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((Lieutenant Eriss' personal quarters - USS Victory)) ::Despite his intention to visit the Lieutenant directly after finishing up in Damage Control Central, Michael had ended up going back his own quarters and sleeping for the best part of ten hours. He did eventually visit the Lieutenant once he had showered and put on a fresh uniform and was invited to sit across from the Andorian in the living area of her small quarters as she finished off breakfast.:: Eriss: Congratulations on the promotion Petty Officer. Jellico: Thanks ::Michael was still surprised at the increase in his rating. After being demoted and spending such a long time as a PO3, he'd come to accept that promotions wouldn't be in his future.:: Lieutenant Shedet must have been really desperate. ::Talisa considered telling the Petty Officer not to talk about another Lieutenant in such a casual fashion, but as it was just the two of them in the room, she decided to let the comment slide.:: Eriss: I've gone through your report. Did you want to discuss it in greater detail? ::She reached for the PADD.:: Jellico: That’s not why I'm here Lieutenant. ::He paused for only a brief moment.:: I'd like your permission to transfer department. ::Talisa’s antenna twitched and she fought an urge to roll her eyes.:: Eriss: o0 Are we really doing this dance again? 0o Do I need to apologize for something again Mr. Jellico? ::Michael actually chuckled at that.:: Jellico: No Lieutenant. You asked me to come join your department for a mission because you were short staffed and I did, but I'm not a good tactical officer. I'm Engineer. Eriss: And your arm? ::Talisa said it cautiously. During their first encounter Talisa had inadvertently insulted the Petty Officer, three times, when trying to explain that an amputation was not the end of a career.:: Jellico: My arm’s getting there. ::He flexed the fingers of the biosynthetic arm to demonstrate.:: I still don’t have complete motor function but with therapy… ::He shrugged his shoulders. He hated his physiotherapy, it seemed to him that he sweated for two hours each day for minimal result but he didn’t want to elaborate.:: ::Talisa thought about it for a moment before nodding.:: Eriss: Okay Mr. Jellico. If you want to go to back to Enginnering I’ll give it my approval and send it upstairs to the XO. Jellico: Thank you Ma’am. ::Michael said giving the Andorian the courtesy he usually reserved for higher ranking officers.:: Eriss: No problem. ::Talisa said as the Petty Officer stood in preparation to leave.:: Eriss: o0 I was planning on visiting Ensign Peters anyway. 0o =/\= Lieutenant Junior Grade Talisa zh’Eriss Chief Tactical Officer USS Victory & (PNCP) Petty Officer 1st Class Michael Jellico Gunner’s Mate USS Victory

((StarBase 118, Habitat Area, Temporary Quarters, 1 hour ago)) ::Ry’van Alstred admired himself in the mirror while he fastened a silvery skintight vest to his torso. The cosmetic surgeon who had altered his appearance had done quite a fantastic job. He looked every inch the perfect specimen of an Arkarian merchant, even down to the pinkish flush in his cheeks. Once the vest was in place, he picked up a tricorder, scanning the flexible circuitry embedded into the garment, making sure that everything was in good working order. It was a simple device, really. Simple enough to evade all but the most focused and invasive of scans. Just a signal enhancer, one that was strong enough to ensure a transporter beam could reach out and pluck him off the StarBase even through the storm. Because unlike the majority of the cattle grazing about on the civilian sections of StarBase 118, Ry’van was acutely aware of what was about to hit the station, and what the Cerberas was carrying. Should that bomb go off, he was going to make sure that he was far away from this station as possible.:: Message Screen: ::Green text, harsh and glaring:: Are you coming? Alstred: ::he narrowed his eyes at the message and spat into the darkness:: I’m on time, you slave driver. ::If his contact wasn’t working for the same noble goal as he was, he would have tried to eliminate him years ago.:: ::He tugged his brown tunic over the specialized undergarment and pulled on a thick blue coat, checking all of his supplies before finally slipping on his boots. Checking the chronometer, he grabbed his merchant’s satchel and headed out the door with a deliberate quickness to his pace. He pushed through the milling crowds headed for the commercial sector, all of them blindly oblivious to what was about to come knocking on their doorstep. Oblivious was the best way Ry’van could describe the average Federation citizen. It was like they all had blinders on, and all they could see was what was directly in front of them. His own people had believed this about the Federation in general and Terrans in particular for generations. But it took a disaster to prove that the Federation only offered aid for what it thought was important, rather than listening for actual need. And with Ry’van’s beloved homeland spiraling towards oblivion, the Federation was all too eager to step forward and expand their own borders at the expense of the Romulan people. And so Ry’van Alstred decided to join the cause of bringing oblivion to the oblivious. He swallowed back the bitter taste of bile as he slipped past a group of tourists talking about holosuite adventures and a set of Starfleet officers whining about their leave being cut back a day. Such terrible troubles that the Federation was burdened with. Such sorrows. Well, today they would get a little taste of sorrow, though not nearly enough to rival what he had already gone though. Even if their plans worked perfectly and the Cerberas ended up taking out a major section of this massive edifice that stood as a symbol of Starfleet superiority, it wouldn’t begin to match the suffering Ry’van had seen and endured. His contact was leaning against a post outside a jumja shop, a place where plenty of people, civilian and Starfleet alike were milling about either buying the sweet treats or waiting for others to buy them. He kept his head down, gesturing for Ry’van to follow:: Contact: Are you ready? Alstred: Would I be here if I wasn’t ready? Contact: Meet me in the Engineering section, Deck 1313, subsection 6. ::He pressed a PADD into Ry’van’s hand:: If you need clearances they’re on there. But I suspect most of the checkpoints will be distracted. Alstred: Yes, I expect. Unless we’re lucky. Contact: Never bet on luck. Alstred. I admit, watching this space station blow from a nearby vantage point would be incredibly satisfying. But I am betting that Starfleet will mobilize and figure out some way to save everyone just in the nick of time. This seems to be their overall modus operandi. Contact: I know. Frustrating, isn’t it. ::he offered a light smile, which was jarring for his Vulcanoid features and tidy Starfleet uniform.:: Alstred: Yes. ::he nodded, moving away from his contact. As much as he disliked the man, he also admired him. For a Romulan undercover agent to so cleanly insert himself into Starfleet and work under scrutiny was not so odd twenty years ago. But now with resources so thin and most of their people so scattered, it was quite the accomplishment:: Ehlu'eri Merht Ehtea'akhe ::he whispered the Romulan words of the call sign Contact: Diamn hiullhull. ::’sacrifice always. The Romulan response.:: ::Both men gave a nod of respect to one another and parted, just two strangers in the crowd. Ry’van Alstred headed to a secure location, quietly bracing himself for impact and savoring the cries of fear and confusion as the Cerberas smashed into the nerve center of Starbase 118:: Alstred: oO Serves you right, Federation scum. You can wallow in your sloth for only so long. The Resiliency is waiting for you. Oo ::Still, there was no time to waste. The Romulan undercover agent made his way through the habitat and mercantile levels, dodging guards and well intentioned officers trying to herd civilians to safety. Despite his bold words, he was glad for the codes his contact had provided. They allowed him to access areas that were off limits to civilians, and to slip into an un-patrolled route down to the computer core deep in the Engineering section:: ((StarBase 118, deck 1313, subsection 6)) ::His contact was already there, glaring down from his polished black hair and dark devilish countenance:: Contact: You brought the data rods? Alstred: I did. ::He looked up at the multiple alarms wailing:: How distracted are they? Contact: Enough. ::he folded his arms across his chest:: We got lucky. A piece of the Cerberas embedded into the Starbase’s special ops tower, including an un-detonated torpedo. They’re trying to tow the freighter away, but now they have a second explosive to deal with. ::There was a smug river of humor flowing through the Vulcan-sounding voice.:: You should have all the time you need. ::He offered a box over:: Alstred: ::opening the box carefully, checking the wealth of isolinear rods, access chips and other Starfleet goodies inside:: I suspect you’re leaving me to my work? Contact: Of course. I have a duty to perform. Starfleet might get suspicious if I do not report within the next few minutes. Alstred: Have fun milling with the cattle. ::His contact turned and offered only a nod in response as Ry’van Alstred cracked open an access panel and started to get to work. With the StarBase falling into chaos around him, he had one job to focus on – getting as deep into Starbase 118’s computer and siphoning as much information out of it as he could before someone was alerted. He was good at his work, and if this was an independent space station he was sure he could crack civilian security, gut the computer core and walk out with all the information he pleased. But this was Starfleet, with multiple layers of security protocols, back ups and encryptions. The question wasn’t if he would get caught, but when. And his job was to get as much as he could before the station either found out or blew up. He cracked his knuckles and began.:: ~*~ ((Starbase 118 – Control Room)) ::It was some time later, deep into the crisis, when emotions were already high, stakes were raised, and the situation had become painfully complex. The alert was just one more flash on a panel that was flashing in so many places that it looked like a rock concert run by a lighting designer on speed, whose favorite color was ‘red alert red’ But the warning was clear nonetheless: Security alert in the computer core, deck 1313…:: ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ MSNPC Ry’van Alstred Arkarian Merchant (Romulan terrorist) And NPC “Unknown Contact” Not a Starfleet officer, Not a Vulcan Not StarBase 118 Simmed by: Lt. Commander Sal Taybrim

(( Bridge- USS Thunder )) :: Finally leaving Sick Bay behind, then stopping in his quarters for a fresh uniform, Hannibal came onto the bridge. The site where Hendon and company had put him back together still itched, and the knitted together muscle was still a little stiff...but in a few days, all that would be gone. Making eye contact with his friend Colonel Waltas, Hannibal approached the command deck..although Tyr did not seem pleased about something…:: Waltas: Relinquishing command. Sir. :: There was a seriousness to Tyr’s tone, one Hannibal recognised..almost the same tone he used when he took command of the Marines. Hannibals’ shields instantly went up..inclining his head towards the Ready Room, Hannibal spoke..:: Parker: Let’s talk in the ready room…. Waltas: If it’s all the same, sir. I need some sleep. Excuse me. ::Without waiting for a response, Tyr left the bridge.:: :: Hannibal watched his friend go, but he knew something was bothering him...and eating him up inside. Watching as the distorted warp field streaked by, Hannibal turned over and over in his mind just what the hell was going on. The Gamma Shift Commander was manning Ops, and deep into the ships’ night, Hannibal needed an answer to the only question rounding in his mind..and he replayed the conversation he had with Tyr right before he and Kamela set out to retrieve Captain Turner and the rest. It took him awhile to figure it out, and when he did, the realization hit him like a thunderclap. Thinking that Tyr may be stewing in his quarters, Hannibal asked the computer where Tyr was..to his surprise, he computer told him he was in the holodeck. Turning over command to the the Gamma watch commander, Hannibal went down to talk to his friend…:: ((Later, Holodeck)) ::Sleep had eluded him, and the Ba’ku found himself programming the holodeck at 0300. He was surrounded. The deck, as it had been scanned from Thunder, of the smuggling asteroid stretched out before him. Brawls between holographic characters had broken out all around him, but five of the largest thugs were approaching him all at once. Tyr was armed only with his trusted katana, and his wits. The blade gleamed even in the weak holographic light. shining like a star. Three of the thugs, a Nausican and two Klingons, charged him at the same time. He stepped into the the closest attacker’s strike, grabbed the outstretched arm, and slammed his palm into the elbow, hearing a distinct crack. The man screamed in pain and dropped. The other klingon was on him but quickly met the business end of the katana, the blade embedding itself deep into his gut. He staggered backward as the Nausican attacked, grabbing the Ba’ku from behind. Tyr slammed his boot into the toes of the Nausican, snapped his head back, which bloodied the Nausican’s already-gruesome face, and neatly spun out of the grip. Ripping the katana from the gut of the dying Klingon, he tore a vicious gash down the Nausican’s chest, then reversed his strike and lopped off a leg. A final thrust embedded the blade in the Nausican’s heart.:: ::Pulling the blade, Tyr spun to face his other two opponents, two Ferengi. The first Ferengi screamed a squealing war cry and pounced, only to meet the boot of the Colonel. He collapsed to the ground, his windpipe crushed. The final Ferengi took a look at the carnage, and retreated into the shadows. Tyr wiped his blade on the Nausican’s clothes and returned it to the scabbard on his back, turning as he heard the doors opened. The last person he wanted to see walked in.:: :: Hannibal made his way into the holodeck, and was surprised to see the place he had left not too long ago...the hangar bay on the asteroid..same dim lighting, the chaos of the brawl..and the figure of Tyr Waltas, armed with his kitana facing the hordes. Walking up to the Colonel, Hannibal spoke..:: Parker: What’s on your mind, Colonel? ::The Ferengi who had retreated was creeping out of the shadows, using the distraction. He held a vicious, jagged knife in a stabbing motion.:: Waltas: A lot of things, Parker. I’m here because I wanted to see if there was any justification for what you did. PARKER: What the hell are you talking about? ::The Ferengi crept closer. Tyr continued to face Parker.:: WALTAS: I was seeing if I lost a step. If somehow I’ve lost my fighting form. Or, better yet, if you could handle the situation on the smuggling asteroid better than I could have. :: Hannibal shook his head. Tyr was a man he knew he could count on, and after the brawl they had, Tyr had more than proven himself to be more than able to handle himself…:: PARKER: Come on, Tyr…. ::The Ferengi was nearly within striking distance. He raised the knife to Tyr’s back, ready to stab him through the heart. Tyr’s eyes darted to his periphery, showing Hannibal he knew he was there.:: WALTAS: Know what I found out? PARKER: What’s that, Colonel? ::Tyr spun so quickly that he was a blur of white steel, brown hair and green uniform. The katana sang when it was drawn from its scabbard and in one motion, severed the Ferengi’s head from his shoulders. It fell to the floor with a sickening plop and rolled to Parker’s feet. Tyr re-sheathed his blade and walked up to Parker until the two men were nose-to-nose. He placed his foot on the Ferengi’s head.:: WALTAS: I’m not the one with the problem. :: Now nose to nose and almost eye to eye, the two men looked at each other, anger flashing in both mens’ eyes…:: PARKER: Allright Tyr...spit it out…… WALTAS: I spent the last 9 months trying to forget about being in command. To turn my mind and heart into a Marine. To lead the charge and be the tip of the spear. And when the moment finally comes that I should get to do that, you leave me sitting in the command chair and go galavanting off on your own. You know [...] well I should have been your FIRST pick, and you didn’t even put me on the team. PARKER: Tyr...I needed someone...someone experienced...who could do what needed to be done in case we were unsuccessful. Kamela and I had done this before, and I thought we have the better chance to pull it off successfully. I knew you could make the right decisions commanding the Thunder… :: This slowed Tyr not one bit..and in fact, only seemed to ratchet up the heat even more….:: WALTAS::Shaking his head:: I KNOW I can command the ship, but that’s not my job anymore, Parker. And it took me a VERY long time to get used to that. But you denied me my chance to prove it. ::Sighing, he took his foot off the Ferengi’s head and kicked it away in frustration:: But since you put me in command, let me speak to you as a Commanding Officer and a Captain who’s served in that capacity a long, long time.. You. Were. Out. Of. Line. :: Hannibal bit his lip, and he could feel the minor annoyance at Tyr’s attitude turning into a full-blown boil. Narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders, Hannibal spoke through gritted teeth…:: PARKER: You are way over the line, Colonel, and you know [...] well you are DEAD WRONG about your assumption.Just who in hell do you think you are COLONEL? WALTAS::Voice rising slightly:: No it IS the truth, and I’m [...] sure qualified to tell you that. You were in command. Captain Turner was gone, which means YOU are the commanding officer. And instead of letting your people do their jobs, including ME, you went screaming into hell’s maw with only your pregnant wife and our Security Chief as backup. Did it ever occur to you that the crew needed you ON THE BRIDGE? That they had just LOST a commanding officer and could have lost ANOTHER one? Or were you just interested in rushing in where angels fear to tread, and being the hero one more time? :: Hannibal had just about had enough. Friend or not, Tyr was on the verge of being the recipient of a right cross at point blank range...something which would make him back off..or shut up. Hannibal balled up his fist, and prepared to deliver what Tyr was asking for…:: PARKER: You son of a bic……. ::He knew he’d pushed Parker’s temper to the limit, but he had to get his point across. He stood toe-to-toe with him, refusing to budge, refusing to back up. He was in the right, and Parker had to learn this or his future was in jeopardy, as well as the crew. When he spoke again, his words were measured, his voice returning to an even tone.:: WALTAS: Part of being in command is giving up a part of yourself that you may not be ready to give up. But you have to, for the crew’s sake. You can’t simply risk yourself like you could previously, because if you die or are captured, it’s not just you that suffers. The entire crew does. Possibly all of Starfleet does. Wars have been started because the right people weren’t in command at the right time, Hannibal. And whether you want to hear it or not, whether you believe it or not, on this mission your place was ON THE BRIDGE. *MY* place was on that asteroid. :: In that microsecond, shaking with rage, Hannibal knew what his friend and former starship commander was saying to him...Tyr was right…his duty was to the ship and her crew, not roaring off to do what he had always done...but, the brutal realization was...it was no longer his job. His anger melted. He should have known better...after all, he was the son of two starship commanders. In fact, deep within him, he knew this day would come, and he had no idea how he would handle it, and in his first time out, he bungled it. Hannibal had never failed to complete an order, come back from a mission..but this...this was something else. Hanibal looked away slightly, not wanting Tyr to see the realization in his eyes. He turned away from him, and walked a short distance away, before turning back to look at his bringer of truth..:: PARKER: Tyr...I’ve lived my life being the one...doing whatever it was the Marines, Starfleet, or SFI tasked me to do. The more I did it, the more people knew I could get it done. You were right, Tyr. As much as I hate to admit it. My place was on the bridge. I have to let the people under my command do their jobs, and that includes you. From here on out you long haired penguin [...], you better keep reminding me of my place..::smiling:: Thank you…:: Walking back over to Tyr, Hannibal extended his hand. the two shook at the wrists, as warriors…:: WALTAS: I’ll keep you in line as long as you keep me out of that chair, shellback. ::Scratching his chin:: The more I do it, the more I miss it. PARKER: I’ll do my best to not make that mistake again...and Kamela would appreciate that too, I’m sure…. WALTAS::Non-chalantly:: Yeah, if you still couldn’t get it through your thick head what I was trying to say my next speech would have been the “you’re about to become a father and have an obligation to your family” speech. :: Looking around at the carnage in the holodeck, Hannibal had a twinkle in his eye..:: PARKER: Wanna practice killing some bad guys? I’m sure we’ll be back to that place eventually…. WALTAS: If Starfleet doesn’t destroy it first. We signalled them on the way out. Still, can’t hurt to get in some practice. ::Drawing his katana again:: Computer, reset. ::The bodies disappeared and then reappeared, looking nastier than ever. The two stood back to back, each picking their first target and what method they would use to dispatch them.:: :: Hannibal drew his Bowie knife, and picked out a Klingon..:: WALTAS::Stalking the Nausican:: So what was Kamela upset with you about? PARKER:: Clashing blades with the Klingon, then shoving him backward:: She thought I had slept with T’Lea... WALTAS::The answer shocked him so much he nearly missed his swing at the Nausican. It connected with his shoulder and sent him snarling to the floor in pain:: What?! PARKER: :: Parrying the Klingons’ advance before drawing his blade across his throat:: We got drunk, very drunk the night before their wedding... WALTAS::Jamming the blade into the Nausican’s chest, he turned:: Can’t say I blame her. And the bride-to-be would’ve killed you too. PARKER:: Head-butting another Nausicaan:: Yeah, it could have gotten rather serious… :: Avoiding a wild swing, Hannibal buried his blade in the armpit of his newest attacker..:: WALTAS::Locking blades with the other Klingon, he slid the katana into the gap between the bat’leth blades and wrenched the weapon from his hands:: So….did you? PARKER: What do you think? I was drunk, not stupid….. WALTAS::Grinning, he decked the Klingon, which only seemed to make him more angry:: Just asking. ::He kicked out at the Klingon’s knee as he charged and a grotesque crunch signalled the destruction of the patella. The Klingon fell dead from another jab from the katana. The two spun to face the Ferengi, who squealed and retreated into the darkness in terror.:: :: The retreat of the Ferengi elicited a hearty laugh from Hannibal, and a smile spread across his face..but their revelry was short lived as the comm came alive…:: Turner: =/\= I hate to bother y'all at this time a night, but something of great importance has come up and I need to meet with y'all... say in about an hour in my Embassy office? =/\= :: The two men looked at each other, duty overtaking their enjoyment. Tapping his commbadge, Hannibal replied..:: PARKER: =/\= Parker here. Acknowledged, Captain…=/\= WALTAS: =/\= I’ll be there, Captain. =/\= :: Hannibal knew they were approaching Duronis, but he didn’t realize they were that close. Sheathing his knife, Hannibal looked to his friend..:: PARKER: Thanks again, penguin…. WALTAS::Nodding:: Better you learn from a friend than when your crew falls apart because there’s no one to lead them. PARKER: I’m pretty stubborn, but between you and Kamela y’all will keep me straight… :: No doubt he would need a reminder or two, but Hannibal would accept his role as First Officer, his days of being the tip of the spear over...but he would always be ready… Tyr walked out with him, and spoke.:: WALTAS: Oh, by the way, how do you feel about being best man? :: That caught Hannibal by surprise..:: PARKER: What the frak!.. ::smiling:: You didn’t...did you? WALTAS: I asked Hella to marry me. Crazy girl actually said yes. PARKER: I’ll be [...]ed! You bet I will. Get ready for one hell of a bachelor party, my friend….:: JP by: Colonel Tyr WaltasMarine CODuronis II Embassy / USS Thunder And: Lt. Commander Hannibal Tiberious ParkerFirst OfficerUSS Thunder-A/ Duronis II Embassy

