, Jien could not bespeak what had happened the night before... "Thank you for relaying the coordinates to Cadet Amikris down there," she said instead, the image of the Ash'reem body upon the driftwood surfacing as she blinked, "If it weren't for you, I could not have found Sarresh Morali. I wish I had been able to save the Cadet as well, but it was too late. Yet her death lies not upon you, for she was already dying when I found her."

That being said, tough as it was to keep the hurt and the face of Amikris from her mind, there was still more to be done. "We will need your help to take notes as we go through the intel that Carrigan Trent brought, but I will have you rested and ready before then. Get yourself cleaned up and report to my Ready Room in a couple of hours. Dismissed, Yeoman."

Taking a deep breath, Jien resumed her pace towards the double doors together with Rez. "Ours is not a primrose path, Commander... Yet at least we are still alive."

---

OOC: Further posting here is free for all. The Harbinger scene continues a bit longer, for instance. TheBanshee, I saw that Tovarek has cued Tia. Cathreen DaWinter, I know that Miles Renard will be speaking with Dyan here too before Ida gets to her.

I will be setting up new designated threads for everyone to use as soon as I have time to write them so stay tuned and I will let you all know when they are there!

She stood by zh'Wann and watched a little surprised to see the caption of the ship change from male to female which surprised her even though she fought back the reaction. She head heard of shape shifters before but this was her first seeing one in person. Her weapon remained raised as the captain walked past leaving an order she felt wouldn't apply too much to her since she was sure she would be returning to her ship at the earliest possible time. As the deputy lowered her rifle Dyan's would stay trained on the two not trusting them tell they where either properly secured or they where out of her sight. It would seem the latter was to happen as their bodies disappeared as they where transported to their respective holding cells. It was only then that Dyan would lower her weapon as the security detail was dismissed. She knew things on this ship had to be hectic so she slowly stepped away from the main group letting zh'Wann work with out her asking the question of what they where going to do with her. In truth she didn't belong here yet. She wasn't an assigned officer to this ship and didn't have a place to report to. All she could do no now was wait tell they needed her or sent her back.

Slowly she found a quite spot against one of the walls as she once more released pressure on her injured leg. How these humans could live with out the ability to regenerate was beyond her. It wasn't the pain that really bothered her but more the inconvenience of it. Slowly her eyes turned watching the shape shifting captain leave before letting out a small breath watching the others.

Miles listened intently to the words though at this point his focus was ever so slightly off  He was more than relieved to hear they had time to make some repairs to the fighters while cloaked.  Lowering the weapon then shouldering it he looked around for a moment.  Ya heard the captain wolves, You're on gust detail.  By that I mean escort Phantom and his crew to Below decks.  All of you have earned a bit of a reprieve from the action."  he paused. before turning to Phantom and threw him a small keycard of sorts.  "Behind the bar in below decks Third cubby to the right.  Makes sure the wolves get their fair share too"*

That said he turned his attention to the strange scent he had noticed before turning to the semi injured security officer from the harbinger who was leaning against the wall in the bay.  before turning to her fully where she was fully he spoke up, "Papa Bear, the bay's yours; you know what to do. "

Miles walked towards the security officer and held out his hand smiling, "You mind joining me in my office There's a few things about the prisoner capture I wanted to ask about.  I know I'm not security itself but since my pilots aren't flying I figure half of them will be on security detail till we're back in the air."

---

OOC:
*The stored items are several bottles on non-synth alcohol.  Most are from Earth a few from elsewhere nothing too exotic most are just basic run of the mill things like a rather ordinary Irish whiskey a mid tier blended scotch. few bottles of Jack and Jim.   More a less basic stuff but the real stuff.

She stood only picking out bits and pieces of the conversations that where going on around her. Of course those who where louder where heard more then those that where not talking as loud. Her deep green eyes focused on one that seemed to approaching her as she looked over his frame and slowly up to his face as a slender brow rose slightly in a questioning manner. Her eyes slowly looked over the extended hand before her eyes slowly moved back up to him. One could usually tell a lot about person about how they carried themselves and so far he seemed open enough. Shifting the rifle so it hung over her shoulder she gently took his hand shaking it while offering a small but still slightly apprehensive smile. "Dyan Cardamone," She said figuring names would be a good place to start. While having to keep her cover she found it better to avoid social contact so she was still a little uncertain about how to act fully among these peoples.

Hearing him wanting to know about the prisoner capture her smile only grew knowing that would be something she could talk about with no problem. "You may not be security but you still protect your ship and the people in it. So in a lot of ways we do the same job," she said seeing their roles when it came to the ship and crew being close to the same. "You just have a bigger area to work," she said slowly pushing herself off the wall as she looked up at him. "I'll tell you what I can about my part in it if you wouldn't mind providing something to drink," she said waiting for him to lead the way. Something told her that she wouldn't be needed for a while.

He smiled hearing her name, "Miles Renard, and no problem at all, just follow me to my office."  He led the way smiling softly leading her into the room and walking over to a small wall panel near the door opening it up revealing a small safe of sorts. "I trust that since this isn't your ship you won't report me for my unregistered cargo." he said taking a 12 ounce bottle and another medium sized liquor bottle from the 'hole in the wall'  He subtlety pressed a few commands into the door as he walked by it. as he made his way to the replicator and spoke to it. "Ice, sperical."  Two spheres of ice came from the replicator which he picked up and put into each glass the spheres top near even with the  rim of the glass before he poured the amber brown liquid from the alcohol bottle into the glasses. going about a quarter of the way up before opening the glass bottle with his hands the bottle making a soft sound of escaping air  before he poured the contents into each glass letting it go to about 3/4 of the way up cascading smoothly over the ice sphere making a few soft bubbles. "Nice little drink I discovered for myself on Earth when I was test pilot for the Valk 3s my squad has.  He said taking a sip from his glass of the concoction the bartender who introduced it to him had called a 'Rum-and-Coke.'  For years now it was his go to drink for winding down after a particularly stressful combat engagement.  something about the soft drink's fizz combined with the molasses and alcohol in the rum just put him in that perfect state of ease to combat the stresses of knowing how close death had been. 

He sat her glass on his desk before taking a seat in his own chair on the other side of it before leaning back and kicking his feet up on his desk relaxing as he took another sip closing his eyes as he inhaled the soft scent of the mixture enjoying the pop of the carbonation against his lips and feeling the air bubbles seem to pop against the tip of his nose as he took in the particular aroma almost like some connoisseur of a fine wine taking in its bouquet.

"Go ahead and make yourself at home, we don't have to talk about the incident right this minute.  Since my squad's heading to the lounge and the bay has a lot of fighter repairs to do I doubt anyone will be needing me for a while.  It seems both of us have had a rather hectic day."

Slowly she fell into step behind Miles  thinking nothing that someone would want to know about the escape and recapture of a dangerous subject. She slowly followed him into the room stopping at the door as she slowly looked around before finally stepping in. Hearing his comment about unregistered cargo an honest smile formed over her lips. "What unregistered cargo? All I see is some bottles. Last I checked we didn't get people in trouble for having bottles," she said shrugging off one rifle resting it against the door by the wall before the second one joined it. "Personally I have never really cared what so of unregistered things people have so long as it doesn't effect their ability to preform their duties," she said as she eyes continued looking over the office before her eyes once more focused on Miles. She could smell the scent of rum and something else filling the room making her smile slightly. She could feel her ears twitching hearing a soft sound escaping into the air as her hand quickly rose cupping her ear softly feeling it hadn't changed appearance anymore. Still this meeting offered a possibility that she hadn't considered at first. "Have you always been interested in being a pilot?" she asked knowing the pure pleasure that came from flying. In her true form it was something she use to do just for the pure feeling of it.

