Episode 1.2.2: USS Resurrection

== S1, E2, Act 1: Settling In ==
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Fearless holodeck-briefing room
Stardate 1901.06
She listened to Commander Railius report on the sim, as if she needed to explain herself why the sim was done the way it did. Mayla had no problems with it. Sim or not, every situation presented needed to be taken seriously as if was happening for real. That will be the point of every holosim they work on from then on.
As Railius finished up, Mayla took note of the overconfidence her XO had in the enemy, which was a dangerous aspect when confronted with one in battle. The key to confronting any enemy is to never expect the expected. That type of thinking locks their mind into a box when you believe you know your enemy. Mayla wanted her team to be able to handle any situation, with any enemy known or not. Even seen or unseen. A battlespace is always fluid, and when opportunity presents itself, it should be adapted to and taken advantage of.
She stood up and activated a screen behind her, starting off with each team member's deployment, and using the available resources to accomplish a goal. She took the team through each scenario with each member of the team's perspective, so each person's actions and decisions made are evaluated and commented upon. Even though the sim didn't have the entire team work together, it showed what they can do if given the resources. Future holosims will focus more on learning each other's strengths and abilities so the group can function as a single organism.
WIth various input from Railius and Mayla, they both understood not everyone present was a raw cadet and cannot be treated as one. Mayla gave them reign when they spoke up from their own experiences and expertise concerning various situations that occurred during the sim, including Mayla and Vala's tactics. The debriefing wound down just as Admiral MacLeod walked in.
Lt. Daryl Thompson and Commander Mayla Vree
USS Fearless at Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.06
Mayla stood passively on the bridge looking at the Vigilant class escort. She'd seen one before, but not with this configuration. Her subvocal controller buzzed lightly notifying her a change in her duty status. She pulled out a padd and activated the screen to project the data to her eyes' data lens. Her new clearance access to the specifications of their new ship appeared in the air in front of her as she mentally scrolled through the schematics and the new equipment that was unique to this ship. She looked over to the Admiral and gave him a nod of acknowledgement before walking back to the turbolift. She ordered the lift to take her to the shuttlebay on Deck 9. She wanted to take a look at the Talon class fighter. Just as the doors were about to close, a voice yelled out to her.
“Commander Vree?” Daryl said, almost awkwardly.
Mayla pushed the button to reopen the door to let him in. When the doors did close and the lift started moving, he fidgeted slightly in his stance.
“Lieutenant?” She asked, noticing his discomfort.
The last time he saw her she was 8 years old. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He knew of the eight-year-old Mayla Vree at the time. But the last time he saw Commander Mayla Vree was when he had ‘died’ on his last Bravo Squad mission to Paris, France on Earth. Only because of the advanced medical tech she brought with her from the future that he was standing here today. He owed her his life. But what kind of life had it been since then? For him, it was his past. For her, it hasn't happened yet for another few years.
“I just wanted to talk with you,” he paused for a moment as his memory of her came back to him clearly now. She looked almost exactly like the last time he saw ‘her’. It suddenly caused him to be unsure of what he was going to say. “About who I am.”
This caused Mayla's manner to turn stern as she folded her arms across her chest and took a stance. “Okay, tell me who you are. Because I already know the Daryl Thompson who tried to destroy the USS Revenant, attempted to kill my father and godmother, abandoned Bravo Squad, filed a falsified report to Admiral Sorvek claiming the Revenant was destroyed along with all hands, joined Section 31 after they broke him out of prison, infiltrated Shadow Ops HQ and cold heartedly assassinated a Starfleet captain by completely melting her head with acid, starting with her face.”
The list was long and it made him wince inside. He had just recently read his doppelganger’s file and was ashamed that any part of him would perform any of those acts. “That wasn’t me and you know it.”
Mayla’s face softened along with her tone of voice. “I know that wasn’t you. That was a clone of you that Kyril had missed when he destroyed everyone else’s clone at that facility. I know about Paris, and that was a long time ago for you. Alot has happened since then.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “So, Daryl, tell me who you are.”
Daryl was taken aback by her maturity and depth of what she said. He was 16 years her senior, but she sounded much older than her current 28 years. In fact, she sounded just like her father. He could almost hear him say the very same words to him under the same circumstance. Twenty years seemed to have really grown on her beyond the years she’s actually lived. He remembered when they first met on that fateful mission to infiltrate the Federation Council Building. At that time, she was HIS senior in age and rank. Now seeing her again, she was again senior to him, if only in rank. Fate had a twisted sense of humor for this universe.
Daryl needed a few moments to arrange his thoughts. He cleared his throat and looked at his superior. "I am...I have changed...Those years at the mining colony took their toll. " Daryl struggled to keep his emotions under control. After these years, and even after intense mental training and therapy, it was still hard to talk about all what happened.
"It was hell there. We had to work in endless shifts. 16 hours of work a day, 8 hours of sleep. Day in, day out. We barely got proper food and if you got ill, you were simply left behind in the tunnels deep under the surface or simply killed by on of the guards. We were tortured, just for the fun of it. More than once, the installations broke down and we couldn't get back to the surface. We suffered from the intense heat, the lack of oxygen and toxic gases. There were many riots, but they were suppressed quickly with heavy weaponry. More than once, the whole place was covered in blood. I've seen so many people dying in there. So much pain and agony It's a miracle I survived that long." Daryl almost whispered. With the images, the emotions raged through him. Anger, Fear. Hopelessness. He closed his eyes for a moment. He felt the emotions subside to a level he could cope with, as the neural chip, implanted in his brain, released synthetic neurotransmitters.
Mayla looked at him. "Are you ok?" she asked. Daryl nodded, mustering himself and continued.
"When I eventually returned home, I collapsed. I suffered from PTSD, obviously. I had mental training, therapy, and about a dozen of Vulcan mind melds. In the end, they placed a neural chip in my brain, to keep my emotions in check. It releases neurotransmitters in my brain to ease the emotions. I am still doing mental exercises every day and I have special programs which I run through with an EMH to rearrange these experiences to give them a place in my life."
Daryl sighed again. "What I want to say is...since I got back, I haven't been on any field missions. So I don't know how I would react under pressure and with lives at stake. I just think you ought to know that. I don't want to create any situation where the team is endangered because I collapsed." Daryl looked at Mayla, almost pleading with his eyes to understand where he was coming from.
Of course, Mayla saw it. Her lifetimes of experience can read what the eyes can only tell. “I’m sorry you had to endure all that you have. I’ve been where you’ve been. If you remember, Bravo Squad rescued me from the Dominion forced labor camp-Purgatory. And I was almost eight years old at the time.” She took a deep breath and let it out. It was a long time ago, and she’d long since have learnt to deal with the pain of what she saw at that young age. She still remembered vividly the images of her parents’ death. “I don’t know how much you remember from that mission, but prior to my rescue, my parents were tortured to death in front of me. It made me catatonic, unable to speak to anyone to save my life, or my soul. It took me more than eight months for me to speak again, and that was only because of the love and support I received from my newly adopted parents, Kyril and Linsayla.”
Daryl looked at his feet, feeling a bit more remorseful. “I’m sorry about Linsayla and Nilani.”
Mayla gave him a look of appreciation. “It was a long time ago, and it was an accident. My point is, regardless of how old you are, it could still take a village of experiences to help put away the demons and nightmares. The mental disciplines can sometimes only block that which you remember. But our emotions built upon those memories will always be there. It’s like walking into your grandmother’s bedroom, not remembering the bedroom itself, but suddenly you smell the perfume she used to wear, and the memories and emotions come back. Or like walking into your empty childhood home and suddenly smelling the food your parents used to make. It takes time to settle the demons in our own minds.”
Daryl nodded, understanding most of what she was saying. “I just don’t want to let the team down or get somebody killed because I froze.”