((Starfleet Morgue, DS26)) ::The hall was appropriately dim. It reeked of bleach and death. A single metal table stood in the center of the hall, illuminated within a cone of white light, surrounded by an audience of cabinets brimming with the dead. A white sheet covered the body. It took forever for him to take three steps towards it.:: The gods know how much he wanted to go back in time, if not to restore the past, to see Raj just one last time. And tell him that not even Time can tear them apart. But all that planning and talking and reuniting was proving to be quite the task for him. Every time he tried to concentrate, to focus on what they were saying, his head would start throbbing and the tics would begin emerging. Following a conversation to its end was now a herculean task. Never mind multiple conversations. At the same time. Exhausted from trying to keep up with everyone’s thoughts, he had sought the solace of the dark and dreary ship’s morgue. There were no annoying, painful conversations in here. Only the lulling hum of the warp coils reverberated through the bulkheads. A hum that had been the soundtrack for 186 years of his life. He limped towards the cold stone slab on which the body of LtCmdr Raj Blueheart lay. He shivered a little from the cold. His boots created echoes throughout the room. ::He was amazingly calm as he drew back the white sheet. Once pale skin now tinged green, stared back at him. How many times had he attempted and failed to count the freckles on that face. The fiery red hair was now dark, wet and oily with disinfectant. The eyelids were stitched close. How dearly he missed those infinite emerald orbs! What he would do to lose himself in them again. The palest of lips were sewn together, the sutures making little X’s across the mouth forever sealed shut. What secrets hid within?:: Lieutenant Commander Raj Blueheart’s corpse lay on a cold metal slab in the infirmary’s morgue. The doctor had led him into the morgue and hesitated just a moment before drawing the sheet covering the lifeless body. As the doctor stepped back, Emerson’s face was still a blank slate, a mask. Only after a full minute did he take a step forward and lean over the slab to peer into dead, opalescent eyes, wide open from rigor mortis. Drawing the sheet further down, he saw a large gaping hole where once the biggest heart in the entire universe had been. He stared into the black abysmal hole, perhaps to look back in time, perhaps to look for remnants of a lingering soul. He moved towards the head, staring once again into those lifeless eyes. ::Withdrawing a small, folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his uniform jacket, he stared at it for several seconds, rubbing his thumb across the surface in circles, before gingerly inserting it into a pocket on Emerson’s uniform. Just over his still heart. Resting his palm there, he looked adoringly at the lifeless man, peering into eyes permanently shut. A soft breath of air escaped his lips. It might as well be his soul departing. He leaned in and kissed the cold, bloodless lips, the catgut X’s [...]ing his own.:: He bent over. His torn lips met those of the dead. Kissing them softly, he only tasted death and formaldehyde. ::Raj knelt beside the table and took Emerson’s cold and rigid right hand into both of his. Squeezing it gently, he silently invoked Athena’s blessing for a soul’s safe passage to the stars and beyond. He closed his eyes not to focus his thoughts and prayers, but because he was ashamed that he never really believed in gods and demons and the life eternal. Death is finite. Death is final. Death is the end.:: Like he cat, he sprung onto the chest-high slab, staring into opaque corneas, slowly reclining beside the frozen body. He ignored the biting cold gnawing into his flesh as he turned towards the body and draped his arm across it, nuzzling his head into the crook of its neck. The late First Officer’s skin was a powdery film of ice crystals, turning to waxy sludge as he ran his hand across the ripped-open chest to cradle the head. He hugged the corpse, the merciless cold boring its way into his own core and his blood began to flow languidly. For the first time in his life, Emerson wished he could cry. He wished he could know what it feels like to have a river of tears wet his cheeks. But shredded tear ducts and multiple repeat brain surgeries denied him this modest request. Rocking gently as if to soothe a colicky infant, he but whispered into dead ears. ::A lonely tear emerged from hiding to roll down his face. It would prove to be the last tear Raj Blueheart would ever shed.:: TBC ================================ Captain Raj Blueheart Commanding Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

((Erscyne Station, Eridani Erscyne System, Afehirr Sector)) ::A softness encompassed her much like a light, fluffy cloud might in a child's imagination. The fabric brushed across her skin as she moved slightly, encouraging her to pull it closer. Still hanging on the edge of unconsciousness, Kali wasn't thinking of much aside from the warmth the blanket gave her. It felt foreign and different against her bare skin, like something one had only read about, but had not actually experienced. And in that realization, she didn't quite want to let it go.:: ::But then the vision of the stars popped into her mind. Immediately her crystalline blue eyes flew open only to be forced closed. Sadly, they weren't met with the dim but beautiful light of a million stars, but the bright artificial light of some kind of craft.:: ::Again, her mind reeled.:: ::Everything felt so out of control. Where she was from one minute to the next, and what she remembered from one point to another all seemed fleeting. It seemed as if she wasn't there to make her own decisions, but someone else would for her. But that didn't seem right either. No, she had to be in control of her own destiny.:: ::A slight frown formed on her face as she felt the air nearby stir. Someone else had entered the room. Forcing her eyes open again, she struggled against the light to make sense of any of it.:: Voice: Be easy, Captain. You are safe. ::The melodic tones of the voice were far different from the one quickly fading from her memories, yet it also seemed familiar. Thinking hard, she finally came up with something. Azeykan. Like a history book, information about the race, including their musical voices popped in her head. Trying to force herself up onto her elbows, Kali also tried to speak. Unlike her caretaker, however, her voice reflected the fact that she was quite thirsty, having never actually had anything to drink.:: Nicholotti: Wa...ter? ::That was all she could get out through a mouth that suddenly felt like sandpaper. Slowly, her eyes were adjusting and things around her became somewhat less blurry as another body approached with a vessel full of liquid. Kali didn't even notice that it wasn't clear.:: Voice: Drink this, it will help regenerate you. ::It didn't take much to get her drinking. The liquid was slightly sweet with a hint of something almost minty and Kali readily drank from the strangely shaped glass. By the time she was done, someone had adjusted the platform she was laying on so that she could sit with support and still remain covered in the super soft blanket. Thankfully, she handed the now empty glass back to the one who had given it to her before speaking.:: Nicholotti: Thank you. ::The one who had spoken only nodded, her long, slim fingers now folding into those on her other hand. For the first time, Kali could see the reddish brown hue of her skin beneath the white cloak she wore.:: Voice: The Prime Captain will be here shortly to speak with you. ::And with a bow, they were gone. Again, Kali found herself left alone in an empty room.:: TBC -- Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti As simmed by Lt Commander Cayden Adyr Intelligence Officer/Command Advisor USS Apollo A

((Flashback - USS Knightsbridge; 22 years ago)) ::Nate was only fifteen when his father was assigned to the Knightsbridge as second officer. It was a great assignment, as is the ship was one of the few Galaxy class ships in service. His father had earned the position and as such, Nate was able to get his first real feeling of deep space travel. He would apply for the academy the following year, but for now, he was a free agent, getting his feel of whether he liked deep space travel or not.:: ::Nate was in the bowling alley, when he encountered his first Betazoid. She was a young ensign, about ten years older than he. As with most Betazoid women, she was incredibly attractive, with brown hair, and deep black eyes, that could drink on ones soul in a glance. She was in her off hours and been practicing in his neighboring lane. Occasionally she would give him a glance, or if he would happen to manage a gutter ball, might he get a s[...] out of her.:: ::Nate was incredibly tall for his age, though he looked like a young man, his lanky mid-teenage frame betrayed his attempts to be adult and suave. He believed he could flirt with the best of them, and it never seemed to occur to him that adult women might be interested in men their own age.:: ::After he had watched the cute young woman complete her frame, he took a moment and approached her.:: ::Nate walked with a swagger that did not match his callow appearance. When he attempted to be charming and experienced he almost always came off as goofy and comical.:: Wilmer: You know, if you keep your elbow locked and aligned with your hips, you'll get better aim when you let the ball go. ::The empathic woman did everything she could to not laugh out loud. Her senses had alerted her that a hormone rabid teenager had been interested in her, long before he had decided to make a fool out of himself.:: Ensign Petra: Is that so? ::She answered in a sweet, but bemused tone.:: :;What Nate could not realize was that Ensign Dani Petra was a full Betazoid who had been born with her empathic powers completely switched on. Unlike others who could not deal with the flood of constant thoughts and emotions, Petra had received help early and could emotionally cope with the invasive thoughts and feelings of others.:: :The fact that this forced her to deal with the sometimes pornographic thoughts of teenage boys proved to be no less amusing to her. She intended to cut him off of course, but she was polite enough to let him finish his pitch.:: ::Nate was rattling on about how he could 'help her perfect her technique' when something in her mind began to bother her. There was something in the young man's mind that was blocking her, and that was an unusual sensation. It intrigued her, and frightened her all at the same time.:: Wilmer: ...and so if you grip it like this, it works better. ::Petra wasn't listening to his voice now, she was listening to the brick wall, buried underneath his hormones.:: ::She stopped and looked at him, uncertain now if he was trying to deceive her, to use flirtation as pretense for something darker, or more sinister.:: Petra: What? I mean... what are you...? ::Nate stopped talking and looked at her, feeling a strange kind of pain in his forehead. He'd felt it around other telepathic species and it made him feel funny, as if his mind were being ripped at from beneath its surface.:: Wilmer: What...are you...doing? ::The stabbing sensation became irritating now, and it was beginning to anger him. Petra, to her sweet credit, felt too polite to dig deeper into his mind. But like a scab a child might pick at, the deception of subconscious buried thought was intriguing and begged to be read like an open book.:: ::Petra took a peek into the buried blocked thought and was not rewarded for the effort.:: ::Her mind was filled with the echoed screams of children, disconnected imagery, the olfactory memory of the smell of fire and smoke, and a second presence. A strong and disciplined mind had left its imprint here. Telepathic powers had touched his mind before, changed it...tampered with it. And there was a name...a very strong name...a hidden name.:: ::And the name was Alex.:: ::Petra's telepathic snooping left a telepathic tickling sensation in Nate's mind and though he did not know what he was feeling exactly, he knew he didn't like it.:: ::He panicked and fell backward over the lane divider.:: Wilmer: Stop it! ::His disturbance made such a scene that everyone who was playing in the alley stopped and looked at him. And the telepathic intrusion startled Petra as well, who suddenly took a step back from his outburst.:: ::Nate did not wait for explanations, or apologies, or even a hand up. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted head first for the door. He never wanted to see this woman again. He hated telepaths, mental intruders. He'd dealt with them before, always poking into his mind. How dare aliens read his mind? What gave them the right?:: ::The darkness shut his mind down again, buried it beneath the wall. Erased the incident, erased the anger at the poking sensation. The memory was hidden with the dark thing underneath. He wouldn't talk about this again. He never wanted to run into a telepath again.:: ::[...]ed telepaths. How dare they? The darkness echoed inward, until it smothered itself and replaced the anger with fun, false memories.:: ::He'd embarrassed himself in front a girl he liked?:: ::No he didn't, the darkness said. The girl had laughed at all his jokes.:: ::Someone had tried to read his mind?:: ::No they hadn't. He got a strike in his score.:: ::He'd scared the Betazoid woman?:: ::No he hadn't. The darkness said she'd thought he was cute.:: ::By the time he'd gotten back to his quarters, he couldn't remember anything other than the fantastic day he'd had with his awesome new friends.:: ::[...]ed telepaths.:: TBC ____________________ Ensign Nathaniel Wilmer HCO USS Apollo-A

((Outside Chief Science Officer’s Office)) ::”Find Lieutenant DeVeau.” Sounded simple enough.:: ::And yet, as Roshanara looked ahead down the corridor that resembled now more a hedge maze, she wondered if she should have had some of the other shuttle crew come along.:: ::Holding a flashlight in one hand and a tricorder in the other, the Kriosian engineer crept closer to Alora’s office. The sensors on the device were of a little help, just showing an ill-defined biomass.:: ::The doors to Alora’s office abruptly opened as she approached, startling her a bit in the dark. Peering in, she found the humble abode just as deserted as the rest of the science facilities.:: ::As she waved the light slowly across the room, she caught sight of a few tiny tendrils reaching out from a petri dish on the small desk in the center of the room. She stepped closer and the green finger-like projections arched towards the light.:: ::Creepy.:: DeVeau: Nara... ::The single name swept out of the void, but there was no face to accompany it. Only the shadows of the mass of flora that surrounded the Kriosian, that thrust the office into the depths of darkness that filled the little room. A sigh, soft, disembodied, followed upon its heels, then faded.:: :he spun around, trying to find the source of the singsong voice.:: Rahman: Alora? Are you all right? :he glanced down at her tricorder, but only indeterminate readings returned.:: DeVeau: I’m fine. ::The sound had switched directions, coming from above Roshanara rather than in front. From those depths, a pale oval slowly slipped into view - her face, just her face, tiny, then tendrils clinging to her cheeks and forehead. She smiled, then her visage faded gloom.:: ::Roshanara turned her gaze upward, gasping at the sight of her friend.:: Rahman: Oh my God, Alora… we need to get you some help. I’ll call for Dr. Skyfire or Del… ::Her answer was in the form of a sudden whiplash of vines that whirled about her form and pinned her arms to her sides, causing her to drop the tricorder and flashlight. As she struggled to get free, Alora appeared again, more of those vines clinging to the science officer, lowering her slowly to the floor, then releasing her - save for those same, slender tendrils that trickled over her face and body, like tattoos etched upon her skin and clothing.:: Rahman: :till straining against the vice-like grip of the vines:: Alora, we have to help contain this… infestation. It’s taking over the ship… hurting people… DeVeau: Is it? ::Alora seemed to glide over to Roshanara and drew close. She leaned forward, her face stopping a breath away from the other woman’s. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to trace a path over them, then she pulled away to encircle the captive.:: DeVeau: What do you propose we do, hmm? ::The vines holding Roshanara tightened, as if to punctuate Alora’s question. The engineer winced as she looked back at her friend, but despite those brilliant green eyes she’d remembered since they first served together aboard the Mercury, she could tell this was not the same young woman she’d helped mentor and reassure during her early days as an ensign.:: Rahman: Alora, please… you’re hurting me… DeVeau: Am I? :he tittered and twirled about as she returned to Roshanara’s view.:: DeVeau: Dear, sweet Nara. :he shifted in closer and laughed, spittle spraying across her cheek.:: Rahman: ::turning her head slightly:: Do you understand what’s going on here? These plants… they’ve done something to you. :he felt another squeeze of the vines and winced again.:: DeVeau: To me? ::A smirk stretched over her lips, those verdant eyes glinting in the dimness afforded by the torch.:: DeVeau: Oh my dear, sweet child. You have _no_ idea. :he cackled, then flicked her fingers. For a moment, the vines loosened their grip just ever so slightly. Roshanara took in a deep breath of relief, coughing as she did so.:: Rahman: What do you -- *they* want? ::Were the plants somehow communicating with Alora? Through her? She needed to keep her talking regardless if she were to have any chance of calling for help.:: DeVeau: What do we want? First...I think we should take a little walk, don’t you? ::Not as if Roshanara had much choice. She twisted in futility as the vines wrapped her up once more and brought her close to Alora.:: Rahman: Alora… please… people are dying out there. ::Alora whirled around, hand curling around the Kriosian’s neck, her fingers digging into the flesh as she pressed her face close to Roshanara’s. Her lips hovered just above the other woman’s, her breath warm as she sighed. A single finger stroked the flesh of her neck, then she released Nara, nails trailing lightly over her skin.:: DeVeau: Come, my dear. I’ve been remiss - I’ve shown my favour to so many, but not to you. That, however, is about to change. I have a gift for you. ::The engineer tried to turn her face away, but the vines just brought her in closer.:: Rahman: ::furrowing her brow:: What are you talking about? This isn’t some game- ::But the science officer’s only answer was a heavy, full laugh, as a piece of fruit hanging off of one of the vines -- a mango, it looked like -- was shoved into Nara’s mouth, silencing her screams.:: DeVeau: Shhhhhh. ::Alora flashed her friend a sinister smile before flicking her fingers as she moved out of the office. The vines confining Roshanara began to follow and soon the two were swept into the shadows.:: --- Lieutenant Alora DeVeau Chief Science Officer, USS Garuda & Dr. Roshanara Rahman Project Manager, Starfleet Soon-to-be-Corpse of an Engineer