When he took his seat she took the seat on the other side slowly taking the drink as she brought it to her nose smelling the rum and felt the bubbles brush against her nose. It wouldn't take long before she had to bring her hand up rubbing the bottom of her nose to ease the tickling sensation. Hearing the invitation to make herself at home Dyan slowly pulled the confiscated weapons laying them on the desk before she moved carefully resting her head on one side of the chair as her long legs draped over the other arm of the chair being careful not to hit the tender spot on her leg. "I don't think they will be needing me for a while unless somehow I could find a way back to the Harbinger," she said taking a small sip of the drink feeling the bubbles brush over her nose once more. The feeling bringing another smile to her lips. "I hate leaving her like that," Her head rested against the chair as her attention focused on him.

"It's been an......interesting day," she commented taking another small drink before letting the drink and her hands rest on her slightly curled stomach. "But at least we have lived long enough to see it," she said remembering waking among the bodies of her fellow security officers. "Thank you for the drink," she said finally letting her body relax for the first time since she woke. "Since we have some time, tell me Miles what is the life of a fighter pilot like? Well besides fighting and flying,"

[ USS Theurgy, Deck 15, Fighter Assault Bay, CWO1 Sten "Papa Bear" Covington ]

There were few things that really annoyed the Theurgy's Chief of Flight Deck Operations. And one of them was a three-ring circus in his bay. And that is what he just had, with the rapid landing of two ships' worth of fighters and some random runabout. Not to mention that business with a man who should be dead and some random guy in a red shirt and a black coat.

That last bit was one of the reasons this 40-year Starfleet veteran was glad he wasn't a commissioned officer. Much less bullshit when he was left to his own devices to run his flight deck.

As the order came from Renard to get to work, Sten Covington's gravelly yet booming voice sounded over the noise of dispersing personnel. "Yes Sir, all over it. Wolves, before you go and get tanked, I want your status and ordnance reports. Flight and Tac reports to the SCO as usual. Iron Fox, my consolidated report will be on your desk shortly. Visitors, secure your gear with your birds, last thing we need is a trip hazard on my deck."

It was with a confidence born from decades of service and experience that he spoke such, effectively giving orders to the pilots on the flight deck. But then again, on this ship there was an understanding: unless ordered otherwise  Chief Warrant Officer First Class Sten Michael Covington, Chief of the Deck, callsign Papa Bear and designated as Wolf-Zero, was the voice of God when it came to the operations of the fighter bay.

"Phantom, Sir, if any of your birds have a pressing space worthiness issue, please have your pilots let me know directly and I'll make sure she'll get back to Harbinger under her own power. Otherwise, I'm afraid your post-flight maintenance will have to wait until you're back to your barn."

Having addressed all the concerns he had so far, Sten finally called out to his ground crew. "All right boys and girls, pilots have had their fun, time for the real work. Crack our birds open and get those diagnostics running, we don't have all day. And someone, cold-move that runabout somewhere out of the way, I'll go over it myself. Let's go!"

And so detailed, the Bear Cubs, Theurgy's fighter support staff, went to work.

He smiled softly, "I wanted to be a pilot since I was a kit." he said as he relaxed letting his natural form seemingly grow out as hair slowly seemed to grow and his face seemed to distort and become more canine until what sat in the chair was essentially a large anthropomorphic fox.  I have been a starfighter pilot for years beyond the Federation even knowing of my world.  Really when I joined the Federation it was just a transfer of an already long career as a fighter pilot.  given my years of Experience in a similar squadron when the tac con department was formed I was a natural choice to be added to the star-fighter corps.  Still there is a certain joy.  A freedom in flight that you cant feel any other way.  sometimes you forget where your body ends and your ship begins.  Its amazing really.  AS for the life I dont really know anymore snce I'm the CO now its more paperwork and I am scheduling sims and work orders as much as I am doing patrols.  Still its worth it to be the advocate for the members of my squad."  He smiled as it was his turn now... his turn to ask the question he had tricked her in here to ask.

"So, mind telling me who I'm really looking at he said with a soft smile.  Cause I'm obviously not looking at a human." He said softly still leaning back.  "And don't worry I already turned off Thea's eyes and ears in here.  I have no intention of blowing your cover whatever it is.  If she wants to know why I was being so secretive I'll come up with something.  I'm sure she will understand.  To be honest I'm just curious.  Ever since You came in I noticed your scent was odd. Well, not odd, just Not matching your skin so to speak.  You look human but the scent just don't match."

He said swirling the drink around again trying to be as friendly as possible in revealing what he already could tell.  Obviously she must have had a reason to wear this false skin so he knew it was bound to be a touchy subject.  After all he didn't want her to panic so he had made no additional moves.  Her weapon was closer to her than his was to him.  He had shown his true form to her, he had disadvantaged himself and put himself in a situation where her secret would never leave this room if she were to end his life then and there.  He woudl have to trust that she was the officer she was pretending to be.  It was a gamble but everything about what little he knew about her seemed to say she wasnt the type that would kill an innocent just for discovering her secret.  Or at least that's what he hoped.

She sat letting her body relax as she listened to him talk seeing he seemed to be one that like flight as much as she. The sudden growth of hair caught her attention as she watched him change taking on a more canine appearance. When all was said and done she found herself talking to someone who more resembled a fox then human. Slowly she took a sip from the drink slowly growing accustom to his new appearance. Looking over the freshly grown fur one question entered her mind and at one she mentally chastened herself. She had just raised the glass to her mouth when he spoke again causing her small body to freeze. The soft bubbles of the drink no longer tickling her nose as she mind worked on processing his words. So many thoughts cascaded through her mind.

Run, no idiot where would you run to? Attack? No not that either. Then what? Do nothing? He said he had wasn't going to blow your cover. What if he is lying? Think about it. If he had been lying he would has said something before it was just the two of you.

Her eyes slowly traveled to her phasers resting in easy reach should she choice to attack. Still that was not her. She had been responsible for killing innocent people before and she had swore she would never do it again. Closing her eyes she let a small sigh escape her lips before she took a small drink before she leaned back forcing her body to relax. "I do have to offer my complements. I know T'Rena suspected something wasn't right but you are the first to know it," she said looking into his eyes. She had been caught and there was no denying it. "The Federation and your people don't have a name for my kind yet as we have not made first contact yet," she said slowly rotating the glass in her hand. "I can tell you my kind is not the ones responsible for the current infection going on," she said figuring it would be a good place to start. "And you are right this skin is not right. Nothing more then an end result of genetic treatments and surgical procedures," she said shifting slightly in her chair a slight smile crossing her lips. In someways it was a relief having the charade partly over. "That genetic part is slipping slight hence the change in scent. If I had managed to get back to my ship you probably wouldn't have been able to tell the difference," she said shrugging her shoulders softly.

"I can not nor will I explain why I am here and why I hide my true form. My mission is too important and there are too many that are counting on its success. The success of these ships and her crews. All I can do is assure you that me and my people mean no harm," She slowly took a small sip as she got around to a question that had been forming in her mind. "So tell me, Why keep this secret? I figured as soon as someone found out it would made public. I was not expecting a quite personal questioning," she said as a faint pink coloring touched her cheeks as she decided to ask another question that formed in her mind when he had changed forms. "And since we are satisfying curiosity. Would you...um...mind..if I touched your fur...before I left?" she asked wondering if it would be an odd question to be asking. "Sorry I am just curious as to its texture,"

There was a chirp from Dyan Cardamone's blood-stained combadge after she spoke, and the voice of Deputy ThanIda zh'Wann was heard in the office. Her tone was not terse, but broke no argument.

[zh'Wann to Cardamone. Report to Corridor A in front of the turbolifts. zh'Wann out.]

Miles smiled softly hearing her explanation and for the most part his curiosity was sated satisfied in his detective work so to speak.  Before he could reply though he was interrupted by the familiar chirp of a com badge and taped his own in response. "Renard to zh'Wann, she's in my office; we are on our way."  he said as he popped back up into his chair properly and quickly popped off his shoes, the only part of his uniform that tended to be uncomfortable in this form as his legs tended to change so drastically from the human like to his true form. 