Mayla gave him a reassuring nod. “Well, you did well enough in sim today. How about I give you some of Bravo Squad’s old holosims Kyril used to run. I’ll ask Jahkar to evaluate your outcomes, and we’ll work together to get you back on your feet. I suggest you start as soon as you can muster up the strength to. I don’t know what Admiral MacLeod has in store for us, but we have to be ready. YOU need to be ready for whatever he throws at us. And today, you showed some courage and duty.”
Daryl nodded again, unsure of what his reaction was going to be going into real combat again. Well, he would find out soon enough. He felt reluctant though, as the only training he did was surviving and working. He did learn a few new tricks and techniques along the way. They would come in handy in the coming missions. He decided that it was time to shake off the unsureness and doubts. MacLeod had chosen him above dozen others. And so he had to be in good shape. Also, he would try hard to undo the unbelievably bad things the clone had done.
"I will do better than my best," Daryl said firmly looking at Mayla. "I won't disappoint any of you." Daryl sighed. Something else was on his mind. Mayla noticed it, once more. She was usually very astute.
"Something else bothering you, Daryl?"
Daryl nodded. "I am wondering what happened to the old members of Bravo Squad. "I tried to dig it up, but I couldn't find any of it. Perhaps you know what happened to them?" Daryl looked at her, curious for the answer.
She cocked her head to one side and then shook her head. “No, I don’t know what’s become of them after Shadow Ops was shut down. I’ve only been in sparse communications with my father for the past 7 years, and every time I query him the automated return message always said he was on an assignment and is unreachable.”
Daryl nodded "Same here. I haven't got any reply from him. Not even the automated messages...nor from any other team member. Seems like they just vanished " He folded his arms across his chest. "For some reason I think I am privileged to know what happened to them. I know that's purely based on emotions, but still. I contacted Admiral Sorvek a few times, but he didn't tell either. Maybe Admiral MacLeod can tell me more."
Mayla looked at Thompson. "You can try. But don't hold your breath." She answered. “If they won’t even tell me where my own father is, your chances are probably even less of finding out where they are. Better to focus on the here and now, rather than a past you didn’t live.”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Fearless at Ops Base One
Stardate: 1901.07
T’Aayla focused on controlling her facial reactions as she viewed the specifications for the Resurrection.   It was possibly the closest ship to a Rihansuu war vessel that the Federation had produced.  
She’d spent the past ten years fighting on, and commanding cloaked vessels in the Rihansuu fleet, and before that she’d spent years on the USS Fearless which had possessed one of the first of the Federation’s phased cloaking devices. She would definitely feel at home on that vessel. From it’s lack of “weak and soft” Federation amenities, to it’s likely maneuverability, to it’s sleek design lines, she itched to get behind the controls and see just what the vessel could do.  Back on Ch’Rihan, she’d been called the ‘Shadow Hawk’ for her piloting abilities and skill in fighting with a cloaked vessel. She allowed herself to experience a warm memory from her time there, where she had spent time with her captor, who had turned into her mentor, and ultimately a foster father figure.
T’Aayla lay on the grass, looking up at a perfect Ch’Rihan sky. It was slightly greener than Earth’s atmosphere, but the puffy white clouds were perfect imitations of Earth’s cumulus clouds. She however wasn’t thinking of Earth, only of the moment.   Above her, several Rihansuu hawks soared freely. Next to her, her master also laid, also looking up at the same sky and same hawks.  It was a rare moment of relaxation and peace as they observed the free-wheeling avians on Raillius’ estate.
Minutes floated by, as both silently watched the display of acrobatics in the air. She felt honored that he had accompanied her on one of the walks she liked to take whenever she was planetside and she had free time.  For years she had wandered these grounds, occasionally joined by her master, but mostly alone.  Above them, the hawks had gained altitude and were barely visible. Several other birds, hawks of a different species, now flew above her at a lower altitude.  She felt Raillius lightly brush her hand with his, getting her attention.
“Watch closely,” he commanded, indicating the birds above. “We are lucky to be here this time, this day.  It is rare these creatures find themselves occupying the same airspace. They are both aggressor species, and they both hate each other.  There will be a battle.  Learn from it.  We are even more lucky that their odds are matched well, it will not end quickly. These battles can sometimes last for hours.” As usual he was right.  Within seconds, the three hawks at high altitude started an approach toward the four down below.  A minute later saw the seven birds in a fearsome battle, each hawk maneuvering to strike its enemies with its own talons, or beak. T’Aayla watched mesmerized.  It was beautiful, awe inspiring. The power and grace of the birds was unparalleled.  
As T’Aayla watched the hawks, Raillius watched her.   He observed her attention, her unblinking fixation on the birds.  So much like me, he thought, remembering his youthful days spent watching similar battles. After several minutes, he got up to a sitting position. T’Aayla moved to follow suite but he bid her stay on the ground and to continue watching.     He sat at her head, and looking down into her eyes smiled, “Another lesson little one.  Watch the hawks closely.”  After several seconds, he reached down and covered her eyes with his hand. “When I remove my hand, sense where they will have moved.” He counted to three and moved his hand away.
She looked at him, a slight smile on her lips.  
“Watch,” he told her, indicating the hawks.  After several seconds, he again covered her eyes, and then uncovered them. “Were they where you expected?” he asked.  Before she could answer he instructed her, “No need to answer.”   
He repeated the move over, and over, again for the following hour and a half.   He judged her success by the amount her slight smile or frown appeared after each uncovering. Finally, the last enemy hawk was dispatched and the two survivors found perches in several solitary nearby trees. By the end of the battle he had observed her smiling very often. 
She sat up, watching him closely.  This time he smiled. “My father did the same for me,” the elderly Rihansuu patrician offered as the gratitude radiated from her face. “It is very useful in a battle with cloaked ships.  When your eyes are covered, it is as if the birds are cloaked.  If you can sense where they will be, you will do the same with a steel enemy in the void of space. You can also apply it to your own movements. Do not be where you are expected to be.  It was many times before I was able to smile as much as you did little one. I believe you have an innate three dimensional spatial computational ability in that head of yours. It is gratifying to see.” 
“Thank you,” T’Aayla whispered, smiling, emotional.
Raillius judged his actions, measured his own emotions, and with a slight movement opened his arms enough for an invitation.   She was there, hugging him for the first time, her head on his shoulder. He gently placed his arm on her back. “No, thank you little one,” he replied, his eyes skyward and fighting back an unwanted emotional tear.  He had done the same with his own biological daughter when she was younger. While nothing could quite ever replace the void that her death had created in his heart, T’Aayla and this moment came very close. He released the grip after several seconds. “We must return,” he announced indicating the moment was over and it was time for them to assume a formal relationship for the rest of the estate. 
T’Aayla snapped back to the present, quickly checking to see if anyone had noticed her momentary distraction.  The people she now worked with had no clue as to what she had been through the past ten years, neither the agony, nor the redemption…Only MacLeod had any inkling, and that, only superficial. Her story was complicated, and she fought the ever-present raging and conflicting emotions within her.  She nodded to herself, yes… yes, this ship was worthy of her, perhaps not as overpowered for its size and maneuverable as her late benefactor, Senator Raillius’ personal shuttle had been, but this ship was also larger, more powerful. It would be a worthy ship. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on it.  
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
Lt. Ryramorl Ra'yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.08
Ryramorl saw the flash of a smile on T'Aayla's face and almost thought he recognized it from somewhere.  When she said she'd been on Fearless ten years ago under a Gorn Captain Sortha, it nagged his mind, and he looked closely at her.  She looked familiar.  Moreover, she acted earlier as if she’d met Ryramorl before, though Ryramorl knew full well he’d never served under a Romulan.  And then there was the question of her scent--she didn’t quite smell Romulan either, but had a whiff of something else, like some of the Human/Vulcan hybrids he’d met.
After the others had left, Commander Raillius came up to the big Carnora.  "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?" she asked, coolly.