(( Deck 4, Crew Quarters )) :: Andrew hadn’t had much of an opportunity to add personal effects to his quarters, so when he stepped out into the corridor with the intent of eating breakfast in Ten Forward, he had no warning to prepare him for what greeted him. :: :: The ceiling of the corridor was overgrown - completely - by a series of what looked to Terran vegetable plants. Tomatoes, specifically. His mother had been a gardener, once upon a time, and there was no mistaking the plants for what they were. Although the overripe, too-green fruits littering the floor didn't much resemble the tomatoes he was familiar with. :: :: Except, these weren't like any tomato plant his mother had grown. For one thing, they were massive. For another, they were growing over the ceiling with so much speed that the reporter could actually see it. It was like watching clouds drift across the sky on a windy day. Except weirder. Actually, a lot weirder. Things like this were the reason he had never even considered a career in Starfleet. :: :: Further down, many of the plants were wide enough to fill the entire corridor and long enough to touch the floor. But, the part that really bothered him, was that they were moving. :: :: Near-panicked officers in less-than pristine uniforms were rushing through the corridor in an attempt to see to their jobs. He saw several armed security and operations officers trying to work their way through the corridors, edging away from the largest plants wherever they could. Except, as that group rounded the corner, another lone ensign, trying to edge around one of the plants, inadvertently bumped into another of them. It apparently didn’t like that. As the young gold-collared Bolian realized her mistake, the plant slammed into her with considerable force, eliciting a scream of terror from the woman. She turned to run only to have her ankles pulled out from under her. :: DAVENPORT: Okay… :: At the sound of his voice, the ensign's eyes found him, and the desperate plea was clear even before she voiced it. :: PREN: Help me! :: She was being pulled towards an open ceiling panel by the time Andrew got to her. He’d intended to pull her free, but when he grabbed the ensign’s outstretched hands and lowered his center of gravity to get a little more leverage, he realized how ill-conceived that plan had been. Two seconds later his own feet were off the ground while the plant snared him as well. He almost screamed, but the Bolian took care of that for him. Instead, he closed his eyes and braced himself for what he was sure was going to be an unpleasant ride. :: :: The missing panel was just large enough for his shoulders to squeeze through. The monstrous tomato plant somehow lifted them into a dark, narrow tunnel, and even more limb-like vines dragged them deeper and deeper down some kind of narrow shaft. When it dropped them, the majority of its body had slumped back down into the corridor, blocking out the light and any any chance of escape, at least through the same hole they’d been pulled in. Plunged into darkness and surrounded by the damp, sharp scent of the plant, Andrew fully expected something worse to happen. But when that something never came, he allowed himself to relax. At least as much as he could. :: :: He took several slow breaths while tentatively reaching around him to feel the walls of their makeshift prison. There was no light, but the smooth metallic walls made him think they were in some kind of ventilation shaft. The woman he’d tried to save was hyperventilating, her rapid breaths echoing loudly through the narrow shaft. :: DAVENPORT: Hey! Settle down. Panicking isn't going to help. PREN: I...I’m sorry. :: Andrew scoffed. :: DAVENPORT: For dragging me up here? That’s all right. By the look of that corridor, we might be better off. I’m just trying to figure out why it took us up here. We’ll skip the how for now, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that one. :: She reached for his arm as she began to breathe more deeply, gulping down slower breaths. :: PREN: I… I think we’re in the ship’s ventilation system. DAVENPORT: Yeah, I think so too. :: He was still feeling along the floor, looking for anything he might be able to use to find his bearings. Instead, his fingers found a complex weave of small, interwoven vines. He couldn’t see in the dark, but they reminded him of the morning glory he’d used to pull out of his mother’s garden. What was something like that doing up here. :: :: More disconcerting, the tiny vines reacted to his touch, curling around his fingers, gripping tightly. Andrew was able to pull his hand free, but with more effort than he’d care to admit. Some of the vines snapped and popped rather than release him. An artificial plastic scent struck his nose as some kind of moisture splashed over his wrist. :: PREN: There are more plants in here. DAVENPORT: I noticed. What’s going on? PREN: I don’t know. Someone called me up to ops, except the turbolifts were all shut down, so it took me a long time to get up here - my quarters are all the way down on deck 19. These plants are everywhere. And. I… I think they’re eating people. :: Andrew laughed. :: DAVENPORT: Last I checked, plants didn't have teeth. :: That didn't seem to help. :: PREN: I… saw one that did. :: That shut him up. Okay. Massive mobile plants with strength to match and an apparent hunger for humanoid flesh. It was starting to get just a little more terrifying than it was absurd. :: DAVENPORT: Do you know how to get out of here. :: There was a pause, then the sound of a commbadge.:: PREN: =/\= Ensign Pren to transporter room 1. Can you beam me and one civilian out of here. =/\= OPERATOR: =/\= Sorry, Ensign. We just lost power to the entire system. Do you need help? I can send security, though they're hands are pretty full at the moment. =/\= PREN: =/\= Um… no. I think we can get out. Pren out. =/\= DAVENPORT: So… PREN: I've been up here before. During the Garuda’s last refit we had to replace a lot of these shafts to make room for other systems. I think I can get us to another access panel. Except… :: She trailed off, prompting Davenport to prod. :: DAVENPORT: Except what? PREN: Except there’s probably a reason that plant brought us up here. Crawling around up here might make things worse. DAVENPORT: Worse than sitting up here in the dark and hoping someone comes along to save us? PREN: When you put it like that… :: Andrew gave her the time she needed to collect herself. :: PREN: If we’re where I think we are, the nearest panel will be about 70 meters this way, but we’ll need to drop down to get there. :: She started down the corridor, where the thinner vines were growing more prominent. Andrew followed here, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of unease that came when he realized he could no longer feel the metal of the ventilation shaft underneath. After Pren’s comment about plants with teeth, he couldn't shake the sense that he was crawling right into some great beast’s stomach. :: PREN: Here’s the drop. :: She said after a few moments of the slow crawl. :: PREN: It should only be about two meters. I’ll go first. If… you don’t hear anything from me, something went wrong. :: Andrew wanted to say something. Volunteer to go first, maybe. But self preservation was a powerful instinct, and one he wasn’t ready to shake just yet. :: :: He heard her drop more than he felt it. It was a soft sliding noise followed by a considerable bang that drowned out any sound of the Bolian’s impact below. After a few seconds she called up to him. :: PREN: It’s not so bad. More plants down here. They help break the fall. :: That was encouraging, Andrew thought as he reached the edge. His eyes strained to see below, but there was still no light. :: DAVENPORT: I’m coming down then. :: A moment later, his feet were slamming hard against the bottom of the shaft. It really wasn't that bad, and the anxiety he’d been feeling was slowly starting to abate. :: PREN: Just a few more meters this way. :: He followed her, encouraged by a sliver of light in the distance. He could see Pren’s slender frame as she crawled along the shaft. And the thickening weave of vines still lining every surface for as far as the limited light would allow him to see. :: :: The sliver of light, it turned out, was the panel they’d been trying to reach. The vines, growing in knotted coils, had somehow forced the side panel open a few centimeters. :: DAVENPORT: Can you get it open? PREN: I think so… :: It took some effort, but the panel eventually gave way to her efforts. She gasped a moment later when she saw what it opened up to. Andrew peered over her shoulder. :: :: The thin vines were growing from an absolutely enormous mass in the center of what appeared to have once been some kind of biology lab. The plant, which vaguely resembled an enormous pitcher plant, now filled the room, while hundreds of vines of various sizes shooting out from it in all directions. Some of them appeared to even be linked into the ship’s power grid. :: DAVENPORT: Maybe we should try another-- :: Andrew had just enough time to start his thought before the vines surrounding them folded into a net-like lattice that plucked them from the ventilation shaft and down into the lab. More vines began wrapping around them, slowly cocooning, like a spider wrapping a fly in silk. That was the last thing Andrew was aware of for quite some time. :: (( OOC - If anyone needs something to do, feel free to get involved! ))=== Andrew Davenport Press Observer USS Garuda simmed by Lieutenant Evan Delano

((DS26, Docking Port from Atlantis)) ::Felix M'Rrow, the diminutive Caitian special investigator, scrambled down the gangway away from Atlantis like a cat from a hot tin roof.:: M'RROW: Get me off this ship! I have never, in all my years as a Starfleet investigator, been so humiliated, so inconvenienced, so utterly outraged by the atrocious behavior of-- of-- ::He realized no one was around to hear him, and stopped talking.:: ::He'd been brought aboard specifically to assist Lt. Commander West in uncovering the whereabouts of Atlantis' missing weaponry. On the way into the Norlian Nebula, a known landscape of treacherous danger.:: M'RROW: I TOLD them it was a mistake. ::Then, West had the gall to unexpectedly depart Atlantis before it arrived in the nebula. M'Rrow, meanwhile, stayed aboard, assuming he had a duty to fulfill.:: M'RROW: The nerve of them. ::To add insult to injury, they didn't even need him to begin with. They'd already solved the mystery. The weapons were stolen and tampered with by West's doppelganger from the mirror universe. They had camera footage, for heaven's sake. Why did they need an investigator?:: M'RROW: I will write a scathing report. Scathing! ::Useless and unnecessary in West's sudden absence, M'Rrow had sat in his quarters, watching the nebula out his window, not sure when the Romulans were going to torpedo him. Eventually, he had a long conversation with some kind of temporal ghost, a nice young man from Schenectady who was out on his first tour of duty, and seemed to think the year was 2299. It was all very confusing, and M'Rrow assumed it had been a dream.:: ::Anyway, the young man appeared to be transported away just before Atlantis flew out of the nebula.:: ::M'Rrow could also swear he had been sucked through a vortex and was treated to a sumptuous dinner by angular aliens in the distant past. Or the future? It was unclear. The indigestion he suffered later was his only clue that the experience was real.:: M'RROW: I will write, perhaps, a concise report. No need to include every detail.:: ::Some detective he turned out to be. At least the mystery about Atlantis' weapons was solved. That's all his superiors would ultimately care about.:: ::Felix M'Rrow cut a quick path away from the Atlantis, darting in and out of the crowd. He might hide away for a while, before going out again on the prowl. Either way, he would always land on his two feet.:: MSNPC Felix M'Rrow Forensic Investigator simmed by Lt. Rendal Rennyn HCO & Flight Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

PART I (Underground Location - Lokesh City) ::The courier from one of the camps had just given her a piece of news she had been waiting for a choice target. A blue woman, the one from the Federation that had just been on the news feeds had been spotted boarding a hover transport leaving the embassy grounds by the streets they were taking the likely destination the press complex in the cities center. She knew time would be short but this was the right moment the right time to strike first blood. The population was starting to calm down but could be railed back up at the slightest provocation. She was going to light the fire of conflict and violent opposition to the aliens and to the regime of their puppet Vail Daysa. After what she had endured being extradited from the federation prison on starbase 118 and given over to brutal Tal’shair who had experimented on her pushing her feilding to the limit for hours on end until the day the facility had been liberated in the uprisings that followed the destruction of Romulans when her people rightfully expelled the Aliens from their world. Only to invite the federation to replace them and instead of open oppression they were doomed to the slow underhanded manipulation of the Federation whose goal is to integrate all under their flag. Forming a plan she darted into the next room a small number of soldiers were always around her.:: Rena: Who here is the best runner? ::Several of her sworn protectors raised their hands. She looked to the three that did not raise theirs.:: Rena: You three which of them is the true fastest runner? ::There three men all pointed to Lorikson a lanky young man with light green coloration on his face. She waved the boy over to her.:: Rena: You have just been chosen to be a martyr my fine man. You are to be the first to strike a blow at the heart of our enemy the federation! Take these. ::She held up two glowing devices roughly the size of a guyver fruit.:: Lorikson: ::His eyes went wide at the grenades his leader had just placed in his hands.:: What am i to do with them? Rena: Throw them at the blue alien woman and at her vehicle then shout Til’ahn for Laudeans again and again until the police arrive then run. Run and never come back to this city go as far as you can and after a years time you can contact a cell to return to us. ::She knew the boy would likely to be gunned down by police or captured.:: If you are captured take this you know what it will do. ::She tucked a pill into a tiny pocket sewn into the inside collar of her soldiers uniforms. She took a handful of blits out of her side pouch and slipped them into his hand as well:: This is for your journey if you can escape. Go now, carry my spirit in your step and may your aim be true. ::The young man tucked the grenades into his vest and bolted out of the room into the catacombs of the lokesh underground. She turned to the others.:: Rena: Send word to my Lieutenants and have them come here we will wait for news of the attack and plan our next moves. I will be awaiting them in my chambers. ::The men in the room looked at her some with awe some with fear at what she had just set in motion other looked eager to start the fight.:: Rena: Today is a great day for the history of our people. The first day of what one day I hope they will call our second revolution! TBC/TAG (Rena’s Lieutenants) PNPC Rena Leader of Til’ahn For Laudeans Lokesh City Cell As Simmed By Brell HCO officer USS Thunder-A Embassy to Duronis II PART II ((Lokesh City Press Complex)) ::Lorikson stood and waited the white colored transport with the federation logo emblazoned on its side was visible ahead nearing the vehicle check point to access the roundabout roadway in front of the press complex building. Those on foot had no such checkpoint to worry about he crossed the street and headed towards one of the stone pillars arranged around the upper curve of the entry way. He cupped one of the grenades in each hand keeping them tucked in his pockets. He watched as the vehicle pulled into drive it came to a halt at the upper center and it’s side door slid open, he had already stood and moved in about twenty feet away at the base of a pillar he stopped and called out at the top of his lungs just as he saw a blue leg emerge.:: Lorikson: TIL’AHN FOR LAUDEANS! TIL’AHN FOR LAUDEANS! ::The sound of a screaming man drew Lyldra’s attention immediately as he got to her feet she could hear the driver’s door opening on the other side of the transport. The screaming man seem to throw something and she heard a thud the sound of something hitting the ground she saw it under the transport and jumped away from the vehicle. He looked back to the Man still shouting. Crewman McKele jumped back into the transport and closed his door. He hailed the embassy.:: Crewman McKele: =/\= This is McKele we could be under attack, returning as soon as i can get everyone back in the transport. =/\= Lorikson: TIL’AHN FOR LAUDEANS! TIL’AHN FOR LAUDEANS! :: He threw the second grenade right at the blue woman, it landed right in front of her, he had held it a moment after pulling the pin. With glee he shouted louder.:: TIL’AHN FOR LAUDEANS! TIL’AHN FOR LAUDEANS! ::Her eyes went wide at her feet was another rapidly flashing bomb that man had thrown it. Thrown it at her. Fear stricken he did the only thing that came to mind she quickly bent down and picked up the grenade and threw it back towards the shouting man, it hit him on his left shin and it bounced behind him right between the man and the stone pillar.:: Lorikson: TIL’AHN F.. ::His cheers interrupted by the unexpected impact.:: What the…… ::She stood there frozen in fear eyes wide and staring at the man who was looking down for the source of what had hit him. She had no clue where the Major was or the young crewman that had driven them here, It was as if the world around her had disappeared. A second later both of the devices exploded. The laudean man was at the center of the blast and so was the base of the twenty foot high pillar behind him, the base was fractured spraying stone debris in all direction and the rest of the pillar came crashing down toppling to one side. Glass in ground floor of the press building shattered to the floor in blast wave. Screams rang out from inside and from the surrounding area. At the same time the hover transport was thrown into the air and landed upside down a few feet away Lyldra was knocked to the ground hard from the blast coming from beneath it. It felt as if a force had just twisted her legs from under her and she landed hard on her head, her blue blood flowed out from a gash at the impact site and her vision went blurry. All she could see ahead was flames and rubble from the collapsed pillar. She struggled to stay awake, and slowly lifted her head and put her hand to the wound. She looked around and could not see Crewman McKele anywhere. She could see the fiery hulk of what was their transport but she could not make out any details it was beginning to hurt to keep hers eyes open.:: Lyldra: Crewman McKele! Major Pavlova! ::No answer came from the crewman. The sounds of sirens could be heard growing closer.:: Pavlova::Picking Lyldra up as though she weighed nothing:: : Time to go babe. ::With that, Irina started the car and completely ignoring her own injury or the crowd, she accelerated hard and made a fast line to the embassy.PNPC Lyldra FDC Attache Embassy to Duronis II & MPNPC Lorikson Til’ahn For Laudeans Lokesh City Cell As simmed by Ensign Brell HCO Officer Uss Thunder-A

((Earth, Los Angeles)) ::Sivah beamed down to the surface from the Starbase in orbit. She headed back to Earth as soon as she could in order to be at Angelica's graduation. She barely made it back in time. She had beamed down into the quad at UCLA campus where Angelica had transferred to in order to complete her degree after leaving Starfleet Academy. She glanced around and was overwhelmed by a tackling embrace by her beloved.:: Angelica: SIVAH!!! ::Sivah couldn't get a word in edgewise as Angelica was kissing her all over and holding onto her tightly. Sivah resorted to simply hanging on and letting her emotional spouse pour out her affections.:: Angelica: I have missed you so much!! Tell me, what happened? Are you okay? What's your ship like? Is the captain nice? How was your mission? Sivah: ::raising her hands some:: Easy, my love. I have missed you as well. The ship's crew was under the influence of something that caused delusions. Yes, I am okay. No, I didn't get a good look of the ship, but I assume the specs are typical of other galaxy class vessels. The captain seems polite and agreeable. Finally, the mission has ended, to which I am thankful. ::Angelica giggled as she took Sivah's hand and they walked across the campus to where the ceremony would be taking place. They walked closely together with Angelica's head on Sivah's shoulder. Sivah allowed the emotional display, knowing how lonely Angelica had probably been without her around. They made for a strange pair: a stoic female Vulcan introvert married to an emotional female human extrovert. More opposite people could not have come together if you tried. As illogical of a union as this was, Sivah would not trade it for anything in the universe.:: ((Timewarp: Later that day)) ::The ceremony went well, and the after party was more than Sivah could tolerate, but she endured it for Angelica. Angelica kept introducing her to everyone. Afterwards, they headed back to their apartment. Sivah was busy packing the last of hers and Angelica's things. She had her uniform laid out for the next morning. Everything would be efficient and ready for tomorrow's early return to the ship.:: ::As she was neatly and meticulously folding some of Angelica's clothes, she felt the warm soft hands and gentle embrace of her lover's arms come around her. She hid a smile as she felt Angelica softly kiss the back of her neck. Sivah continued her folding as she let Angelica tease. Like all couples, they have their little games. Angelica would get playful while Sivah acted busy. When the time was right, Sivah would turn the tables.:: ::Sivah gently laid the meticulously folded blouse into place, and spun around with a Vulcan's grace and precision as she picked up Angelica and flung her onto the nearby bed. Angelica squealed in excitement as she landed and was soon joined by her Vulcan lover. They shared a soft kiss before a command was given by Sivah to dim the lights. Suddenly the bedroom faded into darkness.:: -tbc-