He smiled at her softly as got out of his chair and downed his drink before offering her a hand helping her get up aware of the injury to her leg.  once she was up he bent his head down and gently rested it on her shoulder. "Of course you can touch it." he said semi flirtatiously.  His forehead gently grazed her neck as he invited her to pet his head so to speak.    He then added, " before we were interrupted I was going to ask if you could please describe to me what your true appearance is though.  I imagine the hair and eyes must be from it. The hair is not a "normal" human shade especially for your apparent age, and the eyes, well rarely do human eyes radiate in that way.  Whatever you are from those few hints it must be beautiful." he added hoping flattery would get him somewhere in this case, and knowing their time for conversation had been cut short and a brief explanation was all he would be able to manage at the most.  Ida, after all, was not known for her patience.

[ USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ]

As the promise of heading to Below Decks had already been spoken, the notion to hand in their reports was to many - including Nightmare - a source of great frustration. Yet Papa Bear had spoken, and there was little choice to the matter. Hannah filed in with the rest of the wolves, all of them picking up their knee PADDs and tapping in the required information. A couple of them had to climb up into their cockpits to get the info they needed from their HUDs, others did a visual inventory of their hard points and checked the external indicator on their micro torpedo launchers. Rawley walked up to Chief Covington ahead of Nightmare, and the shaven pilot tossed her PADD to the man before nodding towards the damaged Reaver further down the hangar.

"You have my Valk report, but I have no fucking idea what to say on that one," she said with a grin, hand phaser held loose at her side, "but I'd love to fly it again sometime. Hope you can make heads or tails out of its systems. Oh, and I will be keeping this flight suit until tomorrow, because I will have you know... that I have not a thread of clothing underneath it. Hope you can respect a lady's wishes, Papa."

After Rawley winked and walked away, Nightmare handed over her own PADD. "I have a ton of ash and debris in those engines, but I am far from alone in that regard. I hope your guys like cleaning duty..." she smiled and raked back some hair from her lips with her gloved fingers, her rifle on her shoulder, "Oh, and I suspect the Shuttle Bay is filled with both Theurgy and Harbinger shuttles with all possible levels of damage, Chief. You might want to pull some people from.... somewhere... to get that sorted. At least we made sure they came aboard... Sorry about the mess though."

Hannah walked away, and as she looked over her shoulder to check out the Chief's fine posterior, her eyes were drawn to the less appealing sight of Phantom's countenance as he stepped up to the Chief of the Deck. "I have no ETA as to where we meet up with my base ship," he rasped in his damaged voice, both his mismatched eyes unblinking - even the lidded one, "yet we will fly them ourselves there in due time. If you can spare someone to clear our engines, I would appreciate it..."

Then the Wing Commander - who three months ago had held command over forty fighters - handed over a PADD to the Chief with the collective reports on the eight Valkyrie II:s that remained of his Wing. He walked away without looking back, his seven hardened pilots following in his wake like a band of rough brigands from feudal times.

Her eyes continued watching him as she explained what she could with out giving away too much information about her mission here. There where so many things she couldn't say to anyone, let alone someone she had just met a few moments ago. Though before anything else could be said the all to familiar chirp of a com badge and zh'Wann's words pretty much ended the conversation going past this point. She remained quite as he said 'they' where on their way her brow would raise slightly in curiosity. She downed the rest of her drink shivering slightly as it went down. When she looked back up she saw him standing there offering his hand to help her up which she willing accepted thankful for the help.

When his head lowered and she felt the soft pressure on her shoulder her small body tensed out of instinct more then anything else. Even before she left her people she hadn't had much if any real physical contact with others. It had always been something she had refrained from for her own reasons.  It would be more then apparent that all the blood on her uniform wasn't hers as it seemed all the blood had found its way to her cheeks. Slowly her hand rose small fingers brushing over his muzzle before slowly moving along to the deeper fur around his cheek. Her touch was light and soft but enough she could get a feel for what his fur felt like. When her fingers moved to the deeper part of his fur she pressed her fingers in slightly feeling some of it brush over the top of her hand. Slowly her hand moved up to his ear as a soft smile formed over her lips. Slowly her body started relaxing as her hand slowly moved from his ears down to his neck.

She had heard the semi flirtatious tone in his voice and it made her smile along with blushing a little deeper. Her head turned slightly as she felt his forehead gently grazing her neck. It had been a very long time since she last been this close to another. A couple hundred years as best she could remember. "The hair is my natural hair color," she found herself whispering probably due to their closeness. "As for my true form pointed ears, horns, a scaled tail and slightly claw like fingers," she spoke feeling a little shy as he spoke that her true form must be beautiful. "I am sure from the way things seem to be going I will probably be back in it sooner or later. Maybe after that we could share another drink and we could see what you think about it," she whispered as her hand slowly lowered down to his arm. "But before we go out tell me do you talk to all the women like this?" All she needed was a small answer before they would leave and she would find where they where placing her now.

He nodded, "Only the ones that I want to share another drink with, and peerhaps one day I will see the true form or maybe you will never have to reveal it." he said raising his head.  "Besides I was going to make my way down that corridor anyways so may as well say both of us."  he said walking over to the door pressing a few buttons as the door opened, he looked over to the near computer console and sighed, "sorry for having to put my hands over your ears Thea.  Just a private conversation's all."

he grabbed a few things before heading over to where Sten was.  "Sorry bout the mess in your bay Chief. he said handing the man his own Knee PADD.  I think I'm going to join up with my pilots for a moment before heading back here."  With that he headed out the door with Dyan headed towards the corridor where the security officer waited.

As much as she fought it Dyan found herself smiling at his words. As he raised his hear her eyes looked into his. "Then perhaps one day we can share another drink," she spoke waiting tell he had stepped away before retrieving her weapons hearing he was going to make his way down that corridor anyways. "I won't say no to the company, your fur is softer then I though it would be," When the door opened she stepped out but not before giving him a look that she hoped would read as a silent 'thank you'. As they headed out the door she could only hope it would mean she would find out that she would be getting back to her ship and the medicine that would help prevent any more changes. As much as that one taught was with her there was still the thought of Sarresh Morali and the consideration that she could help heal him. Of course the physical closeness shared by the one who walked beside her even as brief as it had been still played through her mind. Somehow her brothers words came back to her. 'All things happen for a reason and only in the times they are meant to happen. Nothing we can do can prevent or force them to happen. All we can do is our part,'.

"Tell me Miles, do you think everything happens for a reason?" she asked as they drew closer to the corridor. She couldn't prevent her discovering if it was to come. No more then one could prevent their death. If it was to happen it was to happen. She would let fate decide what would happen next. As they approached zh'Wann she would salute her superior officer. "You wanted to see me ma'am?"

[ USS Theurgy fighter bay - CWO1 Sten "Papa Bear" Covington ]

There was no hiding the amused smirk and chuckle from the Chief of the Deck when the pilots began grumbling about their reports. Perhaps the Captain promised them downtime in the lounge, but they still had some obligations. And really, while he and his staff were more than capable of pulling the ship reports themselves, it would take more time and slow down the maintenance routine. As for the flight and tactical reports, those had to be done up by the pilots themselves, since they were far more subjective in nature than the cold hard facts of system statuses and ammunition expenditures.

And with a further eight birds needing their engines de-gunked, it would be some time before the Theurgy's squadron would be fully combat capable again. And not to mention a shuttlebay to sort out, a new runabout to check out and either strip for parts or add to the ship's complement. And that nightmare fighter Rawley had somehow captured to go over.

Yes, the Cubs and their Chief would be busy all right.

However, despite the planning he was starting to come up with, Sten did manage a few replies to the pair of pilots that had been the most verbose.  First, he addressed Ranger.  "Your flight suit and how you wear it is your responsibility, girl. If you want to stow it in your locker right now, I'm sure no one is going to complain. I know I'm not."

Then, as he gave Slaverton's report a quick once-over, he did give her a cursory answer. "Thanks for the heads-up. And don't worry, the mess will get sorted out. And since none of you are going to fly for a while, I might put you pilots to do some real work. Have fun while you can, because once you're back on duty you're going to get dirty."