Ryramorl took a deep breath, taking in the Romulan's scent.  Now that she stood near, with few others close by, he could tell that, yes, there was something familiar there.  He looked carefully over her face, taking in her features, imagining if they’d been altered (as some on his homeworld were wont to do if they made an Oath of the Dead yet survived).  He decided to gamble everything and said politely, "Forgive me, Commander Jamie Marcus.  I did not recognize your scent."
At first it looked as if the Romulan woman had turned into a Vulcan, her face went so emotionless, and Ryramorl wondered if it was perhaps going to be a very long cruise indeed, but after several seconds she smiled.   “It is good to see an old team mate again,” she reached out and grasped his paw firmly, “but Jamie Marcus died ten years ago, at least for all intents and purposes.  She died in the Hermes belt in a battle because the Federation acted as cowards.”   He saw the intensity in her eyes even if her face betrayed little emotion, and her scent appeared agitated.   “We should discuss it over several bottles of Rihan kheh’irho.”   Now her eyes narrowed and a slight grin appeared “If you’re up for it.”
“Ah,” said Ryramorl in complete understanding, gripping her hand in return.  “I have seen it amongst my own, that those who have been through a great trial would declare themselves dead, and become as a new person.”  Amongst his people, it usually took a special ceremony, but sometimes that was skipped if a person had been missing a long time.  “I’ll be careful not to call you Marcus, then.  Amongst my people, using a Dead Name is very disrespectful.  And I’ll have to double-check what effects Rihan kheh’irho would have on me. It could be as strange as those Ronjaro juice seems to have on humans,” he replied, a slightly sour look on his face.  “The Federation claims it’s a narcotic, my people KNOW it’s a delicacy.”
Before she left, Ryramorl gave her a wicked grin.  “Commander--if anyone else refers to you by your Dead Name, I could demonstrate how to send someone through three different doors simultaneously, if you wish.”  Carnoras.  Always demonstrating their ferocity--as if they had to.
“That probably won’t be necessary,” she acknowledged with an enigmatic smile, then leaned in closer, “However, there might come a time when I may ask that of you.  Starfleet has rules, and sometimes those rules get in the way of accomplishing the mission.”  She slapped him in the chest with a surprising amount of force for a small humanoid, “I am heartened by having a strong and dependable warrior by my side.”      
Ryramorl didn’t even flinch at the force of the blow, though a slight twitch in his whiskers let her know that he definitely felt it.  “I hope to honour my people and my OverKing in my service to you,” he said formally.
“Of that I have no doubt.”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.09
She walked away from the exchange with the huge Carnora with mixed emotions.  It was good having a team-mate that she had worked with before, but it brought complications.  Hell, she lived in a world of complications.   She shouldn’t even be here, she should be laying low.  If it became known in the Empire that the now somewhat famous and heroic T’Aayla Praiin Raillius was formerly Jamie T.  Marcus, there would be some fallout, perhaps serious if not handled correctly.   She’d have to start engineering a plan for that eventuality.  Senator Raillius had always taught her to plan for every eventuality, to be meticulous in preparation, and to execute flawlessly when the time came.  Such was the way of true Rihansuu.  She’d have to watch her actions, not only in light of the Federation, but also in terms of any effect it would have on her family on ch’Rihan.   Her plan would use aiki-jujitsu on her family’s opponents to turn her former human status into a plus.  Certainly, the transformation that the Senator had accomplished in her was something that could be spun to advantage.    
Back on the Fearless, Jamie Marcus hadn’t been particularly close to the big Carnora, as they had only served together a relatively short time, and she remembered as having found his ways somewhat odd.  But now, the fact that they both represented two very distinct alien cultures to the Federation enabled her to appreciate him more.   She was different now.  She was not of the standard human-dominated Federation. Like Ryramorl, she was a bit on the outside.  Her new perspective allowed her to see him in a different light.   Was that what her mentor had seen in her back on ch’Rihan all those years ago?   The ability to learn a new perspective through her eyes?  She enjoyed a spark of enlightenment.   The ability to see actions through the lens of two cultures had benefited her and continued to benefit her, allowing her to see things she wouldn’t have been able to see before.  It was… satisfying.    She wondered if that was what the Senator enjoyed every time he made a breakthrough with her.   She forced herself to stop being so analytical and smiled to herself- yes Senator Raillius had been all that, calculating, a master of strategy, insightful, but deep down… she smiled, he saw her as the daughter he would have had, if his hadn’t been killed.   She allowed the warm glow of that thought to suffuse her body, as she walked through the cold and gray base that was to be their home.      
Lt. Ryramorl Ra'yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.08
After his talk with Commander Raillius, Ryramorl went back to gather his equipment.  He had decided not to repaint his battle armour in Federation Colours--anyone who knew anything of the Carnora Pentarchy--or the Carnora Republic that came before it--would recognize the symbols and know to fear them.  Anyone who didn’t know them would see his predatory tusks, sharp claws, and know to fear THOSE.
He felt a rumble and heard an announcement:   "We have completed docking procedures. Crewmembers are now free to disembark."  He got ready to disembark, but before he did, he put in a suggestion that Reepchip be given the same quarters as Ryramorl--Muran tended to be so social that having their own room was alien to them.
Once off the Fearless, he looked around for a terminal that might have directions to their quarters on base.
Commander Mayla Vree and Lt. Commander Vala Preet
USS Fearless shuttle bay
Stardate 1901.08
Mayla walked into the shuttle bay and stood in front of the ship Preet had brought on board with her. She admired the lines and design of the Talon class fighter, and briefly wondered why the Admiral brought it on board along with Lieutenant Commander Preet. But in light of the recent holosim, she was able to see nearly firsthand what this ship was capable of.
“Commander Vree?”
Mayla turned to see Preet walk in behind her with a large padd in her hand. The other woman was about her height with dark hair cut in an unusual, short style. It was long on top with shaved sides. She could tell it would cover her eyes when it wasn't slicked back. She gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “Lieutenant Commander. You did well in the holosim today.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You did some fancy flying yourself.”
Mayla just waved a hand as if brushing off the complement. “I did what I had to do for us to survive. Assuming it was real, that is.”
Vala didn’t expect a coldness to the response. But after what happened during the battle with the warbirds when they didn't know it was a holosim, she couldn’t help but speculate as to the true abilities of her new CO. “I was wondering if you are related to the Commander Kyril Vree who developed the Defiant Kolvoord Maneuver?”
Mayla gave her a smile and turned away, back to looking at the ship. “Yes, that would be my father. And the last I heard he's a rear admiral now. His experience from a prior host who was a test pilot gave him excellent experience, ability, and intuition to develop new ways to fly a starship.”
Vala shook her head. “Ma’am, with all due respect, that is an understatement. He wrote a new book on dogfighting with something as big as a starship. And with the newest generation of impulse cluster drives coming out, dogfighting won’t just be for single pilot fighters anymore. Larger starships could have the agility and speed of a single pilot fighter.” Vala would have salivated over the idea of dogfighting with a Sovereign class starship if she had not just seen it in action in the recent holosim. It would have killed her to have been behind her CO to watch her perform the maneuvers she did. To be able to fly something so large but just as maneuverable as the Talon class fighter was something dreams were made of.
Mayla shook her head slowly. “They will never replace single pilot fighters. Do you know why?”
Vala slowly shook her head.
“It boils down to logistics. In a dogfight, it’s cheaper to lose one fighter and one pilot than losing an entire starship and its crew.”
That response put an immediate damper on the conversation.
“Fodder.” Vala spat. That was Starfleet's way during major battles. Send in swarms of heavily weaponized smaller ships while letting the bigger class starships move in the outer parameters of the battle until victory was near certain then the larger ships would move in and wipe the field clean of enemy ships. If victory wasn't in the cards, the fighters would return to base or be left behind while the larger ships jumped to warp. It wasn't something that a fighter pilot liked to talk about, but it was something that she insisted her students understand. You could be sacrificed for the greater good.