(( SB118 - The Night Garden )) Sinda: Looks like we're in the right place. :: Dotted around the park were various groups handling a variety of different instruments with a staggering amount of inexperience. They appeared to be musical workshops. Ess glanced to their right where a Vulcan tutor was having her calm emotions solely tested by a gaggle of Tellarites murdering Vulcan harps. :: Severina: Rather too many options if you ask me - I don't suppose just asking people will get an honest answer? Wilmer: response Sinda: I guess there's a clue around here somewhere? Severina: How about those Tellarites...? ::Pointing towards the greatest amount of noise Lydia added, :: They seem to not fit in and are clearly torturing the Vulcan - and my nerves incidentally. Wilmer: response Severina: For one thing I would have assumed they would prefer a percussion instrument, something that fits a Tellerite hand better. And for what it's worth I would be inclined to interrupt just to make the noise stop. :: Essen found herself grinning at that. :: Sinda: I hadn't thought about the shape of their hands to be honest. Seems you pick up on the little details, Ensign, I guess that's how you ended up in Security? Severina: I have found it to be a very useful skill. Sinda: Exactly. It's not all about just pointing your phaser at the bad guys. Severina: ::Amused, she answered.:: Well no, sometimes we need to use our brains rather than brawn. Wilmer: response :: Luckily for everyone's sanity, the Vulcan tutor called a halt to the harp lesson. The Tellarites looked surprisingly pleased with themselves as they stood up and starting a good-natured argument about who was in tune and who wasn't. Ess exchanged a glace with both of her colleauges - assigned to the Apollo for less than a day and here she was about to humiliate herself in front of her fellow crew. On the plus side, even with a broken hand, she wouldn't be as bad as the previous bunch. :: Severina: Hooray...that's finished. ::She said it softly so as not to offend, just loud enough that the others would hear.:: Wilmer: response Sinda: Here goes nothing... :: They stepped forward and the Vulcan motioned them to sit and narrowed her eyes at their appearance. :: Vulcan: You are the crew from the USS Apollo-A? Severina: Yes we are. Wilmer: response :: The Vulcan motioned to someone behind them. Ess turned to see another woman approaching. Her elegant dress and elaborate hair, complete with live flowers, suggested a Betazoid. :: Havnor: Welcome! ::she clapped her hands together enthusiastically:: Welcome, brave Starfleet, to the Night Garden. I am the owner, Lillian Havnor, and I believe I have a task for you. Severina: I can hardly wait. ::Now now, sarcasm was unbecoming and she needed to change her tone, so she forced a smile.:: Wilmer: response Havnor: Oh I guarantee it will be interesting! :: As she spoke, the Vulcan tutor stepped forward and provided a musical instrument to each of them. Ess accepted an interesting, long instrument made from a deep jade-green wood. A long neck protruded from a curved body and five taunt strings ran the entire length. :: Havnor: Ah! The Caitian viola. A most beautiful instrument. Caitians usually play it with their claws but other species have to make certain adaptations... ::she handed Ess a curious glove made from supple leather:: If you can master it you will truly be the envy of your friends! Not an easy one to play, however... Sinda: Well, great, I'd hate this to be too easy after all... :: Lillian turned to Ensign Wilmer. :: Havnor: And to you, Sir, a Risian lute. Have you ever played a Vulcan lute? Wilmer: response? Havnor: No? Oh well, I'm sure you'll pick it up all the same. They are very similar. Wilmer: response Havnor: And, of course, I have saved the best for last for you, my dear Severina: You have? ::Havnor held out - a - a - something that vaguely resembled an instrument or a work of art. Baffled, Lydia took it, turned it around, tried to work out and finally gave up and just asked, :: What is it? Havnor: I was hoping you would ask! Why it's a Klingon accordion of course. I'm sure you will be a master in no time! Severina: Oh. Oh, I see. Uh...thank you. ::Great, the accordian looked rather like a complicated piece of Terran origami combined with the results of a transporter accident.:: Havnor: Ah, the task, yes! You three are tasked with coming up with a unique piece of music, to celebrate diversity. Once done, I'll provide you each with a recording for you to take back to your ship. Sinda: Severina, I think you're the only one with any experience. Shall we follow your lead? Severina: ::Great, turning it around she managed to work out which part had the keys - :: Sure. I think. ::Try to sound confident -:: Essen/Wilmer: response Severina: Now have either of you ever played an instrument? Essen/Wilmer: response Severina: Or did you take any music classes....? Learn some songs in childhood? ::She ran a hand over the keys and the accordion let out a noise that sounded like a dying targ...oh fabulous, this was going to be just fabulous.:: OOC: Not sure if they have musical skills or not so leaving this open Ensign Lydia Severina Security Officer USS Apollo-A

((Somewhere in the past)) ::Daro could feel the boat rocking beneath him. The smooth boards which made up the deck beneath him were worn beneath his fingertips. The salt smell, the canvas, the wax and polish…it was all so familiar by now that it felt more like home than home did. Zev’s boat…which meant Zev wasn’t far. He didn’t remember falling asleep up here, but he obviously had. He smiled and stretched as he came awake, knowing the other man was watching over him, watching over them both. Zev had grown up on one of the tropical islands in Earth’s largest sea. Hawai’i. That’s what Zev had said it was called. He was very precise about that because he said that people generally called the whole chain of islands that, but it was the actual name of his island, though many just called it “Big Island.” Anyway, the man had grown up in the oceans. When they’d met in university he’d already arranged for access to a boat in one of the small inland seas here on Anbus. Daro rolled over and looked aft. There was Zev now. He was coming up on deck from below.:: ZEV: Hello there, sleepyhead. I hope your nap made you hungry. I’ve got lunch set up below. Come on down, then we’ll figure out a more athletic way to spend the afternoon. ::The smile Zev gave Daro was wicked. He still wasn’t sure why Zev, the most outgoing person he knew, had ended up dating the most socially awkward guy on the planet, but he wasn’t about to start pointing that out to Zev now. If the man hadn’t already noticed, Daro would just keep hoping he never did. He smiled back at Zev…then noticed something odd. The man, a human he was sure, had Trill spots. It was fairly obvious considering he was only wearing the board shorts he’d been swimming in this morning. That couldn’t be right…could it? And when he turned to go below decks, Daro saw his ears came to a very distinguished looking point. Shaking his head, Daro stood up and followed the man he was falling in love with into the dark doorway leading below decks… And found himself seated at their favorite table in their favorite restaurant. Daro remembered this night clearly, too [...]ed clearly. Zev was wearing the sweater Daro had gotten him for his last birthday. He loved the way it made the man’s green eyes blaze like some kind of gem stone…only Zev’s eyes weren’t green; they were blue. Solid blue. The exact same shade as his cousin Nara’s friend Gimil. Daro had met him the second summer his parents had sent him back to their home world to spend some time with his grandparents. Gimil had been his first crush, the first boy he had ever kissed. He had loved Gimil with the fiery passion only a teenager experiencing a summer crush could. He hadn’t thought of Gimil in several years, but those were definitely his eyes. Daro could see this because Zev was staring at him across the table with a look of awkward discomfort and confusion. His antennae were twitching violently, too. Wait…since when did Zev have Andoran antennae…and snowy white hair? Daro tried to keep focussing on the contradictions around him, but couldn’t. In the way of dreams when you don’t realize they are dreams, he knew what was coming. He knew, and he desperately didn’t want to be here, to hear this, to live through it all again. He had just asked Zev what he thought they should do once they graduated, if he wanted to apply to the comparative linguistics academy the Daystrom Institute was running. He knew that was what he’d just asked because that was the exact look Zev had gotten on his face, in that exact outfit, at this exact table, just exactly as the waiter had brought them this exact dessert.:: ZEV: Daro, I…I’ve already taken a position back on Earth. I figured you’d want to head back to your real life, too. I mean, we’ve got to get serious about things from here on out. We can’t just keep goofing off and playing around. ::Daro couldn’t taste their dessert. He was surprised he had kept the meal down, in fact. He’d been an idiot, and he didn’t have anyone but himself to blame. He knew how horrible he was at reading other people, understanding their motivations and reasoning, but he’d just blindly assumed that Zev was feeling the things he had been feeling. Then his heart plummeted as he thought back to the surprise he had waiting in his apartment. He’d arranged for a basotile to be delivered to him from Basul Rodul. He’d been shaping it for several months now and had intended to give it to Zev tonight as what the other man would consider a proposal of marriage. Now he only hoped he could keep Zev from coming up with him, which after what the man had said probably wouldn’t be that hard, and that he could bring himself to destroy it. Even now, nauseated and light-headed, he thought it was beautiful. But The Artist knew that art based on falsehood was just a lovely fruit with rot at its core. Daro looked down at his plate, but it wasn’t the china they used, and he wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d been wearing that night. He was in a Starfleet uniform, the blue of science and medical, and eating off something which looked far more mass produced than the china he remembered. This…this was where he had to go, had to do. He had to get away from here. Had to get away from this place, this time. He had to get away!:: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ((Conti Quarters, USS Atlantis, present)) ::Daro sat bolt upright in bed shouting. He felt the dream fading, but he also felt the tingling after effect of a psychic discharge. He was usually extremely well controlled, but he knew he’d let some of what he was experiencing escape. He just hoped no one had been around to receive it. It wasn’t pleasant for those who touched a Rodulan mind. He was in his quarters. That much he knew. He could see the fragment he’d taken of his parents’ shattered basotile he’d taken as a memento across the room on a stand right next to the shard he’d kept from the one he’d just been dreaming about. There were noises all around him as well. Soft beeps and chirps as well as one more shrill alarm.:: CONTI: Computer, stop all these noises, please. ::Nothing changed.:: COMPUTER: Medical personnel have been alerted. Stand by. ::Daro groaned and fell back onto his bed. This was exactly what he didn’t need right now. He’d always had a slight irrational phobia about doctors; now they had apparently been alerted about him and were on their way…perfect. He didn’t even remember how he’d gotten here. If the [...]ed noises would just stop long enough for him to think for a moment, he knew he could reason this all out. He had a slight headache, sounds were too loud, lights were too bright, but he didn’t feel too bad. If only the doctors would hurry up, they could make all the racket stop allowing him to go back to sleep. Only he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk dreaming again any time soon. There was a noise from toward his living area, but he couldn’t summon the strength to investigate it.:: TYRIDEN: Mr Conti!! Are you all right?? ::Daro jumped at the sound of the other man’s voice. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision.:: CONTI: Commander? ::Daro sat up again, propping himself on his elbows. That it took a moment for him to recognize the man wasn’t exactly a good sign in his own mind. Of course, the man looked to be in distress himself, so that might have had something to do with it.:: Are you alright? TYRIDEN: I am not. ::scanning the room swiftly as best as he could:: Are you alone? You experienced a.. psychic outburst. CONTI: ::Daro’s eyes closed and he sighed in embarrassment.:: I’m sorry, Commander. I think that was my fault. I’m not…I was having a dream, one that turned fairly unpleasant, and…I’m afraid I may have lashed out. TYRIDEN: ::approaching cautiously, hand with the phaser dropping to his side:: This happens to you often? CONTI: That doesn’t usually happen to me, sir. I’m generally very controlled, responsible. TYRIDEN: I see. CONTI: ::He looked around his room as all the foreign equipment.:: Something happened, didn’t it, sir? I remember going on an away mission…a ship…deserted, but not…we were fired on, then…then I was here. What happened, sir? Is everyone else alright? Ensign Daro Conti Science Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

((Quarters - Torrin )) ::It was late afternoon, the Apollo was safely docked at Starbase 118, but Avaris had stayed put in his room, sorting through documents relating to his new position at the shipboard schools Headmaster. His day had been beyond weird, and he had eagerly awaited Artem's return for the few hours he had to relax before going back on duty. He wanted to tell him all about his conversations with D'Sena and Counselor Walker, to celebrate their probationary acceptance of the School Boards offer of employment. He even wanted to tell him about meeting Dr Renos, although he had planned to gloss over that part a bit... he was still very nervous about the call he needed to make later on. But Artem had arrived home, eyes bloodshot and temper raging. Avaris had greeted him with an excited smile, only to be met with a seething glower and a snarled accusation :: Dragumov: Explain to me why a civilian reported to security today, that she had overheard a bearded, long haired very tall Trill man discussing with a J'naii doctor his involvement in an arson case, while he was walking down a crowded hallway, in the middle of the day. ::Torrins face blanched, the smile evaporated from his face. :: Dragumov: The citizen said that this Trill was whispering, which is good I suppose, that he wasnt just yelling treasonous things like a crazy person. So she could only hear snippets of conversation, but that he seemed to be confessing to taking part in the burning of a library of some sort, back on Trill. Explain to me how that happened Avaris, because I am sure there is a reasonable explanation, and that the reasonable explanation that there is would not be that you, in fact, were talking openly about burning down a building on Trill. Perhaps there is another tall long haired bearded Trill ex-anarchist onboard the Apollo. Perhaps she misheard you. Tell me, for the love of god, that there is a reasonable explanation Avaris, why on my FIRST DAY of active security duty, I heard a report that seemed to be about you. ::Torrin sat down on the couch silently, unable to look his husband in the eye. :: Dragumov: When you are finished explaining to me why that happened, perhaps you can also explain to me why the ships first officer asked the security department to remotely search our quarters computer terminal, and determine how it was that you came into possession of an old intelligence report on yourself. :: Avaris stayed silent for another beat. Looking back up to his husbands furious expression, he smiled weakly :: Torrin: Are you still feeling rough from the party last night buddy? ::It was the wrong tact, and Artem roared furiously :: Torrin: I am sorry Artem... today has been a bit of a roller coaster... Dragumov: I don't care Avaris! Is this a game to you? This is our life, and we have been here for THREE DAYS! How are you already on their radar in three days Avaris? ::Torrin stood up, slowly approaching his enraged husband, speaking as soothingly as his shaking voice would allow :: Torrin: baby, you know I was on their radar before we even got here.... I am so sorry, I didn't mean to stress you out today.... ::Artem shoved him away, clearly not interested in being touched :: Dragumov: Its fine, you cant help yourself apparently. I knew that when I married you... so its my fault I guess. ::His words cut deeply, sounding dangerously close to regret that they had gotten married, that he had included Avaris in his new life as a Starfleet Officer. The computer interrupted the thick miasma of silence growing between the two men, cheerily informing Avaris that a message waited for him. He went to the terminal and sat down, opening the communication. He looked at it, his eyes widened... was this a joke?:: Dragumov : What now?! Torrin: There must be some mistake, commander D'Sena has asked me to meet herself and some of the crew for... a team building exercise tomorrow? Maybe its supposed to be for you? ::Artem glowered, but an expression of puzzlement was showing slightly through his scowl. Torrin got back up, and walked towards his husband, snatching the communicator from his chest, he activated it. :: Torrin =/\= Torrin to Commander D'Sena? =/\= D'Sena =/\= D'Sena here, what can I do for you, Mister Torrin? =/\= Torrin =/\= I apologies for bothering you... I just got a message from you about a team building exercise tomorrow, I am wondering if there has been some sort of mix-up and it was meant for my husband? =/\= D'Sena : =/\= I can assure you, Mister Torrin, that it was meant for you. =/\= ::Avaris looked anxiously to Artem, whose own look of horror could only be matched by the one Avaris himself must have been wearing :: Torrin: =/\= Well... thank you so much for thinking to include me Commander, but I'm afraid my preparations for duties in the school will be keeping be busy for most of the day tomorrow.... =/\= D'Sena : =/\= You will have enough time for that after we are done, Mister Torrin. From my reports, I see that you are now a member of our crew, and therefore will be participate in our exercise. =/\= ::Avaris sighed, defeated :: Torrin: =/\= well... of course I suppose you are right. Very well commander, I will see you tomorrow. Torrin out =/\= ::He handed the comm badge back to Artem, who angrily snatched it from him :: Dragumov: Great. This is just great. Now you are going to spend more time with the command staff, where you will no doubt continue to make an amazing impression for us both. I cant do this right now, I need to lie down. We will talk about this later Avaris. Torrin: I'm really sorry Artem... can I get you anything? Do you want some water? Dragumov: Just leave me alone right now. ::Artem stormed into the bedroom and threw himself on their bed without even taking off his uniform. Avaris went over and activated the door, to give his brooding husband some time to calm down. He was right, Avaris had been very sloppy today... he was finding adjusting to life on this ship far more difficult than he had imagined, and he had imagined some pretty serious difficulty. He went to the replicator and made himself a tumbler glass with some ice, opening the bottle of Saurian brandy he had done a number on the day before, pouring carefully at first, but abandoning pretense halfway through and filling the glass. He had felt like he had gained some ground, and that Artem might even be proud of his efforts, it had been no small thing getting himself hired on at the school. But without meaning to, he had set them back two steps for the step he thought he would gain, and they were fighting, again. He caught his mind wandering, wondering if this was the right thing, wondering if he had made a huge mistake, before snapping himself out of it. There was no use thinking like that right now, they had only just arrived, and they could make this work, he absolutely had to believe that. At least he had a project. The Doctors friend, on the J'naii homeworld. That was something he could do. The doctor still hadn't given him any details, but he figured sending out some preliminary feelers would be proactive and make him feel a little less worthless. The first step was going to be brutal, but now seemed like as good a time as any to do it, he didn't think his estranged old colleague, and once good friend Andressa Castyr could possibly make him feel any worse than he already did. He sat down at the rooms terminal again, and instructed the computer to place a subspace call back home to Trill, hoping that she wasn't home and that he could just leave a message. He realized he didn't even have any idea of what time it was in Vrans, he had so thoroughly acclimatized to the 26 hour Starfleet Standard time that he might be calling in the middle of the night. Luck was not with him, the call was answered. A pretty, slight middle aged Trill woman with long red hair and a prominent chest tattoo framing the symbol of the Unjoined Majority in its centre appeared on the screen. As soon as she registered who was calling her, she scowled and went to disconnect the call. :: Torrin: Wait! Andressa please.... Castyr: I have nothing to say to you Avaris. Torrin: Hear me out, please its important, I have an ask. ::The redheaded woman scoffed dramatically. :: Castyr: You dont get to ASK for ASKS anymore Avaris Torrin. Where is your husband? Is he monitoring this call? You gonna play bait in a sting? Nobody here would fall for it, just to save you some time... Torrin: Adressa, please, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. ::She banged a fist on her desk, the screen wavered with the reverberations of the impact. :: Castyr: You have some nerve Avaris, calling me in the middle of the night out of nowhere, from a Starfleet ship no less. You fitting in nicely with those pigs then? They putting you up to this? oO so it is the middle of the night in Vrans then. Good timing as always Avaris Oo Torrin: ... I am sorry it has been so long Andressa... you were a sister to me for so long, I miss you so much. It has been hard here, trust me, it has been... so hard Castyr: Good. ::Avaris blinked back a tear. The worst part of it was, a part of him thought she was right to be so angry. :: Torrin: ... like I said, it is important. Our friend Jenny is out of lipstick again... ::The Trill woman glowered, her eyes narrowed and her lips were pursed so hard that they were white. But he had gotten her attention, Jenny was their less-than-imaginative code word for any J'naii "Deviant" who was in danger, in need of help from their network of support.. :: Castyr: ...Alright then. Where is Jenny now? Torrin: I dont know yet, she is also a friend of someone else onboard, I am just relying a message... would you be able to get some lipstick to her if I found out where she was?? ::She paused, still glowering. :: Castyr: I could look into it for sure. But to be clear, I'd be doing this for Jenny, not for you. Torrin: Thank you Andressa. Castyr: By the way, for future reference, don't you dare call me sister, you don't get to call me sister ever again Avaris. I cant even imagine what Jaheran would think of you if he could see you now. Just send the information when you get it, don't call me again. Give love from all of us back in your old life to Officer Dragumov. ::She disconnected the call abruptly, before Avaris could say any more. With the screen black again, he allowed a single tear to roll down his cheek, remembering his old life and his old friends, remembering Andressa, and remembering Jaheran. What would he have thought of Avaris now? It was best not to think about it. He wiped the tear away, and continued to pour over the School Board documents, mentally preparing his plans to prove himself capable of molding the minds of the next generation of Federation citizens. :: Avaris Edral Torrin Civilian School Headmaster USS Apollo - A