Despite his gruff tone and the seriousness of the work at hand, there was a certain playfulness to Covington's words. After all, they were his pilots and it was his job to bust their chops and keep them from getting too big for their britches. And having them do some deck ape work helped in reminding everyone the flight deck was a team environment and that cooperation between the ground crew and the pilots was necessary so both could do their jobs right.

However, the Harbinger's SCO did not even stick around long enough to get a reply. To Sten, it seemed as though that mess of a man was one who firmly believed pilots were far above their deck crew. His words, while courteous as he was really in no position to make demands, were laced with the expectation his fighters would be fully spaceworthy by the time they would cross back to their own hangar. And part of Sten wondered if Kilinvoss was actually expecting a full maintenance work-up done by the time he would fly home. However, that the Chief quickly answered for himself: no fucking way we're burning more man-hours than we need to get them home safely. Not until my birds are sorted out., was his unspoken thought.

As Sten began to compile the consolidated report in his mind and firming up the priority of work, his own SCO walked out of his office and addressed him on his way out with that cute little thing who'd searched the runabout earlier.  "Take your time, Boss but we'll take whatever help you can rustle up for the grunt work. Right now, we're looking at a minimum of two-three days just getting your Wolves ready to get back out there unless we run into trouble with anything." The rough estimate was given with the conditions Sten had been imposing after any major flight ops. That would mean his crew working fourteen hour days and meals delivered to the bay instead of wasting time with showers and changes of clothes. "But one way or another, the deck took a pounding with the combat landings. Even if the Captain wanted flight ops, I'd have to shut it all down until the divots get pounded out and we confirm deck integrity. And that's at least another day. More if we need to shore it up or replace some framing. Kick me all your pilots and I can shave maybe eighteen hours right off the top, more if you can convince Phantom and his pilots to get their hands dirty too."

And, with this report given and his superior gone, Sten turned to his bay and his staff, and quickly addressed them. "Thomason, take two guys with you and get to the shuttlebay. Get that unfucked and work on the shuttles. Come back when you're done. Rest of you, let's divide and conquer. Marquette, take three and get those Mark 2's spaceworthy. Unless it affects basic space worthiness, leave if alone. Minimum work on these. Once you get that done, back to our birds. Rest of us, let's get to work, you know the drill."

Having so addressed his personnel, Sten then accessed the fighter bay public address system via the engineering PADD he always carried in his toolbelt and before long, the aggressive beats of the ancient Earth band AC/DC's Thunderstruck joined the sounds of working men.

Miles shrugged, I dont like to really think about the whole question of fate and destiny to be honest.  Guess its cause I don't have a clear answer for myself on it.  Still I am sure that whatever happens or whatever you decide to to it will be fine," he said continuing to walk with her before they turned the corner and approached the deputy.

---

((OOC: sorry for short post I just needed to wrap it up and give her her answer is all.))

[Tatiana Marlowe | Main Engineering]

Finally getting a moment to look over a complete list of repairs needed she sighed heavily, there was a lot of work that needed to be done.  At least they were still in one piece and they could still move under their own power.  Things could be worse.  As soon as the thought passed through her mind she quickly added 'but I really don't need them to be, please and thank you'.

As her combadge went off she sucked in a breath sharply with surprise, she had been so intensely reading she had drifted off into her own world of planning, the breath led to a coughing fit that had her double over.  Tia pulled a disgusted face before spitting out some more volcanic gunk into the tissue she had been given.

"Marlowe here Tovarek.  Right now I wouldn't say no to help from anyone but you might just regret that offer.  I'm sure you can see how much needs doing.  I'll prioritise the list for you, if you get started on what you can do I'll get on with what I can do down here," Tia smiled, this definitely seemed like a great crew.  There was plenty of hands-on for the crew down here to be doing and having someone up there able to work on the remote things was a blessing.

She ran through the list, prioritising what they would need to survive, before uploading it for everyone to see.  Pulling together the team leaders she set out tasks and sent them on their way to relay orders and begin working.  Tia would work on making sure they had the power and the cloak available just in case whatever was going on up there needed it.  With a bit more time to tinker with her new toy she thought she might just be able to get it integrated into their systems a little better than the jury-rigging she had had to pull off to get it working in the emergency.  She had no idea how long it would have held out for and if there was a sudden need for it again she didn't want to see it blow itself up.

[Wenn Cinn | Brig]

"A lot has happened, Commander Wenn. Explanations will have to wait."

Damned straight there were a lot of explanations needed.  Nerina in stasis and a proven spy now masquerading as XO.  No mention of his friend.  Whatever was going on here needed a stiff drink along with that explanation he thought.

He sat there, in his cell, his forearms on his knees, fingers clasped together, looking up through the forcefield that kept him inside.  It looked different on this side of the cage. Yet there was nothing he could do except wait, caged like an animal.  Imprisonment was not something Cinn was good at, too many years of seeing what it did to people back home had left the negative impression in his subconscious about it although he could control it and knew nothing like that would happen here.

Cinn resorted to his outlet and shifting position he decided to test this dead body of his out a little.  Placing his feet on the bed he dropped into press-up position and began to work out.  He changed from both hands to one and then the other, testing his strength hadn't left him.  Each movement was slow and controlled, designed to test the limit of every muscle fibre.  It felt good to feel the muscles working, to have that sensation of being very definitely alive after everything that had happened. 

[Declan Vasser - Harbinger XO Ready Room]

T'Rena resorted to the use of the Vulcan Mind meld, the process by which she could relay information with much more clarity and visual focus, providing not just raw data, but even vague visions of the future how she saw it.  What she foresaw was an army, ships from various cultures commandeered for the use of fighting back against the compromised Federation, manned by crewmen who were hybrids of many races, all joined with his DNA to create something stronger, something better.  Even if it wouldn't in his lifetime, it would be his legacy, that which he left to the galaxy, freedom from parasitic oppressors of unknown origin.

Vasser's hand rose up, gripping T'Rena's wrist and forcing it away from his face.  "If you're going to show me, you should me, T'Rena.  Did you think I wouldn't feel you, tapping into my emotional center, trying to make me more agreeable with your plan?"  As though she were a frail woman, with the strength of a kitten, not the physically superior Vulcan she was, Declan, forced her back against the desk, back pressing to the table, as a hand pressed against her throat, offering the threat of strangulation.

"Didn't I warn you about doing that before?  When you were trying to change my mind on the defense strategy near Outpost 49?"  She thought his plan suicidal, and had attempted to alter his thinking, only for him to force her off that time too.  He proceeded with his plan as was, and not a single life aboard their ship was lost, a major victory for the Harbinger, as well as for Declan over T'Rena's way of thinking.

"I'm not exactly disagreeing with what you're suggesting, but I don't like being manipulated, Commander.  I'm a player in the game, not a pawn to be moved about the board."

[USS Theurgy Brig - LCmdr Carrigan Trent]

The tingling of the transporter beam was something Carrigan Trent was quite familiar with. After all, being attached to an Admiral's staff involved a fair bit of travel as a rule and to this day, there were still few convenient ways to board a ship in orbit or to move from ship to ship in close proximity.

But in this case, it was not some anonymous transporter pad that received Trent but the equally anonymous inside of a holding cell. And at least, while his combadge had been taken in the transport process, they had not taken his prosthetics. Hopefully, it was a sign of decency and consideration from the security staff and not an oversight from the transporter operator.

What was there for Carrigan to do? First he paced, second drank some water from his tap, and finally sat down on the bunk after stripping off his coat and uniform jacket. With a chuckle, the Intelligence officer called out, not even sure if his fellow recent arrival could hear him.  "Hey, Wenn, not to speak ill of your shop, but this room could use a better view. How is the room service here?"

There was little humour in the Human's voice, but at least it was there. For what else could be do?

And, without waiting for an answer, Carrigan neatly folded his jacket and rolled his coat into a crude pillow, which he then laid on.

Now, the wait before the interrogation. Hopefully, whoever was going to conduct it could tell the difference between friends and foe. At this point, it was uncertain if anyone on this ship even thought they had allies of any sort out there...