“Sometimes.” Mayla said. “It’s also easier to send a single fighter to perform a highly dangerous surgical task than it is to send an entire starship. But it does surprise other ships not expecting a starship to suddenly perform like an agile attacking fighter.”
Vala laughed at the notion. Then the pressing question came to her forefront after seeing what her young CO was able to do with the Fearless during the holosim. “You apparently inherited your father's piloting skills.” She had thought her role on the team was to be the pilot? But with someone already present with skills that probably surpassed her own, had she just made an assumption?
The Trill commander held a tight lip, but gave a hint about it. “I have some experience with it. Not to the degree as my father though. He’s had...more extensive experience with different types of propulsion and methods of dogfighting.” She kept out the exact degree of experience.
Vala let out a breath. “The things he could do with a Defiant or Sao Paulo class ship-” she paused as if in disbelief. “He performed the Kolvoord Starburst with five Defiant class starships! For most of us, that’s dangerous to do in a fighter. That’s why it’s banned from any flight plan. It’s not even something we can teach at the Academy. But he did it with four other pilots, which to this day is still classified." She looked at Mayla with a sideways glance. The other woman would have been young, but she was young to be a full commander and leader of an SO team. Who knew her true skills? "And after this last sim with the warbirds, I was just wondering if you-”
“-might have been one of those pilots?” Mayla now looked at Vala. “Sorry to dash your hopes. But no, I wasn’t one of those pilots. And if I was, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you anyway. The pilots were classified and sworn to secrecy.” Mayla changed the subject as she slowly walked around inspecting the ship. Vala matched her steps. "So what made you change your mind about teaching?"
"I take it you haven't had time yet to fully study my bio." Vala smiled as Mayla pointed out a few bells and whistles on the new ship. She was going be Vala's pride and joy. Fresh off the assembly line without any previous pilot's quirks programed in. "I did six week class rotations with another Starfleet Intelligence pilot. We would switch off flying special ops teams around the quadrant for missions. Sometimes, we would participate in them, especially if there was a ground or atmospheric vehicle included. It's been a while since my Shadow Ops days, but I kept the rust off over the years."
"You missed being in the field." Mayla could understand that sentiment. She'd been working behind the scenes and in the field for Starfleet Intelligence ever since she was a teenager. But the few years she was solo, the isolation from working in a team didn’t bother her. It was in her genes to be able to adapt to work in any type of environment.
Vala opened the rear hatch and waved Mayla in front of her. "To be honest, I miss being a true part of a team. I have flown almost all of the SI teams that weren't permanently stationed to a ship at one point and time. I flew some more than others, but I was still an outsider."
Mayla nodded. “Bus driver,” she said, using an ancient Earth term she learned from a former Bravo Squad member, Lieutenant Commander Antonia Reece, someone who had a great interest for late 20th century vernacular. “Drivers are just as important to the function of a team as any team member, regardless of how little they do. The lives of everyone in the team rely on those pilots to infiltrate and extract them safely and quickly. The pilots help bring everyone home alive. Don’t ever think you are never needed.”
Mayla gave her a smile as Vala continued to show off the ship. The other Trill woman was somewhat excitable. Her appreciation for the ship was present in her voice and demeanor. She was already a little possessive of it despite only controlling the ship from Earth to the Fearless. Mayla could already tell it was going to be difficult to separate Vala from the fighter. Though she would be assigned as the main pilot, everyone needed to be familiar with how to fly the ship in the event Vala was wounded or worse.
"Preet. I don't recognize that name."
"Oh, you shouldn't. I'm not joined. My family hasn't qualified for the symbiont programs for ages. We've been farmers and botanist for generations. I'm the first in Starfleet." Vala put the padd down on the small debriefing table that took up the middle space in the fighter's passenger bay. She sat in one of the seats that ringed the room. "Really, I'm the first to go off world. My family is very tied to the planet, but I always dreamed of the stars. I couldn't wait to turn 18 and qualify for the Academy."
Mayla joined her in a seat across the room. She wondered what it would have been like to dream of Starfleet as a young girl. But from an early age, she already saw the need for someone with her skills, abilities, and aptitude. Not many people knew her true nature and abilities, but enough people knew enough that Starfleet classified and controlled those like herself. Unlike Vala, she'd didn’t have much choice in the matter.
"I grew up on starbases before leaving for the Academy. I understand wanting to go out and see what's out there in the vast expanse of space." Vala grinned at the other Trill woman. It wasn't often that she encountered someone from her own race. Trills were just beginning to span out across the galaxy after hundreds of years in solitude hiding their symbionts from other races. Those who were un-joined would more readily go off world, but those who were paired would stay closer to home. It was safer for the symbiont. "Have you ever thought about becoming joined, like your father?"
Mayla shook her head. “No. Even though there is a sense of nobility and stature in the act, I already have enough going on in my head than to have to deal with lifetimes’ worth of other people’s memories.” She said it with a straight face that was well practiced over the years.
There was a rumble felt through their feet. An announcement came over the comm systems. "We have completed docking procedures. Crew members are now free to disembark."
"I'm going over and take a look at the Resurrection," Mayla said, waiting to see if Vala wanted to join her.
Vala shook her head. "I have to prep the fighter to be transfer over there." She gave her CO a smile and a nod, already deducing her hands to be itching to scope out their new ship. "You go ahead and...have some fun?"
Mayla chuckled. "As if you're also not biting at the bit to get your hands on her too. Thank you for the tour. I'll see you on the base."
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.08
Reepchip Charatetet had two thoughts upon seeing the USS Resurrection.  One was that old Muran instinct of .o0(where are the blueprints for this thing, and how can I tinker with it?)  The second was a saying he’d heard from many an Ataran sailors:  .o0(Where, by the Demons of the Deep, have the winds blown me now?!)--or at least that’s how he’d say it aloud.  If he used the actual terms an Ataran would likely use in such unlikely circumstances, it would take him a good few minutes to get through all the profanity and much, MUCH longer to explain the words and phrases to his superiors.  
He still wasn’t sure what he was doing here; he had neither pissed off Overking Rissa (that he knew of) nor done anything of great merit.  And yet the Muran Overking had sent him here, and Admiral MacLeod hadn’t sent him back.  
.o0(The King of Heaven commands the Dance of the Skies,) he firmly reminded himself.  .o0(All that happens is by His will.)
After he disembarked the Fearless, Reepchip tried to calm himself.  He carried with him his pack with his possessions.  When he found the mess hall and seeing nobody in it, He took the opportunity to do something he hadn’t done since departing from Watchtower 680:  he would meditate.  He dug into his pack and pulled out a small, six-stringed instrument.  He tuned the strings against each other, and took a deep breath, then started plucking the strings in a specific yet changing order.  Each string was named with a syllable of the King of Heaven’s true name, and he chanted those syllables when he plucked its string.  And if he was not interrupted, he would go through every one of the 720 iterations and speak the King of Heaven’s full name.
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1901.10
Mayla stepped on board the Vigilant class starship alone after going through several security checkpoints and authorizations. The first thing she did was to look at the differences between this ship and an old Sao Paulo class ship. She had spent time on the Intruder-A when she was with Bravo Squad, and to be back on a ship modeled similarly to it brought back those memories of her father and his team in her early days assigned to to the elite platoon. In fact, she had been rescued from the Cardassian forced labor camp on the Intruder 20 years ago.
There were various crew members walking about who acknowledged her, not because they knew who she was, but of her rank insignia on her uniform. No one on this ship should know who she was. She had been working covertly for so long the circle of people knowing who she was remained a very small radius. The layout of the ship was very similar to the Intruder-A, so she easily found her way to Engineering to look at the new coaxial drive. Over a dozen engineers were working in the small engineering space and she stayed on the gantry above and out of the way. She studied the new drive with the specs hovering seemingly in the air in her eyes as she read the specs and functional parameters of the prototype drive. She briefly wondered if any of the drive's tech came from Linea technology who had already perfected instantaneous translocation to anywhere in the universe.