((Sometime. Someplace.)) ::The glowing from the lab was painfully bright and all encompassing. The static energy around them had subtly shifted, and instead of repelling them from the epicenter, it was now subtly pulling them in. There was no going back now. He had wanted to push Tarch away, free her from this hell of sacrifice, but the time for that was long past. He should have freed her years ago, if not before this whole horrible episode began. It was too late for that now. All he could do was stand by her. Stand by her and hope that somehow time would make things right.:: TARCH: It's coming. Right now. Atlantis has detonated their device. DELAVIGNE: I can’t see it. How can you see it? You need to guide me! TARCH: We have to be everywhere, Frank. In every time. We have to take the anti-polaric energy back with us, to all the moments that came before, back to the very one where you set this disaster loose. We are the conduits. ::She took his hand, something solid in this great wash of light and chaos and he held on back, like a drowning man hold into a life buoy.:: DELAVIGNE: ::Whispering:: Be strong. You can do this. For her. ::Though it was not clear whether he was talking to himself of Tarch. Maybe it didn’t matter. Both of them had someone they cared about, something they hoped they could see again, if only in spirit.:: ::Pain ripped through him and the polaric energy tore through his body, suffusing every cell. Both of them were lifted off the ground, their very physical reality breaking apart as time split into a kaleidoscope of possibilities. Frank saw the lab scene replay, saw his every decision on the Pike, how he had inadvertently engineered destruction into that ship by his own self-centered actions. He saw his descent into madness, his longing for a child, he saw Tarch and Saltas, Arravan and Good, all of them trapped in the rifts of time.:: TARCH: We need more power! We have to be strong, Frank! DELAVIGNE: Strong… ::his word trailed off and he squinted, looking farther and farther away.:: ::He could see the USS Yorkshire, the ship that brought him to the Pike. He could see himself on the USS Hanlon, serving against the Romulans. And if he really looked he could see the New Dakota colony. He could see his little house, the vibrant blue lawn trimmed so neatly with its garish pink flowers along the walkway. He could see Angela waving at him, holding Elizabeth in her arms. His heart swelled. He knew where to find his strength. Power welled around them as he focused on the sight. Whether it was memory of a point in time that he couldn’t remember, but he could somehow see within the stream, it didn’t matter. Angela and Elizabeth were all that ever mattered to him, and they were what fueled him in these final moments.:: TARCH: Thank you, Frank! Thank you! DELAVIGNE: Thank you, Barbara! ::he called back, the words nearly lost in the din:: Thank you for reminding me who I was! ::Her hand slipped out of his and she disappeared, sucked by the eddies of time, away from him. Frank closed his eyes and fixated on that one memory, that one sight. Angela. Elizabeth. He had to see them one last time.:: ~*~ ((New Dakota Colony, 112 years prior)) ::Elizabeth Delavigne stood on her tippy toes, trying to place her father’s favorite Christmas ornament high enough up on the fuzzy fronds of the palm shrub that he could easily see it:: ELIZABETH: Mommy! Mommy! I need a boost! ANGELA: ::Her mother chuckled and walked over:: You know you can hang them on the bottom, I did the top ornaments. ELIZABETH: ::With the steadfast conviction that only a small child could have over a trivial matter, she looked up at her mother, big eyes welling with tears:: Daddy said this one was his favorite! He needs to see it! ANGELA: Well ok, then! ::She laughed and picked the little girl up, lifting her up to chest high and patiently waiting as she wiggled her chubby fingers around a frond, slipping the hanging wire into place.:: ELIZABETH: There! This will be the first one Daddy sees! ::Setting the girl down, both mother and daughter took a step back to admire their ingenuity. On a planet where evergreens simply didn’t exist, Angela Delavigne had to improvise a Christmas tree. She had promised Frank a tree, with presents under it and home baked cookies. They talked about it over subspace, late at nights when Elizabeth had gone to bed. He was due back in a week, and there was a palpable air of excitement in the small home.:: ELIZABETH: Daddy will see it soon, right?! ANGELA: Next week, sweetie. He’ll be coming home next week. ::She leaned down, petting her daughter’s hair:: ELIZABETH: Can’t he get home sooner? Won’t the ships fly faster? ANGELA: ::She chuckled:: I’m sure if he can make it home sooner, he will. ::Angela sat down, drawing Elizabeth with her onto the couch as the tree sprang into a brilliant swirl of color from the tiny lights nestled within glittering golden garland. The little girl gasped, looking up in unbridled wonder:: ELIZABETH: It’s beautiful! ::It was beautiful. It was a beautiful beacon that shone past time and space. It was the one thing Frank Delavigne was focused on as his hazy ghost-like form started to flicker into view. He felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, watching his little girl clapping with delight in the warm glow of the Christmas tree. It was everything he had ever dreamt of, everything he wanted to see. Frank took in a deep breath and reached out to her:: FRANK: Elizabeth. I love you… ELIZABETH: ::She turned slowly, as if she caught a whisper on the wind:: Daddy? FRANK: I’m here, Elizabeth. Daddy’s here for you. ANGELA: Daddy’s not home yet, Elizabeth. He’ll be home soon. ::She leaned forward to draw her daughter back to the couch:: FRANK: ::Looking towards his wife, he felt his breath catch in his throat.:: Angela… I’m here, Angela. ELIZABETH: I heard Daddy! I hear him! ANGELA: ::She looked around:: Not yet, honey. Soon, I promise! ELIZABETH: But I heard him! ::Angela Delavigne sighed, standing up to check the front door, just to make sure. Frank was usually so organized, but he was not above being a joker. Maybe he did get home early and was trying to surprise them? She grabbed a cardigan to fend of the chill in the winter air and started for the door to the hallway. But she never got there. A sickly green flash spread out over the colony, smashing the windows of the home, vaporizing the oxygen in the air and incinerating Angela and Elizabeth Delavigne in a second. There wasn’t even time to scream. Frank Delavigne gasped, unable to make a sound as he watched the most horrific moment in his entire life, play out in front of his eyes. As the flash intensified, he threw his arm up to shield his eyes, screwing them shut. And when he opened them, there she was.:: FRANK: ::Jaw hanging open:: Angela?! ANGELA: ::She stopped, confused:: Frank? Frank, is that you? ELIZABETH: ::Overjoyed, she ran to him:: Daddy! ::Frank Delavigne dropped to one knee and scooped her up in his arms. She was light as a feather, just like a ghost. That’s all any of them were anymore. Ghosts. Still, her hug was full of all the warmth and love that he had been longing for over the past 112 years. He dipped his head down and nestled into his little girl’s hair:: FRANK: Oh, Elizabeth, I missed you so much. I love you so much! ELIZABETH: I love you too, Daddy! ANGELA: ::Angela, meanwhile, had noticed the hazy world around her and figured out that something was terribly wrong.:: Frank… where are we, Frank? FRANK: ::Slowly he set Elizabeth down and looked to his wife:: We’re… ::he choked up:: We’re not there anymore, Baby. We’re gone. ANGELA: ::She gasped, tears welling in his eyes as she rushed over to him:: We’re… we’re dead? ::She whispered:: how can that be? Why are we all here? FRANK: I don’t know. I looked for you for so long… ::he murmured, his voice throaty with emotion:: I was lost for so long, and I finally found you. And now, now I can finally be at rest. ANGELA: ::She looked up at him, seeing the age in his face, the grey hair, the well worn lines, and she rushed to him, throwing herself into his arms:: Oh, Frank! Don’t go. We’re here now. No matter what, we’re together. FRANK: I know. ::he whispered:: It’s all I ever wanted. ANGELA: ::She felt tears forming in her eyes, but none came forth. She wasn’t even sure if she had a body anymore, but she could somehow feel that Frank and Elizabeth were still there.:: Where do we go now, Frank? Where do we go now? FRANK: Let’s go home, Baby. ::He leaned into her, smelling the scent of her lilac perfume one last time before he stooped down, gathered up his little girl and they all walked into the light.:: Let’s go home. ::And they faded away, together at last.:: ~*~~fin~~*~ MSNPC Lt. Commander Franklin DelavigneScience SpecialistUSS Christopher PikeSimmed by: Wyn Foster

This is it, the final round of voting for 2014's Top Sim! The winner of this vote will be considered the Top Sim of 2014 -- one of the most highly coveted writing awards in our community. Voting closes automatically at 23:59 Eastern Time on Sunday, December 28, 2014. Please read all four sims before choosing the one you like the best in the poll above. These sims were submitted by members of the community. A panel of judges consisting of one judge from each ship voted on the best sim from each round. Then, the best sims from each set were culled in run-off rounds voted-on by members of the fleet. The 2014 Hall of Fame archive contains all the sims submitted, as well as the run-off votes. Your vote in this poll is public so that we can ensure that one ship's crew is not "stuffing the ballot box." If we find that any one crew is trying to force someone from their crew to be the winner, that sim will be disqualified and the ship will be ineligible to participate in the contest for all of 2015. Similarly, if anyone is found coercing members of their crew to vote for them, or a sim on their ship, that sim will be disqualified -- before, or after the vote. That does not mean that you can't vote for a sim that was originally simmed on your vessel. You just shouldn't vote for a sim from your ship simply because it's by your crew-mate. Instead, choose the sim that you believe is the best written, most engaging, and embodies the principles of good simming that this community values. For a vote to win the final round, at least 10% of its votes must come from a ship other than the one the sim was created on. LIST OF SIMS – please read all before voting: Jalana Laxyn, "I am here, don't you hear me?"Kalianna Nicholotti, "Legacies"Della Vetri & T'Lea, "You're hired, so deal with it."Della Vetri, "Extreme Babysitting"

((Science Lab 3, USS Atlantis - 2391)) ::Barbara Tarch didn't know where she fit in. Was she chasing after her baby daughter, or abandoning her in Sickbay? Was she trying to find a solution to the time rift, or standing idly by? Was she moving forward in time, or trying to move back? Was she coming? Was she going? And where had she been...?:: TARCH: Look, I just want to get this thing solved. So we can all go back to wherever we're supposed to be, and get on with our lives. SOVAK: You believe the Pike will escape from the rift into its own original time? TARCH: I believe I'm not supposed to be on Atlantis in the year 2391. Whatever else happens, happens. Though for my daughter's sake, I'm hoping that-- ::Barbara didn't fight what happened next. The polaric energy that surrounded her was comfortable, familiar to her. She didn't remember her experiences through the rift, the months she'd carried and delivered her daughter, the time she'd spent unstuck in the time stream. But she knew this feeling, this warm, energized fluidity. She gave in to it, by instinct, and let it carry her where it would. She knew, by some forgotten experience, that fighting against it only made it worse.:: ::Maybe Atlantis could help her, help her crew, help Diana. But there was no holding on to them now, not unless the rift wanted her to.:: ::She was going. She went. She was gone.:: ((Somewhere, Some Time)) ::Barbara floated in the treacherous purple ether of the Norlian Nebula, out of phase with reality, unconcerned with breathing, as she had been many times before. The rift took care of her, the rift never failed her, though the rift confounded her, controlled her, contorted and distorted her.:: ::Since the first time it took her, two months pregnant with Diana and eager to return from this mission, to disembark the Pike for a desk job until her daughter was born, she had come to both hate and love the rift. She knew it now, as she hadn't while aboard Atlantis. She remembered where she had been. What the rift had put her through. What it had taken.:: ::Barbara was in a room now, if that made any sense. It didn't matter where it was. Not the Pike, not Atlantis. Perhaps it was a room in her mind, while her body floated through the Norlian nonsense. It was empty, and it was yellow, and it was where her daughter had been born.:: ::Now she was in space, and a figure like her mother appeared behind her, floating silently, smiling self-confidently, wearing a mini skirt and white boots, her hair in an elaborate updo, her eyelids heavy with makeup. She was translucent, she was almost not there. She was a surely a ghost. Barbara didn't see her. She never had, though sometimes through the decades she had sensed a movement from the corner of her eye, or caught a sense of her mother's perfume that sent an unreachable thrill through her nostrils. The rift liked to play its little tricks.:: ::Barbara was on the Pike, in a corridor outside the science bay, just where she'd stood in 2299 when Frank Delavigne's experiments had gone horribly wrong. She was blasted with energy she couldn't understand, and sent flying across the hall. She expected to hit the wall, but she kept going. She was sure she and her unborn daughter were going to float out and suffocate in space, but she'd landed in a strange room instead.:: ::She was in the room again now. The yellow one, with one little lace-curtained window that looked out on a field of purple space, where Romulans circled in the distance. She tried to remember how she got there. She tried to remember where she'd been. Talking to a Vulcan. Talking to a Trill? Rennyn was his name, but how did she know him? She'd only just been on the Pike? She looked out the window, trying to get her bearings. She couldn't get her bearings.:: ::Barbara was in the nebula again, and from the corner of her eye, she caught a movement. She could have sworn she saw a white boot float past, which a high heel, just like her mother used to wear.:: ::The Pike exploded around her, blasted with polaric radiation in exponential amounts. She flew backwards in the air, and expected to hit the wall. She flew backwards in the air, and expected to hit the wall. She flew backwards in the air and expected to hit the wall, again and again, until she was too disoriented to go on. It made no sense. It made no sense. She flew backwards in the air, and expected to hit the wall.:: ::She existed for months in some pocket of space where Frank Delavigne delivered her baby. While he held Diana, the rift took Barbara. While Frank held Diana, the rift took Barbara. While Frank held her little girl, Barbara was taken away.:: ::At last, Barbara was in the nebula, floating in the purple mists. She woke from a dream, where the muggy air of Florida made her tri-colored jumpsuit stick to her legs. She remembered it all now, everything she'd experienced, over and over again, in this time rift. But there as a continuity to it. It had been hell. No wonder her mind wouldn't let her remember. She'd lost her daughter again and again. The accident on Pike happened again and again. She'd watched the Romulans again and again. But she'd only been to Atlantis once. She'd only lived the events there once. There was something to that. There was something there.:: ::There was something behind her.:: ::Barbara turned to catch what was in the corner of her eye. In all the times she'd floated here, she'd never caught up to the rift's nasty tricks. Now she did. Stunned, she watched the ghost in a mini skirt and white boots, in an orange and purple dress with an updo and heavy makeup on her sparkling eyes. The ghost floated silently, smiling with motherly pride.:: ::Barbara floated towards it, stunned. This was more surprising than anything else that had happened.:: TARCH: ...Mother? ::Her mother's ghost said nothing, but, smiling, floated farther away, out of Barbara's reach.:: TARCH: Mother. I have a daughter now. I named her Diana, after you. ::Her mother's ghost smiled more deeply. It nodded, knowingly. It floated farther away.:: TARCH: Mother, don't go. I want to go with you. I don't want to be part of all this anymore. ::Her mother's ghost shook its head. It's eyes spoke of love, but told Barbara 'No.':: TARCH: I have to stay, don't I? I have to help the Atlantis. I have to help the Pike. ::Her mother's ghost nodded, proudly.:: TARCH: I have to save Diana. ::The truth was, that after all the time she'd spent going back and forth in the rift, she understood it, a little. She could help. She could help from within the rift. But if she did that, she was never going to make it out herself.:: TARCH: I have to save Diana, no matter what it takes. The way you saved me. ::Her mother's ghost floated towards her, came very close, gazed into Barbara's eyes with all the love in the universe. Then, in a cloud of purple vapor, she vanished into the ether.:: ::Barbara knew what to do. She could help close the rift from within. She could help save the Pike. She could help Atlantis save itself, and she could even help save the Romulans. She could save Diana, after everything.:: ::She wished her mother's ghost could have touched her, could have held her in its vaporous arms. For she herself had never held her baby daughter Diana, and now she knew she never would.:: MSPNPC Lt. Barbara Tarch USS Christopher Pike simmed by Lt. Rendal Rennyn HCO & Flight Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