[USS Theurgy, Main Bridge]

"Doctor Duv to Fedd, I'm afraid that lieutenant Cooper didn't make it. We did our best yet he couldn't be saved. I'm sorry lieutenant. Duv out."

Sjaandin realized he had spaced out. It was unusual for Betazoids, being mostly a Terran affectation. Amelya's words finally made it to his cerebral cortex and he shook his head in sorrow. He had not known Rennan Cooper very well, nor particularly been fond of the man... but he was a good officer. To go down like that... Fedd had hoped to earn his position through merit, not through a string of tragic deaths. While the bridge was less crowded now, they were out of danger for the moment and other crew members' minds were beginning to wander. The strain was getting to him again, and Sjaandin realized he had been digging his nails into his palms, leaving angry red marks. He ought also to get that cut on his hand fixed...

As he turned away from his station to locate the nearest medkit, he found himself looking at Natalie again. As he walked towards the medkit's storage space, near the rear of the bridge, a sudden urge to read more of her thoughts hit him, and he suddenly reached out towards her with both his mind and his left arm, a curiously hungry expression on his face. Suddenly he paused, blinked, and restored his face to an attitude of total neutrality. Clearing his throat, he lowered his arm and continued to the medkit.

"Excuse me," he mumbled.

Now where the hell had that come from? Adrenaline, psychic feedback? Were someone else's feelings imprinting on him again? He needed to make another appointment with the counsellor, if they ever had any time, if they even still had a ship's counsellor anymore. He was beginning to have trouble keeping track.

Fedd did not even notice that his hands were shaking as he fumbled to open the medkit and check if the regenerator was charged. It was, and he began sealing the cut. It healed up nicely, being the most minor of injuries. He wished he could point the bloody thing at his mind, fix his emotional barriers. A disturbing thought occurred to him, and he swept the room with his mind to see if anyone was looking at him. When he was sure he was not being observed, he quickly pressed a hypospray to his arm. It was loaded with a mild sedative, less than half the smallest dose. Just to dull the edges of the telepathic saw blade being drawn across his mind, he told himself. He coughed, to cover the soft hiss of the injector, and put the medkit back before returning to his station.

"So, Tovarek. Did I miss anything?"

[ USS Theurgy | Deck 15 | Corridor A ]

As the two approached Deputy ThanIda zh'Wann was leaning against the wall of the corridor next to the turbolifts. She looked up, arms folded, and inclined her head in answer to the salute - pushing away from the wall..

"You wanted to see me ma'am?"

"Yes, it is urgent that all personnel are fit for duty, and you are not in your condition," she said, turning to face the Petty Officer - antennae rising. "You need to report to Sickbay and get your wounds tended to. Once you are cleared from medical, you will either report back to the Harbinger, or - if we have yet to rendezvous with them - you will report for duty aboard the Theurgy in the meantime. Hand over all your weapons, Petty Officer. Here is a lift to take you to Sickbay."

Ida held out a hand, all business and not expecting any argument.

On her mind was the solution for determining the truth about the new passengers. Medical scans seemed to not do the trick. At least not yet. They were liabilities until proven otherwise. Question was if they could ever be trusted. A dead man and someone who could shut down a full fleet - one-time-opportunity or not.


[ USS Harbinger | Executive Officer Ready Room | Deck 01 ]

To have her hand wrenched away - the mind-meld aborted - made T'Rena's head reel. Such a deep connection torn out, and the strength of her arm was nothing, it proved to T'Rena that she had been utterly right.

Yet as correct as her analysis of her Captain might have been, she was being strangled, thrown to the side and pressed down into the desktop - Vasser now on top of her. She got no air past the iron fingers that clamped her throat shut, and she feebly clawed and pried at the wrist of the hand that held her down. Her legs were spread around Vasser's torso, bare and smooth limbs thrashing. Only vaguely, she picked up on his words, the commotion t0o loud, but her eyes remained passionless - her actions to get free effective in theory yet useless in practice.

He was mentioning Outpost 49, which had been the catalyst for her investigation upon Captain Vasser, where he had also been able to withstand her mind-meld. She was highly proficient in its usage, her will-power strong, and she had not been able to put the incident aside. Now, as she was on her back, the mere threat of strangulation remained present, yet Vasser was no longer fully choking her after he had gotten the upper hand.

"Yes, Captain," she said in a forced voice where she lay when he asked her to not manipulate him again. What was most important right then was not her actions, but his: what he meant to do now. When he knew. The asphyxiation did something to her body, and without emotion, she wondered if he would be so true to his word that he would seal their accord together, and perhaps even siring a child by her to begin with. He was too vague now, so she needed confirmation. Also, it would be convenient to distract Vasser from the idea of killing her and carrying out their new mission alone.

"So what are your orders," she asked tonelessly, and reached down to open his uniform trousers, "when we rendezvous with the Theurgy?"

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he shrugged. She could respect his view point even if hers was different. Where she came from things where different. They where raised to believe that all things happened for a reason. That life had a master plan. Even if you didn't personally believe in it was the accepted way of looking at things. As they approached zh'Wann she couldn't fight back the butterflys that where fluttering in her stomach. Such a large part of her wanted to remain hidden while the other half wanted it all to be over. To keep from wondering from day to day if this would be when she would make a major mistake.

With in nine words Dyan knew where this was going. It would seem fate had choice the course for her even if it scared the  hell out of her. She wanted to argue that she was in that condition. Hell she had recaptured a killer, oversaw her transport and did security detail in this 'condition'. As much as she worked on hiding it her disapproval shown of her soft pale features. Her expression only soured hearing she was to be disarmed as well. She could almost handle being sent to sickbay but being disarmed was a while different thing. It would take a few moments before she slowly slipped one rifle off  handing it over before the other followed, the two phasers. When zh'Wann had cleared her hands Dyan handed over three stun grenades she had retrieved from the weapons locker on the hunt for that damn woman. That only left one weapon still in her possession. Slowly she pulled out the weapon that had been handed over to her by Selena. "This is an undocumented weapon carried by CWO Ravenholm. I was ordered to process it and return it," she said handing the weapon over feeling odd being without a weapon.

"I will report to Sickbay straight away. Although I would like to state my disagreement on my ability to preform my duties," She said knowing it wouldn't do any good to argue but she still wanted her position to be known. She knew what waited for her. They where going to find out. Her change was too far along now to pass as human. There would be something that told them she wasn't human. Slowly her eyes turned back to the one that had walked with her offering him a soft smile. "I am looking forward to that second drink," she said before slowly turned heading towards the turbolift. She would report to Sickbay but first she had a small side trip.

Quite familiar with frequent discontent at having to report to Sickbay, Ida was not the least surprised at the reaction. Like Fighter Pilots, her people were not the kind to agree to medical treatment without protest, thinking themselves better than needing help. It would seem the security personnel on the Harbinger were no different. Ida was pleased, however, that she would not have to repeat herself or explain the regulation of why someone so obviously injured needed to get a medical check-up.

"I will make sure our Master-At-Arms process the weapon and leaves you a report to give to your Captain," she said as she accepted the civilian weapon hilt-first. It was just clerical work that anyone with the clearance on her staff could do. She spared the handgun a cursory glance. When Petty Officer Cardamone wanted to file her disagreement with her order, Ida had the common sense to not laugh at her, limping around as she had been doing since she arrived. She might have challenged the petty officer to run back and forth the length of the Flight Hangar. She just shot a meaning glance in the direction of that leg and took a deep breath. Indeed, this was not the first time she'd had this conversation with someone. "Duly noted, Pinkskin. Dismissed."

Facing Miles Renard briefly after the Petty Officer left, Ida inclined her head. "Commander," she said cordially as the second turbolift arrived, and she stepped into it. Adjusting the veritable arsenal of weapons she carried, her mind kept returning to the probability of Wenn Cinn actually being who he was, compared to the well known nature of their enemy. Perhaps the parasites could animate dead bodies, tap into their memory engrams in the brain. In that case, Cinn's death had become the perfect cover.

If there were three enemies in her Brig, the passing thought came to her that they needed but one specimen for studies.