"You still can't resist getting the lay of the land first." A deep gruff voice said slowly behind her. She turned around and saw a tall bald man in a red uniform with a captain's insignia. Looking at his face he looked vaguely familiar. Well, the left side of his face was familiar.
"Captain Lazarus?" She said, noticing the right side of his face was missing the metal appendage covering she had always associated him with. It had been replaced with what looked like the other flesh side of his face. All of his prosthetics had been replaced.
"It's good to see you, youngster," Captain Quentin Lazarus said, using Kyril’s nickname for her. He had started calling her that occasionally after she graduated from the Academy and assigned to Bravo Squad’s platoon as leader of Echo Team.
Mayla stepped forward and gave Lazarus an awkward hug. “It is good to see you too." She tapped the right side of her face. "That looks good. It's the first time you don't look like a rust bucket."
Lazarus harumphed at the joke that carried over from Bravo Squad's experience with the Quentin Lazarus of the Mirror Universe.
Mayla smiled at the gruff response and changed the subject. "What are you doing here? Are you in command of this ship?”
He gave her a nod and the gruffness turned into a smile that usually came so rare for him. "What do you think of her?"
"Until I sit at the helm and take her for a spin, I can't answer that," Mayla gave him the same pleasant smile reminiscent of when he used to scold her in reminder that she had to 'act' like a ten-year-old, when she was ten years old. "Do you think there's any Linea tech in that thing?"
Lazarus shook his head. "Your guess is probably better than mine. I've reviewed the dossiers of your new team. What are your impressions of them?"
"We went through our first holosim. They should be satisfactory. They're not all raw recruits."
"I've watched the sim. The Admiral sent it to me to give him my initial evaluation of the team. Having Jahkar, Ra'yral, and Thompson in the team again brings back a lot of old memories."
"Good and bad," Mayla said, remembering back when she trained under Jahkar's intense holosim training he created for Bravo Squad.
"And you have a Romulan XO," Lazarus said carefully.
"It is out of the ordinary, but it's not like we never had a Romulan in the Teams before," Mayla said. "Even though most didn't turn out so well."
"It only takes one to break the stereotype," Lazarus said sternly. "Although Tal'Aura was born and raised in the Federation. She was only half Romulan."
Mayla nodded, thinking back to the now Captain Sienae Tal'Aura, CO of the then ShadowOps' USS Soulseeker team before its dissolution. "We'll eventually find out what Railius is about," she said confidently.
He watched her stance and took note that she still acted so much like her adopted father. Just like a decade earlier when she spoke to him, it was as if Kyril Vree was speaking to him. “It’s good to see you’ve continued to follow in your father’s footsteps.”
“I guess there wasn’t any doubt in the matter. Kyril’s family were my only family. After Lin and Nilani died, Tylin was sent to Trill to be raised by his grandmother. It was hard on him to lose his mother and sister, and then separated from his best friend Zac. I think he's still bitter about that, even though they still keep in touch. And then there's Kyril, who went into recluse ever since Shadow Ops dissolved." She let out a light sigh. "Starfleet is my family now.”
Lazarus nodded, remembering the dark pall that befell her father when his wife and young daughter died in the accident. The demeanor of Bravo Squad changed after that unfortunate event. “How is your father? I heard he’s an admiral?”
“Yes, sir. A rear admiral, I believe. But I haven’t heard from him in quite a few years.” Mayla hid her sadness and a bit of disappointment, turning her attention back to the coaxial drive. "I don't even know where he's stationed at. Starfleet Intelligence won't tell me."
Lazarus nodded with understanding. He himself had tried to reach out to him a few times over the years, and also haven’t received any response. Any query always returned the same response; that he was on assignment and unable to respond. It was the same response from Admiral Sorvek too.
“What about your sibkins? Your Echo Team?”
“They are doing well. But they were not...imbued with those types of nurturing experiences. It’s difficult for some of them to become emotionally dependent on other people. They are operatives deep to their cores. Their engram programming from the Linea only gave them the warrior’s experiences, souls, and abilities; not the spirit of a poet, or a lover. Or even a sibling.”
Lazarus gave her a sad laugh, thinking back to her unique history. The only reason Mayla didn’t turn out like her sibkins was because unlike them, she had originally been programmed with memory engrams from the trill symbiote Vree in an emergency procedure. But soon after, she had been kidnapped from her home on Starbase Epsilon Seven to complete her engram programming with those of the highest skilled and honored Linea warriors-a human civilization who evolved separately in a different galaxy a millennia earlier. In an attempt to rescue her, Bravo Squad was captured and Kyril's memories were programmed into her to reveal sensitive information about Shadow Operations. When the situation became dire, it was Mayla herself who betrayed the Linea and saved Bravo Squad from further torture and death.
All those experiences, memories, and abilities of Vree, her father, and past warriors of the Linea became a permanent part of her very being ever since she was eight years old. Her true nature is still kept highly classified and will probably be like that for the rest of her life. Only he, her father, Sorvek, and three members of Bravo Squad knew about all of her acquired abilities and origins. Thinking in hindsight now, a highly skilled eight-year-old Shadow operative would have been interesting to deploy.
In a rare display of emotion, he put a hand, his real hand, on her shoulder. He felt sympathy for the young woman whose life has been locked into covert operations through her genetics and abilities. Was that all she was going to be in life based on the potential of all of her abilities, memories, and experiences?
All the same, he was glad to have a Commander Vree under his command again. She was one of the few persons in this universe he fully trusted.
Colonel Jahkar
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.12
Jahkar left Fearless with his bag slung over his shoulder. So they had been assigned to home base on a mining asteroid? The Klingon-Romulan smirked as he pondered their accommodations. He remembered when Shadow Ops was based on space stations or larger vessels like the Fearless, or Ticonderoga.
However, to maintain a low profile, placing them in an old mining asteroid was the perfect way to stay under everyone’s radar. From what he’d seen of the Resurrection, he was impressed. It would likely be superior to the previous escort vessels Shadow Ops had employed.
As he walked from the umbilical connected to Fearless and found himself in the mining facility, he noted the walls of the corridor were older durasteel construction. The walls were stained with age and industrial use, but they would suffice.
Before he got too far, he heard someone approaching from behind him. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Admiral Ian MacLeod approaching.
“Hold up, I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” MacLeod said.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jahkar replied. “It is good to see you again.”
MacLeod stepped up to the burly Klingon-Romulan and shook his hand. “Hell, Jahkar, we are almost family.”
The marine smiled, “I know. I just didn’t want to give that appearance to the others. How is Chas’naH?”
“She’s...well...Chas’naH,” MacLeod smiled. “She’s serving with the diplomatic corps in the Klingon Empire., which I’m sure you knew.”
Jahkar nodded, “She indicated that the last time we spoke. Which has been about five years ago.”
“You two, I don’t understand why you both couldn’t stop being stubborn and just stay together,” MacLeod shook his head. “Both of you and your damn careers.”
“She did not want to live on Earth with me while I wasted my talents training new marines,” he said, looking down. “And I did not want to go to the Empire where I would be looked down upon by the other Klingons.”
“You’re both hybrids,” MacLeod countered. “You think it’s easy for her being half-human and living on Qo’noS?”
“No,” Jahkar said. “But to be half Romulan is....something else.”
MacLeod sighed, “I know. Bloody hell. Well, for what it's worth, she asks about you whenever we talk.”
Jahkar nodded, “So, this reactivation of Shadow Operations. I get the feeling its not a popular decision? When it was shutdown the Federation Council was very specific...they wanted no more clandestine organizations running amok.”
MacLeod leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, “There’s a great deal of unrest throughout the Federation and among our neighbors. We’ve looked at it, the senior analysts, so forth, and everyone agrees this seems like a coordinated effort.”
“The unrest here and in the Klingon Empire is connected?” Jahkar asked.