((Unknown)) ::There was everything, and then there was nothing. Both concepts described the circumstances, yet neither did it any justice. All that could be said was that nothing was as it should have been. Everything, even the laws thought unbreakable, were turned on their ends. Time dripped down into the nether itself flowing forward, and backwards, and in on itself.:: ::Darkness fell all around, suffocating, despite the blinding light that ignited a fire so cold it froze one to the core. Or was it all just a lie? There was nothing that could be seen, and yet everything lay out before everyone all at one point in time. It made perfect sense, and no sense, all in one neatly chaotic little package.:: ::A voice echoed in the space around her.:: Hellooooo....hellooo....helloo... ::Like the river of time, the voice faded and amplified, turning in on itself and disappearing from the very existence it once encompassed. What was this place? Faded memories like old newspaper clippings washed around what could be described as a mind, yet in this universe, was no more than electrical impulse. Transcendence, one could claim, would take humanity and all other species to a place where only pure energy existed. Bodies, thoughts, differences, pain, suffering, joy, hate, camaraderie...it would all fall to the wayside as evolution found ultimate control.:: ::If there was a universe in which that would happen, it was this one. Evolution had taken the bodies, but had not effected the minds as some philosophers would have believed. Though the images of what was and what would be were invisible, sentience permeated space itself.:: ::It made no sense, except for that it made all the sense in the galaxy. Or universe. Or multiverse.:: ::A whisper crashed through the din of the silence like a wave on the rocks of Cape Horn.:: Unknown: Ressssst. ::The return of something, an answer, a directive, gave means to struggle. Against the lack of restraints there was fighting, and though nothing held anyone down, she was frozen. The questions froze with her, unspoken to the winds that comprised wherever this was.:: Unknown: Reconstruction has already begun. ::And with that, everything once again faded into nothing. The fond memories of a life left behind found her once more, albeit this time with an urgency that didn't exist before. It seemed to mean nothing just then, but in time, it would come to mean everything.:: TBC Unknown In an Unknown Universe where Nothing Makes Sense As simmed by Lieutenant Cayden Adyr Intelligence Officer/Command Advisor USS Apollo

((Bridge, USS Atlantis)) ::The ripple in time gently rolled across the ocean of consciousness, and in its wake, fragments of past, present and future lives, intricately entwined yet remarkably distinct, lay scattered along the shores of forever.. .. :: ((Through the rift – an alternate tale)) ((Il Diavolo Blu, Living Museum District, Sigma Iotia II)) ::His flame-colored hair appeared black under what must have been a ton of pomade. A stray strand of scarlet had still managed to break free of its waxy sticky prison and now hung carelessly over one twinkling emerald eye. His face was flushed from all the dancing and Red Death, the crimson jarring with the dark olive vest that he had on. The crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, the knot of the solid mauve tie loosened around the collar, and the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. Blue smoke filled the high vaults of the nightclub, the sweet scent of tobacco intoxicating. The chandeliers had been dimmed, but they still defiantly scattered their light in a thousand snowflakes that drifted about the dancehall like fireflies on a summer‘s night. Couples swayed languidly to the lazy bluesy jazz number filling the air, their individual bodies merging into one shadow. Raj loosened his own magenta tie and unfastened the top two buttons of his lavender shirt, pressed firmly against his sweat-moistened skin by a pair of thin suspenders. He rested his head against Emerson’s chest, the top hairs tickling the latter’s chin. He could hear Emerson’s heart beating, almost in tandem with his own. The heart sang a comforting canticle to him, a song without words, for no words were necessary. It was a song of solace and serenity, sanctuary and surrender. The other patrons hardly moved in the smoky, lulling ambience. They were faceless shadows that filled the chairs and booths and stared at the dancing couples. Thin trails of smoke escaped the mouths of these shadows and rose to the high-arched ceiling like inebriated souls seeking the forgiveness of heaven. A murmured I love you here, a whispered plot to kill there. Smoke and shadows, lingering in time. Emerson held Raj close to him and they danced to the rhythm of their own hearts. The night was young, the night was endless for all those who seek eternity. The night will never die! And the night belonged to them! It was an exquisite snapshot in time. It was but a photograph of a single frozen moment in time, a photograph out of time, and there on the wall of this timeless consciousness of the multiverse, it hung, framed. And within the confines of its frames, solace and serenity, sanctuary and surrender.:: TBC ================================ Captain Raj Blueheart Commanding Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682 & Lt Emerson Ravenscroft Xenolinguist USS Atlantis NCC-74682 as simmed by Captain Raj Blueheart

((Temporal Rift)) ::Lieutenant Commander Franklin Delavigne – Frank to his friends – sat in the fathomless waste of the rift in time, petting the head of an infant no more than a few days old.:: DELAVIGNE: There, there, Elizabeth. Don’t cry. I will find you some food if we can ever get out of here. ::Her name wasn’t Elizabeth. It was Debra or Diana or something. But that didn’t matter. He mother had been here, sometimes she was full of spite and hormones, sometimes she was lying down, covered in the mess of birth, cooing and nursing the child. Sometimes the baby was born, sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes he was alone here, sometimes he wasn’t. Things did not flow in a straight line within the rift. That’s why Frank liked it so much. It was as if his past had never happened. As if it was fluid, changeable. He longed for the life he was denied. It was something that had never come out over the course of his duty. He was always so put together, so parental. He was everyone’s favorite grandfather that they didn’t have, which only struck them as odd when they realized that he had no family. Had no family left, to be precise. He thought in a naive way that he had gotten over it. That he could put the past behind him. That was, of course, before the accident tore through the science lab and he had been left at the mercy of temporal flux and polaric radiation. It was now nearly a century that he had been living in limbo, forward and backwards, moving through the ages like a drunken wanderer desperate to forget the past and yet inextricably tied to it. He realized all too soon that the accident has been a direct result of his own hubris. Sure, Starfleet had commanded his team to do research into polaric energy, but he was the one who threw caution to the wind, believing they could control any reaction within their labs. However being at the epicenter did give him freedom, for the scientists who were not immediately evaporated in the explosion found they had a mobility through the time rifts that the others did not. Most of the crew were caught endlessly replaying the same scene over and over again, from a few seconds to a few hours. He had started out trying to communicate with the crew, get the ones who were experiencing a longer loop to make changes and try to correct things in the vain effort to throw the Christopher Pike out of the anomaly. At one point he thought he had it – he was sure it would work, bringing the ship out only a week or two after the incident. And then the Romulans came. Frank bared his teeth to the darkness, swallowing bile at the thought of the species. The Romulans, the [...]s. They who had taken everything from Frank and continued to take, and take and take. In his arms little Diana coughed and gave a weak gasp. She needed nourishment, which the void of the rift would not provide. Frank shivered. How many times had the girl died in his arms, only to have time reversed and to find her anew? How many times would she die again? ~*~ ((Flashback – New Dakota Colony, 112 years prior)) ::Warmth flooded his body as his wife pressed against him:: ANGELA DELAVIGNE: Must you go? Can’t you just tell Starfleet that you’re taking early retirement? FRANK DELAVIGNE: ::he chuckled:: I wish. This will be my last mission, I promise. But I feel the border defense is important. You know, I’m keeping colonists just like you safe! ANGELA: ::She smiled softly:: Technically you’re keeping us safe, too. FRANK: ::He waved her concern aside:: The Romulans would have to come pretty far past the borders to harass New Dakota. Besides, with Elizabeth walking now, you won’t have time to worry. You’ll be chasing her all day and night! ANGELA: ::letting out a soft sigh she turned towards the child sleeping on the sofa:: She’s getting so big. I’m glad you got to see her first steps. FRANK: I am, too. ::He walked over to the little girl, petting her hair back and kissing her head:: Tell her Daddy will be home before she knows it. ANGELA: Will you? ::She watched Frank, questioningly. All too often Starfleet had a habit of making short mission stretch out for years:: FRANK: Captain Hassalet knows I intend to be home for Christmas. I’ll be here, even if I have to steal a shuttlecraft! ANGELA: ::chuckling softly, she rose to her feet, drawing Frank up with her:: You promise? FRANK: ::He nodded, gazing back at her:: I promise. ::With a mischievous smile:: But I want something from you… ANGELA: ::Raising a brow, curious:: What’s that? FRANK: I want a tree. ::He smiled:: All dressed up in pretty lights and tinsel! ANGELA: ::In mock protest:: Frank! There’s no evergreen trees on this whole planet! FRANK: You’re a clever lady, I’m sure you can think of something! ANGELA: ::with a sigh, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist:: All right, I’ll make sure you get a tree. FRANK: ::Kissing her gently:: I’ll see you in four months. ANGELA: ::Kissing him back:: Come home safe, Frank. FRANK: I will. ::A pause:: I love you. ANGELA: ::Whispered, through unshed tears:: I love you, too. ~*~ ((Temporal Anomaly – Present time)) ::The rattling breath in the infant’s throat was getting worse and Frank shivered. Part of him wondered if it was better to keep her here, or if he should have left her with her mother. DELAVIGNE: Come on, Elizabeth. Hold on. Maybe we can get on that shiny Romulan ship and steal some food for you. The other part of him, the one that was damaged by radiation and pain, coveted her. Wanted her to replace the family he had lost. When his mind started failing, he had gone to sickbay and found one of the orderlies was caught in a loop, tending a young baby boy. The kid had a respiratory ailment, nothing major for this day and age, but enough that his parents brought him by sickbay. That’s what started the yearning inside Frank, the longing for something he had lost. And while the orderlies could not break out of their time loop, he could move through it. It was a simple thing to simply lift the child from their hands and take it with him. And yet on a failing starship, caring for a child was hard. Frank was constantly moving to find a working replicator, and enough supplies for both himself and a helpless child. It focused him and yet consumed him. Maybe it was his fault the time loop wasn;t broken and not the Romulans. No. It had to be the Romulans. Romulans were the root of all evil. Somewhere along the way Frank had lost the boy. Maybe it was in engineering? Maybe it was on the bridge? He really couldn’t remember. He had searched the ship, but by that point his mind was failing into an endless cycle of torment, time loops and pain. He never found the baby boy again, and for days (or was it months? years?) he wandered alone. ~*~ ((Flashback – New Dakota Colony, 111 years prior)) ::The shimmering haze of the transporter faded as a cold wind blew through the desolate streets of the burned out colony. The reports had not done this justice. It wasn’t a strategic strike, it was a massacre. Commander Jolani cast a wary glance towards Lieutenant Delavigne. She knew all too well that this was the settlement his family had been in, and with comm lines down the chances for survivors didn’t look good. Their boots crunched through sand that had been melted into glass by orbital fire. Smoke still rose for a few building on the horizon, though it appeared any fires in the local vicinity had long since burned themselves out. The Romulans had called it retribution for the unintentional destruction of a cargo freighter by a trigger happy gamma shift on patrol in the neutral zone. Jolani called it murder. Delavigne was shaking as they moved their way through the empty streets. There was no sign of survivors rushing out to meet them. Unless they found some way to get underground and hadn’t yet found the courage to come up for air, it was looking like all the medics could do was start tagging bodies. They crossed a high street and without warning Frank Delavigne broke into a full sprint. Security Officer Connel reached out for him, but Jolani put a hand up.:: JOLANI: Let him go… ::She understood all too well the need for closure. The need for answers, even if those answers were not good ones. As her team circled around looking for survivors, she followed Delavigne into the gaping burned out hole of a colonial habitat. Inside was the same chalky black burn pattern the rest of the colony displayed. No one saw it coming. Maybe the settlements on the far side of the planet would have survivors, but it was clear this city had been caught in the middle of broad daylight by seven decloaking warbirds. A scream ripped out of Frank’s throat, raw and bitter as he collapsed next to the ashed remains of what appeared to be one of the leafy fern trees. Spatters of gold and silver were melted to the ash, piled around the charred remains of two corpses. The man crumpled like a marionette with all the strings cut, screaming into his hands until he coughed up blood and the screams lapsed into tears. She could make out one word: ‘no.’ JOLANI: Frank… ::She started as soft as possible:: DELAVIGNE: There is no justice for this! There is no sense! My baby! My wife! ::The Commander’s brows knit and she lay a hand on his shoulder and he started to sob incoherently:: ~*~ ((Temporal Anomaly – Present time)) ::Baby Diana gasped again, her face turning blue. Frank felt his heart leap into his throat:: DELAVIGNE: No, Elizabeth, hang on. ::He looked up, feeling a surge of fear tear through him as the strange shiny ship came back into view. He didn’t want to go there. He was afraid. Terribly afraid. But as the baby in his arms gasped, he felt tears sting his eyes. How many times did she have to die?:: Dear God, please hang on… ::Frank Delavigne took a deep breath and stepped through the rift, onto the USS Atlantis…:: ~*~ OOC – any ideas on where he should land? Tbc! ~*~ MSNPC Lt. Commander Frank Delavigne Science specialist USS Christopher Pike as simmed by Lt Shar'Wyn Foster Chief Medical Officer USS Atlantis

((Deck 42, Corridor Near Cargo Bay 18, USS Constitution-) ::Onil stood, watching the swirling mass of energy in the Cargo Bay grow before his eyes. The researcher in him was fascinated, transfixed by the power and beauty, as well as the scientific prowess that been able to physically mark an unidentified foe. He felt the corners of his mouth tick up in a slight smile.:: ::However, the smile hid his fear. His fear of the unknown. His fear of dying. His smile disappeared entirely when he heard the Andorian science officer saying his name.:: ::Pulled from his terrifyingly close enchantment, the Ktarian listened to what the young officer had to say.:: Udas: =/\= Doctor Aralo, this is Lieutenant Udas. We need you to manually override the cargo bay controls and jettison the contents. =/\= ::Onil frowned for a moment, letting out a deep huff.:: Onil: =/\= Understood Lieutenant. Stand by. =/\= ::The Ktarian moved over towards wall panel and touched a few keys. Nothing happened. He tabbed through another screen and then another, attempting to manually override the controls of the door way again and again. The same error message scrolled across the screen every time.:: ::He slammed his fist angrily against the wall.:: ::Taking a deep breath, he looked around the corridor, for anything or anyone to assist. He was, as he had been for many months, alone. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. :: oO You have to do this, Aralo. You have to make amends. Oo ::He dropped to one knee and pulled off a wall panel underneath the controls. It was fairly standard for a three manual lever to be underneath the control panel as a fall back in case the doors wouldn't respond. He paused for a moment, suddenly realizing what was about to happen.:: ::In heavy breathes, he spoke into the comm system.:: Onil: =/\= Commander Faranster, Morely. The manual ::his breathing was labored:: manual override seems to have...failed. No other way to jettison...to jettison...the contents of the cargo bay except from...inside. ::there was a long pause:: I'm so sorry for everything. I...really really am. Morely, tell...my daughters.. Well, you know.... =/\= ::Feeling his fingers wrap around the cold, metal level, Aralo pulled with all his strength. Looking towards the doorway, he was relieved to see about a meter opening in the Cargo Bay doors. Just enough for him to squeeze in.:: ::Rising to his feet before he could think about it any longer, the pudgy man squeezed himself into the cargo bay and the energy fields.:: ((Deck 42, Cargo Bay 18, USS Constitution-) ::The feeling couldn't be described as painful. The energy immediately washed over him like a cool bath, immersing him, covering him. A million different thoughts and feelings, the feelings of people he'd never known, the feelings of those aboard the ship poured into him and through him. The energy was reacting to his presence.:: ::Blindly feeling his way along the wall, he found a control panel. Kneeling again, he removed the wall panel and reached into to find the lever. Finding it easily, he pulled it, watching the meter or so gap in the doors close behind him. He was sealed in.:: ::Moving through the energy, he felt overwhelmed. Everyone he had ever known, his daughters, both his ex-wives, his grandmother, and teachers from his days at university, random strangers, Commander Faranster and Morely, all of them were inside of his mind. All of them were watching him, silently.:: ::Stumbling, the energy becoming almost too much to bear, he found the opposite wall of the Cargo Bay and the manual jettison controls. Raising his fist above his head, he crashed his hand down, breaking the glass covering.:: ::A red button, marked ""ONLY USE IN EMERGENCIES" stared back at him.:: oO This is it, Aralo. No turning back. Oo ::A voice broke through the energy, a voice he had heard a thousand times.:: Voice: Papa, it's time. Come home. ::Onil smiled, tears being pulled from his eyes:: Onil: I'm coming, honey. ::With that, Aralo slammed his fist into the red button.:: ::He felt, only for an instant, the gravity of the Cargo Bay being pulled out from around him as the contents of the Cargo Bay were pulled into space. He too was floating, a suddenly weightlessness about him. He was spinning, spinning, spinning. His vision slowly fading to black. His eyes couldn't focus much, so he closed them. Everything went white, he lost all feeling. There was nothing any longer to Doctor Aralo Onil. Nothing except the voice of his daughter calling his name as he tumbled further and further away from the Constitution and closer and closer to home.:: TBC..... MSNPC Doctor Aralo OnilResearch, Sotra Orbital Research Station Simmed by Lieutenant Udas