For what the parasites did to the planet Niga, and made her do to the crew she wanted to protect, she desired to exact vengeance.

Miles nodded to each of them made their ways off.  He had a bad feeling that their "masked" guest was about to have her cover torn from her.  He headed back to his office quickly as he knew soon he may have to disclose the conversation he had promised her to keep secret.  He only hoped that before reportig to sickbay she had a means of keeping herself concealed of if that wasn't possible at least tell the captain.  At least that way he could do what he could to minimize any possible incident that could occur based on potential discovery of her true self. 

He didn't know why but he was sure the captain would understand why she had the need for her cover.  After all it wasn't like the Federation hadn't done far worse things in the guise of lessening the strains of a first contact.  Yes it was spying but it was obviously spying for the purposes of avoiding incident in a first-contact scenario that much was painfully obvious despite her not wanting to share further info.

"I appreciate it," she said almost reluctantly handing over the last of her weapons.  As Ida cast a meaning glance in the direction of her leg she almost wanted to speak and argue over the fact that it was just a minor flesh wound, but there was sometimes you needed to admit when things where a lost cause. It wasn't until she was in the turbolift that Dyan would allow herself to breathe again. "Deck 7," she said watching the turbolift doors slide closed knowing she had something to take care of first and knew how she was going to do it. She had been planing this for a long time she just didn't think it would be aboard the Theurgy. It seemed just as soon as she left the doors slid open and she was looking at deck 7 that held the sickbay but also her first stop. Walking down the hallway she could feel the weight of what was about to happen resting heavy on her shoulders. Her path to one of the VIP Quarters was quick knowing more then likely the Theurgy would be short on VIP's. Stopping outside the first she quickly accessed the door panel using her security clearance to open the door before she stepped in locking it from the other side.

Slowly approaching the computer she knew she wouldn't have much time. She worked quickly setting up a triaxilating signal sending out over the subspace channel knowing it where detected it would be hard to break. She was careful making sure to hide as much information hidden as she could. The message itself was short but it would be enough to make sure official first contact wasn't made yet. She knew her people where monitoring the band she had spent it out on and they where sure to pick it up. Standing she slowly made her way towards sickbay still feeling her stomach lurching at the realization that it almost all was going to be over soon. Still she had fulfilled her duty. For some reason she didn't understand her footsteps to sickbay where slow.

[Natalie Stark | Deck 01 - Bridge | USS Theurgy]
Natalie stiffened suddenly in the center seat. She had been looking out at the view screen, her jumbled mind needing a brief respite from the rush of information she had been looking over on what she would think of as the Captains status console. It was amazing what kind of information you could call up at the tips of your fingers, there in the command chair. But it was also overwhelming, and Natalie needed that break, even for just a moment, to let it all settled and take root in her mind.

Which was exactly when she felt something reach out and caress her very thoughts. Some alien presence that had her heart beat racing a mile a minute. The last time she had felt anything, anything at all in her mind that wasn't her thoughts was the Niga incident, and the repeat of it that had followed, the forced infection. That overwhelming drive to copulate, to reproduce, an overpowering presence that dominated and supplanted her very thoughts.

This was different, of course, but it was an intrusion, all the same. She paled and her breathing increased rapidly. Get out...getout...GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT she screamed in her mind, but vocally all she managed was a very small squeak at exactly the same time Lt Fedd said "excuse me."

And just like that, it was gone, and she was sagging back into her chair, the panic receding as the presence, the intrusion into her mind vanished. She had no idea, at all, of the (mostly) benevolent drive behind what had just happened. She didn't know who had caused it, just that something had clearly been in her mind (having no realization that her surface thoughts were practically screaming to any telepath on the ship anyways). Fedd;s outstretched hand didn't even register. All the startled Ops officer could do was pray that no one noticed her and wonder, deep inside, if what had happened was real....or if she was starting to finally slip over the abyss.

---

OOC: Leonal - Natalie is a bit high strung at the moment (PTSD anyone?) From what I read, it seemed like she just might be able to feel Fedd taking a peek in her mind this time. Lemme know if the post is a bit much or not

It did not fail to register on Fedd that Natalie Stark had registered his intrusion on her mind. He had not meant to project himself so forcefully, only to try and read... and it was the echoes of her mental scream that he was partially trying to silence with his self-medication. As he idly half-listened for Tovarek to answer the question he had asked to cover his inner turmoil, he reached out more gently this time and attempted to touch Natalie's thoughts.

Rather than shove himself awkwardly in like a telepathic rapist, he extended information first, like passing a note in class or shaking someone's hand. There was a huge difference between trying to contact his commanding officer in the middle of a heated, hostile situation, and contacting someone who was already receptive when he was at rest.

Natalie... Natalie, it's Sjaandin Fedd... I am sorry if I frightened you.

His head remained slightly tilted in Tovarek's direction, perpetrating the charade that he was merely sitting casually at his duty station, awaiting the science officer's answer to his casual banter.

---

OOC: No problem at all, Brutus. Feel free to have Natalie not hear Fedd's query, or misinterpret it, or whatever.

[Simon Tovarek| Bridge]

Tovarek looked up from his station now as Sjaandin made his way to the medkit. He wondered why he didn't just go to sickbay to get it patched up more decently than he could do so himself. Yet he soon made the math to himself that during a crisis like this, running away from your station would be unforgiving. Darwin's law would always strike when you least expect it. While getting more intel from engineering about the most damaged areas, he sent the most critical reports through to his department. Even though his staff was more or less scientists, they weren't afraid to get their hands dirty in engineering. Hell, some of them might try to implement experimental or enhancements while they were at it, yet all of it had to be given a green light by Tovarek and of course Tatiana.

His memory train got halted when Fedd suddenly made a rather awkward move to Natalie and he frowned a bit and parted his lips to say something. Yet words didn't come to his mind. He wasn't sure what he had to say to it, this tactical officer sure was a bit weird. Even weirder than Rennan? It was unlikely that this man could be, during his short stay, Rennan sure had an amazing yet chaotic mind, but Simon had not seen or monitored this Fedd person before.
"Noticed nothing out of the ordinary. If anything blips that isn't supposed to I'll give you a heads up though." He answered with a calm voice and looked at the man once more "You sure you don't need to head to sickbay for that cut?" he asked eventually, wondering if the weird behavior of before wasn't to blame to head trauma.

[Thomas Ravon | Fighter Assault bay]

Scrolling through his PADD the young pilot eventually turned up before the big man that now had the assault deck. "Not much to report, just the usual maintenance to the bird. Not much damage or ash in the engines since we only took off late and the armaments should still be good." He reported to the Sten. His eyes glanced over to the badly damaged reaver now and he bit his lip "Say, chief... Could you keep me in the loop what will happen to that Reaver? I'm dying to get my hands on it and if it's okay with you I'd like to see if I can help out with the cubs how we can get that thing back into flight..." He smirked now and winked "Also, don't let Rawley near that bird again or I'm sure we'll never hear the end of it..." With a humble nod Thomas returned to the rest of his bunch that were walking to hit the showers. Below decks sounded like a fine place to go to after that...

[Natalie Stark | Deck 01 - Bridge | USS Theurgy]
Sure enough, no one had seen Natalie's physical reaction - the way she froze up - but someone had seen Fedd's. Lt (jg) Tovarek's voice, and his even toned query carried down across the bridge, prompting a few eyes to dart back towards the aft sections, where the two junior lieutenants seemed to be having a conference. Swallowing, and pale in the face, Natalie zipped up the open collar of her shirt and forced herself to watch the conversation. Suddenly, even that open collar left her feeling naked and raw, after what had just occurred in her mind.

So it was with some trepidation that she felt, as much as heard, the words in her mind. They were like a caress, as opposed to the probing that had occurred moments before, but they still startled her, and still caused her fingers to curl into the armrests of the center seat. Her breath still caught in her throat as she silently studied the acting Chief Science and Tactical officer's. Her mind, however, was racing about as fast as her thoughts.