“And in other governments throughout the quadrant,” MacLeod, said. He placed a hand on Jahkar’s shoulder. “I’ll say more when I brief you all later tonight. Now go, get settled in and we’ll talk more later.”
Jahkar again shook MacLeod’s hand, “It is an honor to serve with you again.”
He then took his bag and set off for the habitat area.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.12
Tiri had settled into her quarters in the old asteroid mine. She had been assigned a modest room with a bunk, a table and chair, a small desk and a restroom and shower. She wore the pants to her uniform, but had removed the jacket and shirt, leaving her in a gray tank top shirt.
The Andorian sat down at her desk and opened the desktop terminal. She keyed open a channel and within a short time was transmitting a message.
On the screen the face of another Andorian appeared. It was a young male who smiled at her as his face materialized on the viewer.
“Tiri, it is good to see you,” he said.
“Isavos,” she smiled back. “How are you, little brother?”
“I am well, all things considered,” the young Andorian said.
“Is something wrong?” Tiri asked, concern crossing her face.
Isavos frowned, “Third night of curfew in the city. The Andorian Revolutionary Front has bombed a Starfleet facility here four days ago. Then there was a bombing at a nightclub in the Capital. Andorian security hit back yesterday and took out an ARF cell yesterday, which set off riots last night.”
Tiri gritted her teeth. She knew there was unrest on her homeworld, but hearing her brother speak of it, she knew it had worsened.
“Curfew? You spend most of your nights having fun with your artist friends,” she said. “Makes it hard to get out and mingle?”
“Yes, and right now I need to make those contacts. To network with other artists,” Isavos said. “I’m what they call a starving artist, sis. I can’t make it in the art world without being out at the clubs, without being able to attend openings and seek those who will exhibit my work.”
Tiri leaned in closer to the screen, “It’s just until the attacks are over. Be patient little brother.”
Isavos sighed, “So, how have you been Tiri?”
“I’m well,” she said. “Can’t tell you what I’m doing…”
“...because you’d have to kill me, I know,” Isavos laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to know.”
“How’s mother and father?” she asked.
“Father is away on a haul,” said Isavos. “His freighter is transporting goods to the occupied Cardassian Union. Mom, she’s spending a lot of time at the university, trying to keep things there in order during the crisis.”
Tiri nodded, “Good to hear.”
“You know, mother would probably like to hear from you,” he said. “It’s been awhile.”
The ensign lowered her head, “I know...I will...in time.”
“Don’t wait too long Tiri,” Isavos said. “Well, I hate to cut you short, but I have a couple friends stopping over, before curfew tonight. I need to get ready.”
She smiled, “Enjoy. Be careful. Tell mother...tell mother I said hello.”
Isavos nodded and then the image faded. Tiri stared at the screen a long time, then finally stood up and put her uniform on before heading out to go over to the Resurrection.
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.12
As Reepchip finished his chant, he heard a much deeper voice echoing the syllables behind him, so he was not at all surprised when Ryramorl sat down across from him.
“Sir,” said Reepchip.
“We’ve been assigned our quarters,” said Ryramorl.  “If you’re ready to come.”
Reepchip nodded and followed Ryramorl to the habitat area.  Ryramorl opened the door, and Reepchip saw at once that the room had been set up for two occupants.  The top bunk was over 7’ long, but there’d been some last-minute altering to the room.  The desk and terminal took up half the space beneath the bunk; the other half was taken up by a small bedroll.
Ryramorl grinned.  “I knew you didn’t want to sleep alone, so I arranged to have you bunked with me.”
Reepchip breathed easier and bowed to Ryramorl in gratitude.
In a recess Ryramorl hung his clothes, while Reepchip folded up his and lay them on the floor of that recess.  The two took turns showering, then put on their loose-fitting uniforms--Ryramorl his old Shadow Ops uniform, Reepchip his brown many-pocketed uniform of a Carnora Fleet Engineer.
Lt. Cody Beckett
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.12
Cody was impressed. A new Vigilant class ship. He had heard about it, when he worked for Intel, and read some of the design specs. It was an impressive beast.
He had already offboarded the Fearless and walked through the corridors of the old mining station. He smiled. He felt right at home, as he had spent a significant amount of time on these kind of space stations. When time permitted, he would be interested to take a tour on the station to get to know more about it. But now, he wanted to get to have a peek at the new ship, the USS Resurrection. He arrived at his quarter, and the door opened.  He stepped inside, taking a look around. It wasn't big, but big enough for one person.
Apparently it had been refurbished by Starfleet, as it all looked all new and shiny. On the bed was his new SO uniform, neatly folded. Cody nodded. He felt a slight excitement.
He threw his duffel bag on the bed, and quickly put on his new uniform and made his way to the USS Resurrection.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Ressurection
Stardate 1901.12
The door to the main Engineering room swooshed open, and Daryl stepped inside. There where still half a dozen engineers inside, working on the last details and updates for the ship.
And there it was...the coaxial warp drive. It was smaller as he'd imagined, but nonetheless it looked impressive. From what he'd read from the specs of the ship's new experimental drive was that it could travel 10 light years a minute. That was impressive! Nowadays, most ships where able to travel on warp 9.975, but only for short times. It would take about 6,5 hrs to travel 10 lightyears on warp 9,975. This ship could do that in a minute! Daryl grinned.
He would love to see how this new ship would do the job.
Admiral Ian MacLeod
USS Fearless
Stardate 1901.13
MacLeod was in the War Room viewing several newsfeeds from the Federation about ongoing terrorist attacks and unrest on Andoria Prime. Things there were worsening and were perhaps the most volatile of all the unrest in the quadrant.
After collecting intel for several hours, he prepared his briefing and sent a message to the team. “There will be a mission briefing in the Situation Room on Ops Base One at 1600 hours. MacLeod out.”
== S1, E2, Act 2: Mission Briefing ==
Commander Mayla Vree
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.13
After Lazarus took her on a short tour of his new ship, she accepted his offer to have dinner with him that evening to catch up on their present lives. Then she received a message from Admiral MacLeod for mission briefing at 1600 hours. She excused herself from Lazarus, and quickly returned to the Resurrection to move her few duffel bags to her new billeted quarters on the Base. She didn't know where her quarters were at, so she went straight to the quartermaster's office to inquire.
"I'm looking for my assigned quarters," she said to a man in an informal work uniform that seemed too tight for him.
"Name?" he asked without looking up from the console on his desk.
"Commander Mayla Vree."
He snapped his head up. "Sorry, Commander. Didn't see you." He quickly tapping his screen.
"Is that the standard uniform on the Base, Lieutenant?" She asked, noticing his rank insignia for the first time on the right side of his chest.
"Yes, ma'am. There are a few differences in style you can choose from, but this is basically it. It allows a lot of freedom of movement as we are all here to work and not to look pretty." He pulled out a small padd and held it out to her. "Place your hand on the padd to code your DNA to your quarters."
She did as asked, and he passed her another padd. "Your billeting, and map of the Base. On there are also duty stations and rosters of everyone on the Base, per your security clearance. Access to areas are automatically determined by the computer and your clearance level."
Taking the padd in her hand, she was about to leave when he stopped her. "Wait, there's one more thing. The computer is telling me I need to recalibrate your subvocal to the frequency of your...unit. Let me have your subvoc controller."
Slipping the padd into a pocket, she slid off a slim bracelet from her wrist and handed it over to him. After a minute, he gave it back to her. He pressed a key on his screen and a voice came over her subvocal.
"Frequency programming verified and completed. Encryption Black Delta Resurrection, enabled."
"Did you hear that?" he asked. He didn't know what it said, but as long as she heard it clearly, she was done.
"Yes, I heard it."
"Very good. Is there anything else I can do for you, Commander?" He asked suddenly briskly and authoritatively.
"No, I'll be on my way."