((OOC by submitter: The main figures in this post are J'naii and the writers use gender neutral pronouns. For an overview and explanation of those used you can check Renos' Biography: http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Renos)) ((Chief Medical Officer’s Office)) ::The screen flickered onto a dark scene, with only the haunted face of an individual staring forlornly into the camera. Long shadows accentuated the obvious anguish on nir features, and ne took sharp, ragged breaths as if ne had just been chased. After a drawn out pause, where the individual appeared to steel nir nerves, ne started talking:: Nila: I don't know what else to do. I don't know where else to go. I don't even know if this plea will get me safety and relief, or if it will ensure my swift and decisive trip to the psychotectic chambers. And at this point, I'm not even sure it matters either way!:: ::Nir voice hitched in a sob, and it took several seconds for nem to regain composure. Finally, in a wavering tremolo, nir voice continued.:: Nila: It all came to a head yesterday. I was crossing the square's atrium on my way home from work, minding my own business, when somebody jostled me in the crowd. It was hard enough that I dropped my satchel, and a tube of lipstick rolled out and across the cobbles. ::Ne stopped, a pained, faraway look crossing nir face. It was obvious ne was reliving and replaying the event in nir mind.:: Nila: It rolled to a stop against a foot. Of course, it had to be a magistrate's foot! Just my luck! It was as if time had crawled to a stop. Ne stooped, ever so slowly, and gingerly grasped the tube between the tips of nir thumb and forefinger. Ne had held it distastefully as far away from nemself, and let nir incredulous, imperious gaze fall upon me. "Does this belong... to you?!":: ::The small J'naii screwed up nir face in pain, as a tear trickled down nir cheek. Nila shook nir head, as if by doing so ne could shake the acute images from nir memory.:: Nila: ::voice squeaking:: What could I do?? Of course I yelled out, "What are you talking about? I've never seen that before in my life!". I gathered my satchel and ran, ducking and weaving through the crowd. I could hear nem yelling, telling me to stop, but I got away... That one item of makeup cost me half a month's salary on the black market. ::bitter laugh:: Can you believe that even matters to me? I'm only a low-level clerk, so I don't have many credits to spare. My life, my identity is in danger, and still that pops into my mind unbidden. How many credits in contraband makeup did I flush down the reclamator when I got home? Does it even matter?! I don't know!! ::Heaving, gasping breaths as nir manic eyes bore ceaselessly, unseeing, into the camera. It took nearly half a minute this time for nem to start again.:: Nila: I'm told that there are those who can help. That you can help. If this even makes it to somebody useful. I took a huge leap of faith coming here today, all because someone told somebody, who told someone else, who told me that I can get out a message this way. If this is true, then please, I need your help. They all look at me like they know! My coworkers, my neighbors, even the people I pass on the street! They all know! And it's only ::shudder:: a matter of time... they're coming to get me... ::Ne looked rapidly from side to side, seemingly reacting to nothing.:: Nila: Did you hear that!? Is someone there?? ::back to the camera:: I don't know when I can attempt contact again. I'm so scared... This room is within two kilometers of the civic chamber, for goodness' sake! It was foolish for me to come here... ::The recording stopped, the screen going blank.:: :: Renos had squirmed uncomfortably the whole way through watching it and felt really quite distraught because it touched raw nerves or nir own. The fingers of nir right hand hand eneded up getting chewed at the other hand scratched at nir scalp and tagged at nir hair nervously. :: Renos: oO ::Despairingly:: How many more people have to suffer like this? Oo :: Ne had to put down the PADD and step away from it. Maybe the issue seemed magnified to nem because of nir personal experiences and involvement with a particular secretive group but this seemed to be frighteningly common. It was a video ne could just as easily name nemself back when ne was on J’naii because everything in it rang true. :: :: The way ne felt, the cost of expression and the danger it held, the fear of being caught. Ne knew exactly how this poor J’naii trapped on home world felt because ne had felt it before and ne felt it now in watching this and remembering what it was like. Ne felt fairly distressed about it all. :: :: Ne snatched up the red PADD and left the office wearing a stiff expression. Ne stomped down the corridor on autopilot and only when ne approached the turbo lift did ne realise ne needed to select a destination. :: :: Renos knew full well that in the silence and emptiness of nir quarters ne was likely to become increasingly upset as ne thought more and more about the poor anonymous J’naii. Ne knew ne needed to find a way to help. The chief medical officer was acutely aware that ne was only able to live this great life now because ne had received assistance some years ago. First ne was going to need to figure out who had sent this. :: :: For a split second the well-developed sense of paranoia, honed through years or living in fear resurfaced and ne considered that this might be a trap! Ne was a wanted criminal. Wanted for being, in the words of the government – unwell, mentally deficient, unevolved… deviant. Ne had seemed so genuine though…. :: Renos: oO That’s what they want, to sucker you in. Oo :: Ne selected the deck for the Mess Hall hoping that even if ne wasn’t up to eating the bustle would provide a distraction. This kind of message was always hard to take and ne knew that ne needed to calm down and think reasonably or ne would be no help to anyone. Ne was not prone to over emotional reactions on a normal day and ne hated to feel like this all over again. :: Renos: oO Don’t kid yourself that after all these years they still care to look. If I am lucky I am dead to them. Oo ((Mess Hall)) :: Renos realised ne had arrived in the Mess Hall firstly because of the increase in noise and then because ne tripped over someone’s foot and almost fell onto nir knees. While the yellow collared individual apologised for having had her foot stuck out ne wasn’t really listening or interested. It did bring nem out of nir own head for a moment though. Ne replicated a glass of water and went to sit down, preferring to stay away from the more crowded tables and popular areas such as the seating near the viewports. :: :: Most people were here to eat and had plates and bowls atop their trays but Renos didn’t care. Ne wore an expression of deep concern, hugged nir PADD with the left arm and sat staring at the glass, increasingly unaware of nir surroundings. Ne was deep in thought about how ne was going to get a message back to the J’naii and what ne could do to help. Ne almost wished ne was back home, if only because ne wanted to be able to comfort this J’naii in person and give nem a hug and a new lipstick. Ne absently rubbed nir lips together thinking about how easy these things were to come by for nem now. :: :: Every so often a louder noise nearby, like the irritating scraping of a really sharp knife over a plate, or a dropped spoon would catch nir attention and make nem look around and pay attention to the Mess Hall for a bit. Whenever ne thought about the video and the expression ne saw, the emotion in the voice it made nem have to blink back the tears as a wave of emotion hit him. How ne hated nir own people at times. :: --- Lt Cmdr Renos Chief Medical Officer USS Apollo-A and Nila simmed by Ensign Maxwell Traenor Science Officer USS Apollo-A

(( Menthar Memories )) DELANO: Why come to me with this? :: The human on the other side of the table was leaning forward, his hands clasped in front of him. Andrew Davenport. Journalist and, apparently, troublemaker. Something about the man had made Evan suspicious of the man the moment he’d sat down at the table. :: :: At Davenport’s request, Evan had come in inconspicuous civilian clothing - a simple button up shirt and dark slacks - to conceal his Starfleet affiliation. Davenport himself wore a dark hooded shirt that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a few days. :: As the reporter talked, Evan watched for any tell that might betray a lie. :: DAVENPORT: Because you’re the closest thing to a cop I’m willing to trust right now. (lowering his voice) Someone tried to kill me - or have me killed - and I don’t think it was one of these Maquis Reborn. :: Evan looked the man over. He’d done a little digging into the journalist’s background before agreeing to meet with him. The man was not well-liked within Starfleet, and though he did have a following among some political ideologues on Earth, he was virtually unknown outside of the Sol system. In fact, Evan had learned, the man hadn’t so much as left the system in at least seven years. Until he abruptly decided to move to the frontier. He also happened to arrive on DSX the day before a terrorist organization had attacked the station. :: :: Andrew Davenport wasn’t just suspicious. It was clear he was hiding something. Something that Evan intended to know before this conversation was over. Whatever it was, Davenport seemed to think it was dangerous. :: DELANO: What’s wrong with Glinn Zorkal? :: The human looked surprised.:: DAVENPORT: Besides the fact that he’d probably arrest me as a suspected Maquis sympathizer? :: Evan narrowed his eyes. :: DELANO: What makes you think I won’t? DAVENPORT: Because you’re Vulcan. Or at least half-Vulcan. Zorkal seems like a good man, but he’s also the Cardassian chief of security on a station that just lost its Cardassian CO to a terrorist attack. A terrorist attack with Federation - and more importantly, anti-Cardassian roots. I think you’re more likely to be able to see past that and help me figure out what’s going on. :: Evan sighed and picked up his drink. He’d barely touched it. He liked black russians, but he wanted to keep his mind clear. A very large part of him wanted to simply get up and walk away from the table. Maybe send a message to Zorkal, or Calderan, or even Egan Manno. But he could see the logic in the journalist’s explanation. The Cardassian justice system was inconsistent at best. If higher ups were calling for arrests, Evan wasn’t sure he’d put his trust in a Cardassian security officer either. :: :: On the Starfleet side of things, Evan, a lieutenant, could be more discreet than a higher ranking officer like Calderan. Besides, if Davenport’s would-be assassin wasn’t part of the Maquis Reborn, there was a good chance he - or she - was a Federation citizen. Davenport’s background didn’t seem to account for enemies from other jurisdictions. :: :: Evan set his glass down without so much as a sip. :: DELANO: Alright. I can probably look into this. But I’ll still need to talk to Zorkal. :: Davenport looked like he wanted to object, but he held his tongue. That earned him a few points, Evan thought. :: DELANO: I don’t know if the captain will go for it, but I may be able to get you quarters on Garuda. That would put you in our jurisdiction and give me at least some legal authority to start poking around. :: Davenport nodded and remained quiet for a moment. He looked around the bar, then returned his focus to Evan. :: DAVENPORT: I always hated space travel. :: Evan raised an eyebrow. :: DELANO: You’ve come an awfully long way, then. :: The journalist shrugged and downed the last of his own drink. Something orange and with a vague floral scent. He thought it might be Risian, but Evan couldn’t identify it with any certainty. :: DAVENPORT: I have a good reason. I was… I thought it would make for a good story, but after this… :: The human averted his eyes and focused on the single ice cube at the bottom of his glass. :: DELANO: (harshly) I’m through with vagueries, Mr. Davenport. If you want my help, you need to tell me what this is about. Why would someone want you dead? :: Davenport swallowed, once, then looked him in the eye. :: DAVENPORT: (voice low) How closely do you follow Council politics? :: Council? As in the Federation Council? What the hell was this about? :: DELANO: I vote. I read up on the candidates when I do. That’s about it. DAVENPORT: Did you know that they heavily influenced the decision to share this station with the Cardassians? DELANO: And? DAVENPORT: None of that debate was public. I only know about it because… (break) Ugh, that’s not important. Don’t you think it’s a little strange that the Federation Council is making backroom deals with the Cardassian government? DELANO: Not really. We’ve been working with them for decades. Ever since the war, really. DAVENPORT: Exactly! But that cooperation has always been transparent and open. Why keep it behind closed doors now? Why not tell the Starfleet officers in the region until the deal was done? :: Egan Manno had asked him about this very thing while he’d still been Garuda’s Strategic Operations head. He’d never managed to find her a good answer. :: DELANO: I still don’t understand what you’re getting at. :: Davenport leaned even closer. Deep brown eyes locked on his. :: DAVENPORT: Something big - something very big - is about to happen between the Federation and the Cardassian governments. Something that a lot of people aren’t going to like. Something that could even lead to things like… say the rebirth of an anti-Cardassian terrorist group. :: Evan immediately thought of the sabotage he’d found in Ambassador Prianna’s shuttle during Garuda’s encounter with the Kubarey. Of the strange rumblings out of Zeta Equulei regarding the end of the Myr Luuk/Community conflict. Harrison Ross’ not-quite-explained treason. Could there be a common thread? :: :: Now it was Evan’s turn to whisper. :: DELANO: Are you saying that factions within the Federation are actively conspiring against the Council? :: The reporter’s eyes lit up and a mirthless smile curled his lip. :: DAVENPORT: I don’t know for sure, but I can see it in your eyes. It would explain a lot of what’s been going on around here, wouldn’t it? DELANO: Yes, but… :: For centuries now, the Federation believed itself to have moved beyond this kind of petty politics. Yes, the occasional official was removed from office for scandals, but this was way beyond that. It bordered on sedition. The memory of the Dominion War was still fresh for many of its survivors. Yes, the Cardassians had ultimately paid a heavy price for their role in escalating to war, but there were those who had called for greater reparations. Sanctions. Some had even advocated for the complete annexation of Cardassian space. A few of those people were still sitting members of the Council. :: DAVENPORT: You understand, right? The Council is sitting on an old fashioned powder keg. They’ve started the ball rolling towards… something. Only now they’ve realized that some of us - Cardassian and Federation - aren’t ready. So both governments are trying to find a way to resolve this without having it blow up in their faces. DELANO: And you think someone would kill you to keep you from… what, telling others what you know? :: The reporter shook his head. :: DAVENPORT: Probably not for that. But… I know I seem suspicious, and when tensions are high, it isn’t hard to force a connection between one suspicion and another. Maybe some Cardassian gul thought I was an agent for the Council - some kind of shadow representative, perhaps. Maybe some other government caught wind of the deal and is trying to stop it. Who knows. That’s what I need you to find out. DELANO: And what’s in it for you? :: Davenport shrugged, finally leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. :: DAVENPORT: It’ll still make one hell of a story when it’s all over. :: Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.:: DELANO: Unless someone kills you first. :: The journalist’s expression quickly soured as Evan stood up to leave. :: DELANO: Don’t worry, I’m not going to let that happen. If I can help it, anyway. I suggest you return to your quarters until I have a chance to talk to the captain about bringing you on board. DAVENPORT: And what should I do in the meantime? :: Now it was Evan’s turn to smile. :: DELANO: Write. Or whatever it is you normally do. You just witnessed the rebirth of one of the most infamous terrorist organizations in the history of the quadrant. Isn’t that enough to keep you busy for a few days? :: The other man nodded, though he seemed reluctant. :: DAVENPORT: You're right, I suppose. :: The reporter sighed and started getting to his feet. :: DAVENPORT: Lieutenant, I really appreciate you helping me out with this., DELANO: Don’t thank me yet. Something tells me this is going to get a lot messier before we're done. === Lieutenant Evan Delano Chief of Security/Tactical USS Garuda Andrew Davenport Freelance Journalist