Sjaandin Fedd she managed to bring up what little she knew about the man by focusing on his name, if not his words. Betazoid... she swallowed, realizing that there was every chance that the voice in her head was actually Fedd's. She blinked, and then frowned, visibly, looking at the tactical officer. There was no mistaking the sudden flash of anger on her features, but the bridge crews focus was not on the woman in the center chair, thankfully. The panic from before was being swiftly replaced by anger, hot, boiling, and truly uncharacteristic anger. Then again, Natalie had been through a lot lately - they all had. She had plenty to be afraid of, plenty of ghosts to haunt her dreams, and plenty to be angry about. And the brunette's control, the control she'd tried so hard to keep in place on duty, was starting to crack.

I don't care how sorry you are she distinctly thought, trying to summon up the tone of 'voice' that Hendricks would use with irresponsible junior techs, back before all of this had gone to hell and he'd died. Get the Hell out of my head. NOW

Fedd's eyebrows moved closer together, two thin lines appearing on his otherwise smooth forehead. Why was Simon so concerned with his health? "I'm fine, r--" He winced and leaned forward a bit as Natalie Stark essentially screamed into his head. Well, now he looked like a liar. Touchy, he thought back to Stark, withdrawing from the periphery of her psyche. You get out of mine then. He decided to leave well enough alone. She was in command right now, and it wouldn't do to go bothering her even if she was overreacting a bit. He turned his attentions to soothing Tovarek's concerns

"Really, it isn't anything to worry about. Nothing a dermal regenerator couldn't fix. If you're half as concerned about your readouts as you evidently are for my health, then the ship is in good hands."

It had come out sounding more snappish than Sjaandin intended, but oh well. Tovarek wanted to pry, he could risk the consequences. Instead, he tried a different tack. "So you think I'm weird?" He grinned placidly and tapped his temple. "Betazoid, remember. You think to yourself that I'm weird, and I hear it. I am not angry. Most of my race can filter those sorts of idle musings out, but I, sadly, do not have that option."

Of all the nerve! she thought, indignant. She didn't even want to possibly know what thoughts the betazoid man was having of her in his head, because she certainly hadn't tried to go prying around in there univinted. Never mind the fact that she had absolutely no idea what he really meant, her mental state wasn't exactly a kind one at that point, to herself, or to one Sjaandin Fedd. There was a strong sense of indignation and borderline rage that visibly rippled across Natalies face for a moment, sending her pale complexion to something just short of the shade of a tomato.

Catching his small explanation to Simon about his fliter being broke, well, it took a bit of the heat out of her skin, but not the anger out of her gut. That seemed to just settle right in, just behind her stomach. Her arms were now crossed under her breasts, and she was tapping her foot against the floor. All eyes were on the duo in the aft section, and not on their consoles. Swallowing, and trying to keep her tone even, she interrupted the two officers.

"Gentlemen," she said, cutting off Tovarek mid reply, "lets cut the banter, shall we? Lt. Fedd, if all you need is a patch job, hup to it. Lt. Tovarek, eyes on those monitors." She addressed the rest of the bridge, "in fact, that last bit goes for all of you. Snap to it."  For someone so usually mild and quiet, her tone brokered no argument, and certainly had Ens. Winterbourne's pale eyebrows shooting right up his forehead. "Yes ma'am," he said from the helm, setting the tone for the other bridge officers, a round of follow up "aye aye's," echoing like a precise chorus across the bridge.

With a sharp look across the whole room, Natalie turned her attention back to the view screen, trying to ease herself into the chair. She was too angry to be nervous at the moment, so at least that was something.

---

ooc: hope I didn't steamroll anyone there. Lemme know and I can backtrack as needed - Bru

Tovarek was simply being concerned since the last guy on the tactical station had died without any clear signs of injury. Who knew what could happen thanks to a simple cut. Sepsis due to bacteria on the monitors, small arteries or veins that could be severed causing bleeding within the hand that could obstruct the movement of the hand. Allergic reactions perhaps to dermal generators? Though that would be unlikely since the man was still talking to him...
The chaos in the head of Tovarek was pretty much at full speed now as he smiled at the man and shook his head "Oh a beta-" the sentence got cut off by Natalie who now raised her voice. 'Zoid, that explains... Don't mind my thoughts at all though, you might end up in an asylum if you try to keep up.' He thought further, wondering if Fedd could hear him. This however was promising, he could just shout out thoughts to Fedd which would reduce the time lost by actually voicing out all of his concerns or suggestions.

"Aye aye, ma'am." Was all that came out of Tovarek's lips now as Natalie had given him the instruction to keep his eyes on the monitors. All readings were still normal and he started to put his focus back on helping out the engineering department.

She walked along side her captain paused as she looked up at her offering him a small but weak smile. They had lost so many. So many who didn't make it off that god forsaken planet. Moral was going to be shit for a while. Everyone loss someone. She had loss her Lisa. Now they had to deal with an unknown shuttle and a seemingly unknown that had crippled the fleet that tried to kill them. Even through this though those pleasant memories of the night before had made the bitter seem just a shade sweeter. "You're welcome Captain," Cam spoke softly the pain of loss still laying heavy. "I wish there was something we could have done for him," It would be almost impossible to save any piece of Sarresh Morali. Another crippling blow to crew moral.

Looking up at her she could see the heaviness that had been there before. The heaviness she wished to take from her. Still how could she form her when it lay so heavy on her shoulders. Nodding her head Cam continued mentally noting everything that needed to be done even if for the moment it felt like going through the motions. "Yes, ma'am," she said watching her captain leave before she would find herself standing alone. Her mind telling her she needed to go to her office clean up and be ready to assist the captain. Still her feet refused to move.

Looking back she noticed the white haired security officer and Miles heading towards his office. Odd how one noticed small things. Slowly she turned heading back to the turbolift knowing she needed to get cleaned first. It would not be as wonderful as the last shower but it would still feel good to try and get everything off of her. Stepping in she leaned back against the turbolift wall. "Deck five," she spoke softly as the door slid closed. It was that quite time alone her thoughts seemed so much louder. Loss, desire, duty, pain all flooded her mind. When the doors slid open she quickly made her way to her quarters having not had a chance to even unpack her stuff. Only enough time to drop her bags before leaving. Stepping in she didn't bother checking that her bags where still there. Heading towards the bathroom she shed her clothing along the way before stepping into the shower.

Turning on the water she let it hit her small lean body as she allowed everything to hit her at once. A few tears rolled down her cheeks. She lost her Lisa. Everyone that had died. Everything hit her hard as she the hot water washed over her body. Once the first tear fell more would come in rapid succession. Slowly Cam sunk to her knees as she tried to force the pain that had been building out.

Miles Returned to the Fighter bay and sighed looking around at the controlled chaos that Sten had orchestrated.  The pulse pounding meats of Terran rock seemed to only accelerate the pace of the workers in the bay as Miles headed over towards the chief. "Excellent choice of auditory motivation as always, Zero."  Miles quipped as he glanced at the work requests.  "I see Ravon already put in a request to be put on a repair team on the captured Reaver as has Rawley."  he sighed, "Given their wanting to make some kind of war spoils claim I feel the only way to currently solve this is to give the bird a designation and a current pilot before further claims are made.  PapaBear, She's your fighter until re-designation."

He then continued as he sighed a bit explaining further, "That said I do think the two claimants do have a fairly stated vested interest in it so I would like to request you assign the both of them to be the primary technicians regarding repairs to your new fighter.  I have full confidence that the two are competent at repairs and given competent direction the two will make excellent repair techs for our squadron's newest acquisition.   Keep in mind that I do not intend to keep this fighter as yours obviously though I have yet to decide what its role in our squadron will be or who will be its pilot.  As I imagine you would like to study its specs Since its designated as your Fighter it will be fully within your authority to do whatever you feel is necessary.  I doubt the two will enjoy the prospect of being forced to work together on a ship they both want to claim as their personal trophy.  Still Rawley is the only person with actual flight experience in the damned thing and Ravon does have re a fair claim that he should'a been the one in its cockpit instead of her.  It would be unfair to keep him out of the repair loop on it.  Besides its fitting that he has to repair it since he guy who put that hole in it."