She walked out of his office and followed the map on the padd to her quarters. She took a roundabout way to get there, so she can familiarize herself with the various parts of the Base. When she finally reached her quarters, she was surprised to see her quarters were the same size as the ones she had on Echo Base. She chuckled that her previous posting was also situated inside an asteroid belt, and that this was nothing new for her. In fact, the quarters looked nearly identical. It was the same prefabricated modular quarters all mining facilities used.
It didn't take her long to get settled into her quarters. She basically just put back where everything was stored in her quarters on Echo Base. It gave her time to study her new team's dossiers more closely before their first mission briefing together.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.13
She didn’t like the base, not one bit, and suppressed a slight shiver as she made her way through the short maze of tunnels to her quarters. The hollowed out spaces of the dusty asteroid reminded her too much of the Reman fighting pits on ch’Havran (Remus.)   The year she had spent there had been brutal and extreme to say the least.   She shook her head to remove the horrific memories of the place and focused on reaching her quarters.  She had  glanced at a schematic earlier, and wanted to test if she’d be able to make it there without checking her location again.  
In a few minutes she reached a nondescript door after travelling down several equally nondescript corridors and pressed the entry padd.  She was rewarded with the door immediately opening.   She surveyed the room before entering; a standard issue Starfleet bed, a dresser, a footlocker, a mirror, a small closet, computer terminal and a personal replicator.  The room was a beautiful gray on gray motif.   No matter, she doubted she’d spend much time in the room, and it was still larger than most Rihansuu ship cabins, although somehow her Rihansuu ship designers still seemed to make them feel elegant, albeit small and utilitarian.   Her gear was already delivered, and she unpacked it, putting everything away neatly.   She had left her S’harien blade with Senator Raillius’ shuttle in an extremely secure location, but she had brought her personal weapons, a high quality replica of her Sharien sword, and her House Raillius clothing.  
The two green and black bodysuit outfits were extremely stylish, but more importantly they were constructed of woven ablative fabric.  Each outfit was literally worth a small fortune on ch’Rihan.  Senator Raillius had always believed in possessing few things, but anything possessed had to be of the very highest quality.   He had cherished the lives of all his family and personal guard above mere wealth and had spared no expense to protect them.   She traced her hand slowly down the uniform, watching it move and ripple to her touch.  What would humans call it… perhaps something akin to…. she searched her memory of Earth culture… Mithril?   Elven armor?  She smirked, and a hand felt the tip of her ear.   Apropos then.   Her touch of her ear reminded her of a very important point in her life…
It was near the end of her second year at House Raillius that the sickness came.   Many in the household were stricken, but what was a nasty form of flu for the Rihansuu was much more to Jamie.  She nearly died within the first 24-time units of contracting the disease, and it was all the medical staff could do to prevent her from slipping into a coma.   Through chattering teeth and vomiting she remembered Raillius coming to her bedside and actually touching her shoulder in a comforting way.   She vaguely remembered him leaning down and telling her that he had something that would help her get better, then the hiss of an injection.  
It was weeks before she recovered, and she remembered waking on a sunny day in a light filled room.  She looked around and realized that she was alone, and that she felt much better than she ever remembered feeling.     
  Absently, she reached up to move her hair out of her face and was horrified to see a clump of it cling to her hand.   She reached up and gently pulled on a lock and stared at it as it slid easily out of her head.  Uncontrollably she pulled several more handfuls out and let out a scream. A nurse arrived quickly, then another, and yet another.   She was held down and given a sedative.  
She awoke sometime later to the sight of a nurse and Raillius sitting by her bedside.   Her hand reached to her head, feeling baldness.
“It’s only temporary,” Raillius said in Rihansuu, then in Terran.   “It will grow back.”
“What…what happened?” Jamie asked.
Raillius responded, smiling internally that the question had flowed naturally from her in his own language.   
  “You contracted what to us is a form of flu, but to Terrans, it is…apparently deadly.  Your immune system couldn’t cope with it.  It was killing you, until we took corrective action.”
  “Corrective action?” Jamie asked, with an edge of suspicion in her voice.   “What did you do to me?”
“We initiated DNA therapy” Raillius informed her.
“You what?” Jamie blurted out, this time in Terran.
“In order for you to have immunity to the disease, and any other disease that you come across on Ch’Rihan or Ch’Havran, we had to inject Romulan DNA into your system and initiate DNA resequencing therapy.  It will combine with your existing DNA and rewrite portions of your genetic code so that you will be able to resist what to us are simple sicknesses, but which are deadly to Terrans.”  
“Wh…what will it do to me?” Jamie asked reverting back to Rihansuu.  “Am I going to be bald?”
Raillius laughed, “No I think not.  I rather think your appearance will be improved.  I suspect your hair will regrow in a perfectly natural black color instead of that odd brownish hue you had.  And, I suspect that your ears may be more attractive as well,” he added, playfully tapping one of her ears.
Jamie bristled, but it was a bristle devoid of real anger. Resigned, she rested in bed, her eyes staring out the window.   “And the DNA?” she asked, “from whom.”
“Let’s just say it was a willing donor,” Raillius smiled.   Then his face darkened.  “You will have to continue the therapy,” he added.  “The side effects are not kind.  Until your DNA has been largely modified, you will unfortunately suffer extreme pains regularly after the treatments.   As a warrior, I suspect you can handle pain and still perform your duties.” 
“Of course,” she replied using a formal variation of the words in Rihansuu.    “How long will the injections be necessary?”
“For a full year, I’m afraid, and then occasional booster therapy after that. “  Raillius stated matter of factly.
Jamie considered the information.   “I can take it,” she asserted.   “Worse has been done to me.”
“Yes,” Raillius said softly, “Much worse has been done.”  They were silent for a time.  “And…looking a bit more like a Rihanna won’t do you any harm here either.  In fact, it should make your life much more…open.”  After Jamie remained quiet, he ventured “I also think a proper Rihansuu name is in order.  Would you accept that?”
Once more Jamie was enigmatically quiet, but eventually answered, “Yes. Yes, I think I’d like that.”   Tears welled in her eyes.  She knew her answer was in part a surrender of her former identity, a loss of hope for eventual escape, and a coming to terms with her current situation.  
“Then I shall name you T’Aayla Praiin Raillius Sharieh,”  Raillius announced, and seeing her quizzical look he continued.  The first name is your common name, your name to share.  The second name further identifies you to your friends.  The third identifies your house, and the fourth, … the fourth is not be shared with anyone and is for you alone.”  He placed his hand on hers.   “They are all honorable names.  There is no disrespect intended by the offer, nor anything negative.  Please accept them in that spirit.”  
Jamie nodded in acceptance.   “What… what do they mean?” she asked quietly.
“T’Aayla is a personal name I fancy, and someday I may venture a further explanation.  The second alludes to one of the smaller but more vicious avian predators on this planet, one of our hawk species.   Raillius of course is the name of my house and all who dwell within it share of it and are responsible to it and of it.   And the fourth is your secret name that shall not be shared with any beyond your immediate blood kin, and even then spoken of only in whispers.”
“A ‘S’harien’ is an ancient blade forged by the master weaponsmith S’harien of Vulcan from times before we ventured forth into the stars.   A very limited number of these blades are still in existence.  They were forged in the hottest fires of Vulcan with the hardest tools and by S’harien’s own hands.   They are the finest blades ever wrought in the galaxy and are valuable beyond knowing.   Our ancestors carried a number of these blades with us into space when we left Vulcan.   This name, Sharieh, meaning ‘of S’harien’ I give you in honor of your courage, your trials and your perseverance.  You, too, have left your home and traveled here, and through hardship have been forged into your current form.   As a blade is wrought, so too will you be put into the fire and then quenched.  I am sure your trials will be severe, but I hope that in the end your result will be like that of a Sharien, a bright shining blade.   It is this wish, and in this spirit in which I give you this name.”
“Thank you” T’Aayla responded, looking up.  This time her eyes were free of tears, those having already fallen to the bed.   Tears were not to fall from those eyes for many years.  