((Bridge - USS Atlantis)) ::As the computer began its process of searching for the prefix codes for the USS Christopher Pike, Tracey leaned back and looked up at the two Romulan vessels lingering on the main viewscreen, and she wondered what deceit they had planned. Tracey knew first hand the levels of deception the Romulans can go to to get what they want, and her memories of a particular mission to a Romulan refugee colony, while serving on the Independence flowed back to the forefront of her consciousness.:: (USS Tiger-A - Sickbay 2 Years Ago)) VELANA: Commander, this might sound odd, but by any chance, have you ever been to Bilire VI? ::Tracey's features changed to that of curiosity. Tracey was curious how the Doctor knew about Bilire VI. It was before she came aboard the Independence.:: TOWNSON: Yes, Doctor. Is there a problem? It was there actually where I suffered my first loss of consciousness. Is there a link somehow? VELANA: When I was at the Academy, one of my xenopathology professors was...well, you could say he was obsessed with incurable diseases. One of the biggest that we studied originated on Bilire VI. I suppose I remember it because he was so close to finding a cure. All he was missing was one chain of amino acids that would break down the virus in the bloodstream, but every time he tried to manufacture it...he failed. TOWNSON: We had the same problem, as well as the Romulan Doctors at the colony. VELANA: Those amino acids...they're present in your blood, Commander. In exactly the right pattern. ::She paused.:: I can't explain how or why...but you're carrying the cure for one of the more unique diseases in the galaxy. TOWNSON: How!? ::Tracey looked at the Doctor with curiosity. Tracey recalled the day she passed out with vivid clarity.:: (( Bilire VI - Jungle - 3 Years Ago)) ::The trek back to the main colony was more difficult to traverse than it was to head to the campsite where Commander Clack was. Tracey figured it had to do with the darkness setting in. On her way through the brush, Tracey slipped on a root and lost her footing. She would have fallen but she was stopped by a strong arm. Tracey looked at the face that was attached to that arm and a look of recognition crossed her face. Tracey stood up as straight as she could, in the mud and water under her boots.:: TOWNSON: Commander Tal'Aura? TAL'AURA: ::smiling:: Yes Cadet Townson. It is I. But I am not a Commander. At least not here. TOWNSON: Cadet? TAL'AURA: Yes Tracey. You must remember. I was your Commanding Officer while you were stationed on Romulus. TOWNSON: Yes...but... TAL'AURA: I know what you are thinking. I too, was dragged to this universe during a transporter accident. TOWNSON: ::looking skeptically at the Romulan male standing in front of her, who was easily 6'7" tall and extremely muscular.:: What? TAL'AURA: About two years ago, I was ordered to Aramus II in the Delta Minara sector, where a Romulan convoy was attacked by Dominion fighters. During transport from my warbird, I was caught in a transporter accident and ended up on a warbird in this universe. TOWNSON: I...see...::still skeptical:: The information regarding my situation is readily accessible in my personnel files, and seeing as to how the Federation and the Romulans are... TAL'AURA: Commander Jaxx...How is your husband Commander Jaxx? TOWNSON: What? TAL'AURA: I remember when you used to sit at your desk on the 12th floor of the office building where we worked in the city of Solius, on Romulus as a signals operator. You would look out the office window and up at the stars. When I would come to your desk and ask you what you were looking at, you would respond with " I wonder what star Andrus is closest to now." ::smiling:: TOWNSON: ::blinking and shaking her head:: This...this is not possible. I... TAL'AURA: During that one training class when I had you fight that Norscican. The whole class was laughing at you, and bet against you saying that you'd never win. TOWNSON: ::tinge of anger:: And I didn't. I didn't last one minute. He threw me against the wall like I was yesterday's trash. That was completely unfair Commander. TAL'AURA: ::light laugh:: You're still the same, aren't you. I'm glad this universe didn't change you. I remember the first 30 seconds, you tried everything to win against the Norscican, despite the odds against you. You went at him with every skill at your disposal, despite the odds. ::pointing to the pips on her collar:: That is why you are wearing those. And that was the kind of soldier I saw in you so many years ago. ::Tracey looked up at the shadowed Romulan whose only source of light was coming from the planet's twin moons glowing over the man's head. Tracey had no idea what to make of her former superior officer potentially being also from the same universe as she was. And every part of Tracey wanted to believe that she was not alone.:: TOWNSON: Did you find a way to return? Did the Romulans try? TAL'AURA: ::looking down and speaking with a touch of sadness in his voice:: Unfortunately no. When I arrived in this universe, I came as a Centurion. I found it difficult to contain my skill level on the warbird I was assigned to. The Commander found me to be a threat to his authority. I was forced out of the military. TOWNSON: ::looking up and smiling:: Me too. When I first came here, I was an Ensign. At the beginning, I received quite a few tongue lashings by taking command in situations where I shouldn't have. TAL'AURA: At least they didn't force you to resign. TOWNSON: No. But I did spend a year at Starfleet Medical. I had a lot of trouble integrating at first. TAL'AURA: Understandably so. Do you still know how to speak our language? TOWNSON: Daie Riov. D'sora hrrau'khir nnaenukhe mh-aigrev reh, mrht p'tned-pra'krsh aeu. (Yes Commander. Coming here took a lot from me, but never that.) TAL'AURA: ::looking up at the darkened sky:: We should head back to the compound. Come to my...home...if you would call it that. We'll share some stories over some ale. TOWNSON: ::smiling:: That would be nice. I am honored, Commander. ::As the two headed back to the refugee camp, they spoke of the past when Tracey was stationed on Romulus as a Cadet. They also spoke about how they could, maybe, set an example for the Romulan Empire and the Federation to work together towards a more trustworthy coexistence. Upon arrival to the camp, Tracey and Tal'Aura entered his abode and continued to talk and laugh about the past, over a bottle of Romulan ale well into the night.:: ((Later)) TOWNSON: ::putting her empty glass on the small table in front of her:: I really must be going, Commander. Tomorrow I will introduce you to my superior officer and perhaps we can work on a dialog between the Federation and the Empire. If that could work out well here, perhaps it would spread throughout the quadrant. TAL'AURA: ::smiling:: And bring a piece of our universe into this one. And hopefully make us feel better about all the shameful things we have had to do in our careers, and do at least one thing good. TOWNSON: ::smiling:: Exactly. ::Tracey stood up and stood at attention:: TAL'AURA: Have a good rest Commander. TOWNSON: ::looking ahead without flinching a muscle:: You as well Commander. TAL'AURA: ::pause:: Dismissed. ::Tracey left the small building and headed out into the night. As she walked further away, she hummed the tune that was given to her by her bartender friend on DS 17, Jack. Tracey smiled all the way to her temporary lodgings, and she had a skip to her step, despite the muddy conditions under her boots. Hvaid Tal'Aura stood and picked up the two glasses, and as he was heading to put them away to be cleaned, his door opened and Arrhae entered and closed the door behind her.:: ARRHAE: I thought she'd never leave. TAL'AURA: You really should knock. ARRHAE: And wake up the whole neighborhood? ::Arrhae went to a small desk, opened up a drawer and pulled out a hyposyringe, rolled up her sleeve and placed the syringe on the inside part of her wrist and pushed down. Arrhae winced and clenched her fists as the welts in her arm began to disappear. She then replaced the syringe and went to sit down.:: ARRHAE: So? does she believe you? TAL'AURA: So far. Everything is going just according to plan. Except... ARRHAE: Its going to happen. Don't worry Hvaid. TAL'AURA: So far its only us who are getting sick. ARRHAE: It may take awhile, but they will. TAL'AURA: But we are dying. Not them. ARRHAE: Patience, my dear Hvaid. ::standing up and taking him around the waist:: Patience. TAL'AURA: I did overhear from their camp in the jungle that they have sent crew back to their ship. ARRHAE: ::smiling and looking up at he lover:: Excellent. And infected crew as well. TAL'AURA: Hopefully soon, Arrhae. Or else all this would have been for nothing. ARRHAE: Shhhh ::embracing the man:: We'll make them pay for what they did to Romulus. And they'll suffer for it for years to come and throughout the quadrant. And we, will have the only antidote. ::looking towards the desk:: TAL'AURA: Does anyone else know? ARRHAE: Not a soul. Everyone thinks I'm Federation friendly. TAL'AURA: Good. And we're about to get friendlier. That undercover agent on Earth sure did perform wonders retrieving that material from Starfleet Medical. Rest his poor soul. ::smiling:: I'm happy her doctor took terrific notes. ARRHAE: I must get back to my rounds before someone suspects something. ::And with that, the two embraced one more time and Arrhae continued going door to door to check the conditions of those in the camp before she herself headed to bed.:: ((Timewarp - A few days later - Bilire IV)) ::Tracey ran. She ran as fast as she could. With each footfall to the muddy ground, Tracey counted the seconds. She knew she would not make it to the conference on time, and being late was never Tracey's way. But Tracey had a second chance, to right a wrong she did years earlier. Even if it meant a poor mark on her service record, Tracey was not about to do once again what she did years earlier.:: ((Time-Warp - City of Solius - Romulus - Otherverse - Years Ago)) Tal'Aura: Beautiful evening, isn't it? ::Tracey had just finished work at the office and she was sitting at an outdoor terrasse at a Romulan version of a cafe. All day, Tracey had seen the sunlight beat in through her office window, and she knew that after her day of work, she wanted to relax. The Romulan Cafe was just on the ground level of the offices she worked at. Tracey was sitting, enjoying the setting sun of this alien planet as the Romulan soldiers patrolled the streets. This was a bustling, military city, where 90 percent of the soldiers were Romulan. The other 10 percent was made up of a mix of different alien species, with her being one of them. Humans who were assigned to Romulus were dispersed all over the planet. Since her arrival, Tracey only counted a handful of humans assigned to the city of Solius. And only about three times that amount who were members of Starfleet.:: ::Looking up from her PADD, Tracey squinted through the setting sun over the man's back. Placing her hand over her brow to protect her eyes, Tracey looked up and smiled.:: TOWNSON: Why yes it is. ::gesturing towards a seat opposite from her:: Would you care to join me, Commander? TAL'AURA: Why thank you Cadet. ::pulling out the chair and sitting down:: ::Tal'Aura ordered a drink and when it arrived, he took a sip.:: TAL'AURA: Still working I see. ::gesturing towards Tracey's PADD:: TOWNSON: Just studying, Commander. ::Tracey watched as the well-built Romulan sitting across from her took another sip. Tracey found him to be quite handsome, and if her situation would have been different, if Tracey was not with Jaxx, Tracey would have probably tried her luck. But She also knew it was completely inappropriate to think the way she did. But her loneliness of being away from her Betazoid boyfriend for so long, and the lack of any relationships in her environment, Tracey found herself to be flirting with her superior officer. To Tracey, it was as if there was an internal battle between her brain and her body. And up until today, her brain had won out. But all that was about to change.:: TAL'AURA: Very good, Cadet. I am very proud of your progress thus far. TOWNSON: Thank you, Commander. Tal'Aura: Please, Cadet. In there, ::referring to the office building they both worked in:: my name is Commander Tal'Aura. Out here, my name is Hvaid. ::smiling:: TOWNSON: ::placing her PADD on the table in front of her and looking at the Romulan with a mischievous smile:: Thats very unprofessional of you, Commander. TAL'AURA: ::feigning a broken heart by holding his hands to his chest:: My, my. Are you going to report me, Cadet. TOWNSON: ::smiling:: Only to say that you are one of the best teachers I've ever had. And only if you stop calling me Cadet. TAL'AURA: ::taking one last sip then putting his empty glass on the small round table.:: Then we have an agreement. ::Tal'Aura looked around the landscape of the city before returning his gaze on Tracey.:: TAL'AURA: Have you had the chance to tour this city, yet, Tracey? TOWNSON: ::nodding:: I took the primary tour upon arrival and I have walked around the center core near my place. Why do you ask? TAL'AURA: Well I know this city very well. My grandmother used to live here. I used to visit quite often as a child. I know places here the tour guides would never show you. TOWNSON: Is that so, Hvaid. TAL'AURA: Would you like me to show you? TOWNSON: ::smiling:: Yes. Since I've come to Romulus I find it all to be quite enchanting. I would very much like to see the rest of the city. ::And with that, the two stood up and left the little table at the cafe and walked. The two walked for hours throughout the evening, as soldiers wound past them at every turn. They went into various shops and tried different local treats. Tracey practiced her Romulan with each shop they'd enter and look around in. The two laughed and spoke the whole evening through, despite the ever present backdrop of the familiar war-zone they both lived in. Several hours later, the two found themselves on top of a mountain on the edge of the city, looking down at the city lights, while sitting on a bench.:: TOWNSON: There! That's it! ::pointing to building in the distance:: TAL'AURA: No, no! That's it! ::pointing to another building close to the one Tracey was pointing to:: I'll bet you dinner that's the one. ::smiling:: TOWNSON: No...Look at the markings on the roof. That is our office building over there. TAL'AURA: Oh...yeah. I guess you are right. ::smiling and looking at Tracey.:: It looks like I owe you dinner. TOWNSON: ::looking up at Tal'Aura and smiling:: Yes you do. ::On the bench next to theirs, a young Romulan couple were embracing one another.:: TAL'AURA: Young love. TOWNSON: ::looking towards the shadowed couple then back to the city lights:: Yes. TAL'AURA: How is Jaxx? TOWNSON: ::without averting her eyes from the lights below:: Far away. TAL'AURA: You miss him. ::Tracey just nodded.:: TOWNSON: I hate this war. TAL'AURA: Don't we all. It makes us all feel very lonely. TOWNSON: ::turning to look at Tal'Aura:: Is there someone special in your life, Hvaid? TAL'AURA: ::shaking his head and looking down to the ground:: I have put all my efforts into the military. I had no time for much else. I had to work hard to earn the rank of Commander at such a young age. Plus with the war...::trailing off:: TOWNSON: I know. You can find that one special person one day, and loose them the next. ::The couple at the opposite bench stood up and walked away hand in hand as Tracey and Tal'Aura watched them leave. Tal'Aura turned to look at Tracey and their eyes locked for a minute. Tal'Aura gently took Tracey's hands in hers and Tracey didn't pull back. She knew what would happen next, and for the first time in years, Tracey allowed her body to overrun what was going on in her head. Tracey took a deep breath, and the two embraced.:: ((Later)) ::A light misty rain was coming down over the city of Solius, as Tracey an Tal'Aura were walking down a lane-way, hand in hand, leading to Tracey's temporary home. When they arrived, the two stopped.:: TOWNSON: Thank you...for a wonderful evening Hvaid. TAL'AURA: And thank you too, Tracey. ::pause:: Back to work tomorrow. TOWNSON: Yes. Back to work tomorrow. ::The two kissed one last time, and then Tal'Aura started walking away. Tracey watched as the man became a shadow under the lights and then a message came through her PADD that drew her attention. Tracey quickly scanned the message which said she was being recalled from Romulus in the morning. Tracey looked up at the retreating Tal'Aura in the distance and opened her mouth to shout something. But before she did, she closed it and watched the man disappear into the night of this alien city. Tracey never saw Commander Tal'Aura again.:: ((Bilire VI)) ::Tal'Aura had been reading and the more he read, the more he was fascinated by this Starfleet Officer. The tales of battles and near death experiences were quite extraordinary. This one was not afraid of confrontation. Tal'Aura would look up from his reading once in awhile, hearing the moans of agony coming from the hospital, and he cringed each time and look towards the drawer wher the cure to the disease lay. And he would fight himself to not just take the hyposyringe and walk over to the hospital himself and cure all those suffering. But he knew Arrhae would kill him. Literally. He was under the watchful eye of the Tal'Shiar continuously. He was the chosen one to infiltrate Starfleet and introduce the "wrath". But so far, it was the Romulans who were dying. And Tal'Aura was torn man.:: ::Tal'Aura was interrupted by a knock on the door. He quickly hid his reading material and went to the door fully expecting Arrhae to be on the other side. But to his surprise, it was not.:: ::Huffing and puffing, Tracey found the door to her former superior officer's abode. She quietly chided herself for being so out of shape, despite the fact that running through mud was quite physically demanding. Tracey quickly caught her breath and knocked on the door.:: ::The door opened and Tal'Aura stood and looked down to the petite human standing in front of him. She was dirty and muddy and appeared to be catching her breath.:: TOWNSON: Hvaid. I've been ordered back to the ship. ::Tal'Aura just nodded.:: TOWNSON: I didn't want to just leave again without telling you. TAL'AURA: Well thank you. ::Tal'Aura was curious as to why the human used his first name.:: TOWNSON: I never told anyone. I...I tried to forget. It would have been impossible. TAL'AURA: ::with no clue what the human female was talking about, but nodding nevertheless:: I know. TOWNSON: Then you are not angry? TAL'AURA: If I was, I would have told you last night. TOWNSON: ::smiling:: Thank you, Commander. TAL'AURA: Return to your duties, Commander. Dismissed. TOWNSON: Aye Commander. ::Just as Tracey was about to leave the doorway, she became very weak and her world began to fade. Tracey then passed out as blood trickled out of her mouth. But she was once again caught by the Romulan and kept from falling. Tal'Aura then brought her inside and lay her down on his small couch, and placed a small saucer under her mouth to collect the blood. He then stood and looked over her unconscious body and recalled all the adversity this human had gone through in her short life. Despite her tiny frame, there was an obvious strength to the human that he admired. Besides, from the short conversation at the doorway, there appeared to be more going on than what was written in the Medical logs. Tal'Aura was just a minor Centurion in this universe and he was finally given the chance to be someone by helping in this mission. He grabbed it at the time, just to get out of the doldrums of life. But from the readings of the human lying in front of him, Tal'Aura knew he could be more, without having to kill. Without having to watch people suffer. Without thinking, Tal'Aura went to the drawer where the hypospray with the antidote rested, opened it, removed it and headed to the couch where Tracey lay. He pushed aside her long, black hair and pressed the hypospray to her neck. The audible hiss sound emerged and Tal'Aura returned the device to the drawer and then washed the blood from the human's mouth and waited till she came back to consciousness.:: ::After a few minutes, Tracey groggily sat up and looked up at Tal'Aura.:: TOWNSON: I...what happened, Hvaid? TAL'AURA: ::smiling:: I believe you may be overworked, Tracey. You should get some rest as soon as you get the chance. TOWNSON: That's never happened to me before.::sitting up:: How long was I out for? TAL'AURA: There's always a first time. You were only out for about five minutes. I gave you some smelling salts to revive you. So are you going to follow my order or not? TOWNSON: Hvaid? TAL'AURA: Your dismissed. ::smiling:: ::Tracey stood, came to attention in front of the Romulan for a moment, then turned and headed to the door. But just before leaving, Tracey turned back to face the Romulan.:: TOWNSON: Thank you once again, Commander. I will be back. TAL'AURA: I am looking forward to it, Commander. TOWNSON: This colony is lucky to have someone like you here. They could learn alot from you. You have always been the best teacher.::smiling:: TAL'AURA: oO As have you, Lieutenant Commander Tracey Townson, and that is why I could not let you die. Oo You are wearing out your stay, Commander. ::smiling:: TOWNSON: ::tapping her com-badge with her prosthetic hand:: Townson to Independence. One to beam up. ::Tracey took one last look at Tal'Aura then took a deep breath, closed her eyes and waited for the transporter beam to envelop her.:: ::Tal'Aura stood in the doorway looking at the spot where Tracey was standing seconds earlier, with a smile, then a look of shock overcame his face as he felt the blade enter his back. Then nothingness.:: ((Sickbay - USS Tiger-A)) ::Tracey stared at the Doctor, but her focus wasn't on her, but with a memory of a day where she lost more than a friend. A day she paid a price by befriending an agent who was out to destroy the Federation, she later learned. To a man she believed was her kind, from a place no one in this universe could fathom, nor would she want them to. And a day where she lost her rank, a piece of her life she held so dear, for one last chance to right a wrong she had done many years previous in a place that only existed in her own mind now.:: ::As she forced herself to contain her emotions in front of the emotional Vulcan doctor, Tracey sat with a look of shock on her face.:: TOWNSON: Tal'Aura! Fvah partrai hwi sthear i arhem? ::Velana jumped a bit as Townson shouted in Romulan. She understood the words, but the meaning behind them escaped her.:: VELANA: ::frowning:: Who is Tal'Aura? What did he do to you? ((Bridge - USS Atlantis - Present)) ::Still staring at the two hips on the main viewscreen, Tracey whispered words in the Romulan dialect.:: TOWNSON: What have you done now? ::Suddenly her panel beeped, the prefix codes for the USS Chistopher Pike was found. She turned and faced Commander Mitchell.:: TOWNSON: Commander. I have the prefix codes for the Pike. MITCHELL: response -TBC- Lt. Commander Tracey Townson Intel USS Atlantis

((Unknown location)) ((Several days later)) ::How long had he slept? How many hours? How many days? He tried opening his eyes, fearing the glare of light would burn them, but they only saw a soft red ambience all around. His neck hurt when he tried to turn it to the side, the ligaments and tendons taut with strain. He winced, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he took half of the room he was in into view. He was on a four-poster bed lined with burgundy satin sheets and draped with matching heavy drapes. The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, as if left behind by a retreating visitor. The walls were plastered with ornate wallpaper, of various motifs and of various red hues. On the deep brown wooden bedside table a single white candle burned radiantly, casting mirthful shadows across the room, its wax spilling over like ivory locks. A vellum-bound printed book lay beside the candle, but from his position, Emerson could not read what was inscribed on the cover. He turned his head to the other side, a slow and painful process. He tasted crusted lacerations on his lips with the tip of his tongue. A man sat in a chair beside his bed.:: MAN: Hello. ::He was Gabriel. He recognized the voice. He remembered it despite bloodied, swollen and tattered ears. He also remembered the words that spilled out ice-cold from Gabriel’s mouth. “My name is Gabriel. I am here to take care of you, Quinn.” His heart pounded furiously inside his chest like a bat that had flown in through an open window and gotten trapped inside a room. He struggled to speak, his throat parched and raw as if he had swallowed brambles. A few helpless words escaped his bruised and bloodless lips.:: RAVENSCROFT: I.. am not.. Quinn. ::Gabriel sat with one leg crossed over the other in an enormous Louis XVI chair adorned with intricate upholstery. He was as calm as the candle-flame, barely flickering. His black hair, slicked back and greasy, and his black suit, pants, tie and shoes made his milk-white alabaster skin almost glow in the gloomy red room. His voice, when he spoke, was just as smooth as his youthful skin.:: GABRIEL: We know. Please accept our apologies for the error. ::Emerson felt the life-force sucked out of him. The room grew frigid in a heartbeat. Surely this must be a vile dream, he consoled himself in vain. The pain, oh the excruciating pain, all that pain.. simply because they thought he was his dead brother? His mind threatened to whirl out of control, out of sanity, almost.. but his dead brother’s name anchored him to reality.:: RAVENSCROFT: What do you want.. with Quinn? GABRIEL: It does not matter now. ::The man’s face was a statue made of marble. His sharp black eyes were just as cold and emotionless. Emerson tried to push himself up, up against the headboard. Every muscle and bone in his body screamed with agonizing pain.:: RAVENSCROFT: It matters to me. GABRIEL: ::sighing deeply:: Suffice to say, your brother owes us. RAVENSCROFT: ::gritting his teeth through the pain:: What do you mean? Owes? You mean owed.. He’s.. dead. ::It hurt even more to hear himself say those words.:: ::Gabriel stood up, lithely and silently and turned his back to Emerson. He was a small man, slim and light-boned. His tailored clothes fit him well.:: GABRIEL: Your brother is not the man you think he is, Emerson. RAVENSCROFT: I asked you, what do you mean? ::The strength of his voice was returning, rapidly, fueled by anger and confusion and a severe lashing of long-forgotten memories.:: Why are you after Quinn? What has he done?? GABRIEL: I have told you, Emerson. It does not matter now. We will continue our search for Tarquinn Ravenscroft. I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience we have caused you. RAVENSCROFT: Sorry? You’re sorry?! ::He forced himself silent by biting down on his tongue. After several seconds, he exhaled, long and hard.:: I told you, Quinn is dead. You’re wasting your time looking for him. GABRIEL: ::stopping to turn his head, just slightly:: Is he, Emerson? ::He turned back and continued towards the door.:: ::His heart stopped. What does the response mean? Is Quinn.. alive? Who is Gabriel and who are “we”? He had questions, many questions, spinning and roiling inside his mind like a storm of moths under a full moon. But only one came out of his mouth.:: RAVENSCROFT: Why haven’t you killed me yet? ::His voice was flat and cold, devoid of all life and hope.:: ::Gabriel opened the door, twisting the brass Victorian doorknob, the hinges squealing and whining like piglets led to the slaughterhouse. He stopped at the doorway. Turning, he cast Emerson a deadly gaze. Deadly, because of the faintest flicker of a smile on an otherwise cold statue.:: GABRIEL: You are no longer ours to deal as we please. You belong to the lady now. She procured you from us with a handsome price. Seems like you are just as desperately wanted as your brother. Good day, Emerson. ::He slipped out the door like a shadow, leaving it ajar and leaving Emerson frozen in a state of bewilderment, still plagued by a swarm of questions. And amidst that daze of confusion, he heard the distinct sound of soft rustling and light footsteps striking the floorboards, drawing closer to the doorway. It was a familiar sound, a sound from the distant past, a sound he could not quite place yet was right there, dancing and teasing on the tip of his memory. The scent of jasmine grew stronger, wafting into the room, stirring shadows and memories and turning his blood to ice. For once, the candle-flame trembled, terrified of things yet to unfold. He remembered now. He remembered all too well. He remembered the sound of rustling taffeta and chiffon, the bewitching scent of the midnight blossoms. He remembered her.:: TBC ================================ Lt Emerson Ravenscroft Xenolinguist USS Atlantis NCC-74682 as simmed by Captain Raj Blueheart