"Unless you Have any objections I will be on my way to Below Decks to inform Both Rawley and Ravon of their new duties starting tomorrow.  Hell I needed to find something for them to do while us Wolves have our boots glued to the deck.  Besides High Priority R&D assignment.  Surely Lucan wont deny my request to have Rawley released from medical leave officially when she is needed for that kind of assignment."  he said looking around a bit hearing the music starting to wind down as it ended. 

Fedd bristled at Stark's treatment of him and Tovarek. It felt like he was just beginning to make some kind of connection when she shut them down like a schoolteacher. What is she trying to prove-- he thought to himself, before cutting it short when he realized she might still be able to hear him. He shook his head to clear his mind and focused on the task at hand, only to be interrupted by Simon now telepathically trying to banter with him. He also heard some snippets of the man musing about this wonderfully efficient new method of communication he had discovered, and inwardly groaned. Last thing he needed was the CSO babbling whatever bright ideas he had into his consciousness. Ah, here he was being negative again. He should be thankful that the man was not offended by Fedd's brusque tone.

Projecting thoughts to another is actually more difficult, he thought to Simon, unless they're already listening. So if I'm fairly quiet please don't mistake my silence for rudeness. Sjaandin had no desire to anger any other bridge officers today. He did, however, continue running passive sweeps of the surrounding space, the astronomical equivalent of sleeping with one eye open. If the Calamity or a Klingon patrol showed up he did not want it getting the drop on them.

While doing that, he also tapped out a brief message to the ship's counselor, outlining his situation re: mental filters, and politely requesting a session at their earliest convenience. In all his attentiveness to his work, he failed to notice he had completely forgotten to acknowledge Natalie's order.

[USS Theurgy fighter bay - CWO Sten Covington]

Sten Covington was starting to get busy opening up one of the Mk III Valkyries when he was approached by his SCO. A faint smile touched the human's lips when his superior approached and commented on his choice of music. "I am to please, Skidmarks, I aim to please."

The privacy afforded by the dissemination of personnel and the noise of the work was the reason Covington referred to Renard by the nickname he had given him during the early test phases of the Mark III program. Granted  a few others knew of it, as scraping the entire length of a hangar deck with the landing legs of a fighter under full thrusters tended to be noticeable. But anyone caught speaking it who was not Sten Convington or a close personal friend involved in that incident was typically explained the error of their way in no uncertain terms.

When the officer began addressing some of the work orders, Sten straightened and turned to his superior, wiping grimy hands on a rag he had tucked into his toolbelt. So, that nightmare fighter sitting at the far end of the hangar in an enclosure of barrier tape was to be put back into space? So be it. As for the work assignments, the Chief scratched his chin for a moment, considering the request, and then spoke.

"Boss, I can see how this thing can be of use, but right now I have a dozen of our fighters and eight from the Harbinger that need their impulse drives and thrusters pulled out, taken apart and cleaned out from that volcanic gunk. And that's just to make sure they're spaceworthy and won't get incinerated when the exhaust vents give out from over-pressure, never mind the maintenance to tactical systems and sorting out the hull ablation issues that need looking into to to be combat-ready."

Those words were spoken quietly but with a confidence born of forty years of experience working with auxiliary craft and nearly half of those four decades spent with fighters. And the man had literally written the book on Valkyrie maintenance requirements, taking the designing engineers' nominal tolerances and further tightening them in order to ensure each and every fighter would be a finely tuned weapons platform that a skilled operator would be able to extract every last picogram of its designed performance from. And Sten would never allow any cutting of any corners. Not with the fighters in his bay, the lives of their pilots or the success of their mission.

"So in the immediate, I need Rawley and Ravon, all the pilots really, to do the grunt work on their Valkyries so my Cubs can focus on things your guys can't do. With the luck we've been having, we need our fighters back into space soonest. And I can't do that it I'm crawling all over that thing or I need to have some of my techs burning man-hours they don't absolutely have to cleaning engine parts. And that leads me to something else."

Sten took a deep breath before leaning back against the fighter. "Kilinvoss and his pilots. I need them in here. I could spare four warm bodies to work on their birds, but without extra hands, I'll be lucky to have two of their birds spaceworthy by the end of tomorrow's work. I just don't have enough people, Boss."

Yet, the old man wasn't done. "And in the interest of working faster, think you can get Engineering to kick me a team from Hull and Structure? If I can have these guys crawl around to fix up my flight deck and do the structural assessment, it'll shave some time until I can start launching birds again and start working on our little project."

He nodded, "Of course, I as merely meaning to give them the news that after the Valks and your deck were repaired that would be their new assignment.  It might motivate them to double time it on the repairs and then contribute everything they can into helping out with wherever they are needed.  Getting to work on a project you want to work on can be quite the motivator after all."

Saying that he moved onto the other requests.  "I'll talk to Phantom, I was gonna head to below decks and give my pilots a bit of an informal debriefing and since he's down there i'll relay your request.  Anything to get that psychopath SCO of theirs out of our bay the better."  he said for the first time tellign someone what he really thought of The SCO from the Habinger.  The man's coldness the dark chill in his voice everything about Phanom made miles feel uneasy.  He didnt know what it was but for some reason Miles could just sense that this man lived for blood.  More than once had the man tried to fick a fight with Miles.  TO miles it was clear, Phantom wasn't a soldier to protect or defend; no this man lived for the blood on his hands.  He desired the kill not the defeat.  This man was a murder given license to kill.

Finally miles turned to the other request adding simply as he was already beginning to walk away witha bit of speed a sure signal that if there was any further argumeent over how things woudl progress it woudl have to be settled at a later time, "I'll see what I can do about getting you some additional manpower by the way.  Surely there are a few engineers that can be spared from cloak babysitting duty to work for real.  I'll get to work on the Paperwork request for you soon as I get back in my office.  Top priority I promise," the last few words sort of yelled back as he headed out the door again.

[Declan Vasser - Harbinger, XO Ready Room]

"When we meet with the Theurgy," Declan began, "we are to proceed as we already have been.  The . . . ideas you have about what we should be doing are not something one accomplishes overnight.  It would be far better to go about such things covertly, don't you think?"

T'rena was talking about a hostile takeover, for the good of the Federation, but such a thing wouldn't get put down quickly if it were attempted in the open.  Vasser wouldn't have put it past Ives to self-destruct his ship before letting it be taken.  After all, if they came at him aggressively, he would simply suspect that Vasser was compromised, and Theurgy was better off destroyed then controlled by him.  This was not the kind of job one took without careful consideration and thought.

"If I might speak your language for a moment, T'rena, it would be illogical to show ones cards in the middle of a hand.  Besides, just because your little trick didn't work on me a moment ago doesn't mean there aren't some people who wouldn't be so resistant to . . . seeing things your way."

T'Rena heard her Captain speak, his fingers still hard around her throat. Her own fingers had produced his human reproductive organ from his trousers, and yet it seemed she could not make him waver - eyes unblinking as he looked down upon her. Her face may be impassive, her eyes blank from emotion, yet deep down there might have been a wispy ghost of fear. In vain, she tried to distract him, yet his words soon ceased to be vague, and directly suggested what she might do to aid him. To aid the survival of the Federation.

"Yes, Captain," she said, her thoughts running like wildfire through her, picking out her targets for her mind-meld already. Most viable targets. Most effective order. Key positions. Which departments to overtake first. It would be a gradual process. Hidden, until it was too late for Captain Ives and his foolish followers. The hostile takeover would have been accomplished before anyone realised it.

"It would be adequate," she said, swallowing against his grip, "that you impregnate me now. Or at least... give me your seed, so that I can prepare for what's to come."

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and with her grip, she guided him towards her - the fickle flames of lust fanned by his grip and his dominating presence, even if none showed in her scarred face. And finally, just when she thought he would kill her instead... he acquiesced to her request.

Soon, their undulating bodies were lit by the meditation lamp - their carnal accord sealed in earnest.

- Fin