Her eyes met his and Raillius thought he detected a small glimmer of pride.  “Yes, my little hawk, he thought to himself, now you are named.      
T’Aayla snapped back to the present; dwelling on the past wasn’t productive.   She noted that Admiral MacLeod had summoned them to a briefing at 1600 hours.   Until then, she’d use her time studying the schematics of the Resurrection.   She busied herself by pouring over the technical and operation specs and designs of the Resurrection at the computer terminal.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.18
Reepchip and Ryramorl looked at the console in their room, checking out the specs on the ship.  Reepchip was impressed, but something didn’t sit well with him. “The specs say nothing about the runes on the ship,” he chittered, his tail twitching.
“It’s a Federation Ship,” Ryramorl reminded him.  “I brought up that oversight with a few of my instructors, but they never listened.  I’ll talk to Admiral MacLeod and Commander Vree--” he saw who was actually captain of this ship, a Captain Quentin Lazarus he had never met--”and Captain Lazarus about letting you do the inscriptions. They’ll have access to your transcript from Muransarak Academy, and I know how seriously Shaman-Engineer Goyakarakarak took Inscribing.”
“I was taught by the one who oversaw the Inscribing of the Five Thrones,” Reepchip said proudly.  “Even being third in his class is worth speaking of.”  He then thought of something.  “Where could we get the ink, though?”
“I’ve got a program for the replicators to follow.”  Ryramorl quirked a smile at Reepchip’s skeptical look.  “They’ll just make the ingredients and tools.  You can then make the ink properly.”
They continued to look through what they could learn of the ship when they heard of a briefing at 1600 hours.  Ryramorl stood up.  “You know, we should check if the uniform for Shadow Ops has been updated.”
At the Quartermaster's office, Ryramorl learned that there were indeed new uniforms--and not only was there one for Ryramorl, but they’d used the uniform measurements from Starfleet Academy to make one for Reepchip as well.  “And yes, they’re tailered to furred species,” assured the Quartermaster.  “Your room working out for you?”
“Excellently,” said Ryramorl.
They thanked the Quartermaster and headed back to their room to change uniforms and get ready for the briefing.  The only thing that Reepchip kept of his old uniform was the vest--and that was simply for the pockets.
Commander Mayla Vree
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.17
She had just finished perusing the specs on the Resurrection, most of which were upgraded from a Sao Paulo class ship, when a notification popped up on her screen. She had been given clearance to a new file linked to her last mission with Echo Team. Admiral MacLeod gave her and the team the access due to her participation in that mission.
She nodded to herself as she went through the few details of their holographic investigation. It didn't matter to her at the time of the mission, but the few non-Klingon energy weapons they saw were Federation based. This data said the weapons came from a Section 31 weapons cache Starfleet had discovered emptied of its contents several years ago. This was no surprise. After the demise of Section 31 and Shadow Operations, any secret cache of weapons or tech was quickly hidden away and taken out of 'service'. Anyone with the knowledge of any cache was very high priced on the black market. At one time, Starfleet energy weapons were considered inferior to other races, but in the past 10 years, that had changed. Their reliability and interchangeable parts made those weapons more popular and easier to repair and modify.
But the next few details were alarming, and she wondered if Starfleet was going to inform the Klingon High Council of their findings. Jahkar had recognized the symbol for the House of K'hmal which was considered an outlawed clan among the Klingons 20 years ago. General Krang had been the leader of the House at the time and was a war criminal now serving time in a Federation prison. But even so, the House still had a loyal following that numbered in the thousands that were secretly scattered throughout the Empire. Even some outside of the Empire. These followers of General Krang believed he should be freed from Federation prison and challenge the sitting Chancellor.
The last piece was the identity of one of the Klingons that Sh'avelith had found with a tatoo on his face. Starfleet identified him as Grumlek of the House of Karkron. He was once an agent of Klingon Intelligence who was captured by the Romulans spying on their government about eight years ago. Grumlek was imprisoned and when the Klingon High Council was advised the Romulans had captured their spy, the council disavowed all knowledge of him. As a result he spent about six years in a Romulan prison before he escaped. He did not return to Klingon Intelligence, but apparently aligned himself with the House of Krang. Now that it was confirmed of his whereabouts, it added to the story of how this particular faction came about.
So was this something that had been brewing for the past 20 years, or is this something different that's happened more recent? Is it connected somehow to other empires in the quadrant, or could the followers of this House be the catalyst that's spreading across all of the empires?
Her chronometer chimed at her, reminding her of her required presence at the mission briefing. Before shutting down her terminal, she queried the computer to continue to assemble a report with this analysis included into the parameters to look for a common element. She wanted to see how deep this could go based on this new data.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.19
It was nearing 1600 hours, so Ryramorl and Reepchip left their room and inquired at the Quarter Master’s office where the Situation Room was.  Once they got their directions, they headed there.
Ryramorl nodded to Admiral MacLeod as the two entered.  Ryramorl sat in one chair near the foot of the table and Reepchip stood in the one next to him, his tail coiling around the back for balance.  
“That Resurrection is quite the beauty,” said Reepchip.  “I’m surprised, though, that in a ship THAT high-tech and advanced, the Federation would still overlook the inscriptions.  If you wish, Admiral, as a fully-qualified Shaman-Engineer, I could do those for you.  I got very high marks in Inscribing from Shaman-Engineer Ray’eevar Goyakarakarak, the very one who oversaw the Inscribing the Five Thrones.”  
He looked Admiral MacLeod in the eye.  “After all, what kind of ‘loyalty’ would I be showing if I allowed this ship to be launched with no blessings from the Gods?”
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Op Base One
Stardate 1901.20
MacLeod had arrived on the asteroid base and immediately felt he’d been neglectful of his new Shadow Operations team. The accommodations were horrendous. They’d stuck his team on a desolate, outdated, overused mining asteroid smack dab in the middle of nowhere.
The facilities were being updated, with more than 50 percent of the work completed on installation of new computers, screens, projectors and monitors. The base had a habitat area for all of the team and the crew of the Resurrection. There were also training holodecks, an armory, an infirmary, an engineering section for R&D and repairs facilities for the ship, a brig and a mess hall and recreational center.
The Situation Room was similar to the War Room aboard Fearless, with state-of-the-art electronics, holographic projectors and multiple access points for computer interfacing. MacLeod arrived and took his seat there, shuffling through a stack of data padds when he was approached by Ryramorl Ra’yral and Reepchip Charatetet.
Ryramoral he had gotten used to through previous interactions. But Reepchip was something else entirely. He had been hesitant to accept the Carnora insistence that Reepchip come along with Ryramorl when he was assigned back to Shadow Ops. Even after the diminutive Carnora had been around for several days now, it was still a difficult adjustment to make.
But when Reepchip approached him and recommended having Resurrection inscribed and blessed by a Carnora shaman, MacLeod had to carefully give his response.
“I appreciate the gesture, ensign,” MacLeod said, using Reepchip’s honorary rank. “However, Starfleet hasn’t been in the practice of blessing ships for some time. You have to understand, the Federation is an organization made up of representatives of many diverse cultures. A blessing by a Carnora shaman may be acceptable to you and Ryramorl, but could offend the other cultural ways of the other races represented aboard this ship.”
Before Reepchip could further make his case, MacLeod leaned forward slightly and said, “Thank you, but no. Please be seated.”
Colonel Jahkar
Ops Base One
Stadrate 1901.20
Jahkar arrived in the base Situation Room after settling into his quarters. The base reminded him of Klingon accommodations, spartan and devoid of much decor. They would be sufficient, though he found it amusing Shadow Operations had gone from being the cream of the crop in its heyday, to the sparse, secretive surroundings they’d been give on Ops Base One.
The Klingon-Romulan wore Marine fatigues, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, as he stepped into the room and took his seat. He was curious about what their assignment would entail, but he had a sneaking suspicion it would address the ongoing turmoil the Federation was facing.
The biggest question to Jahkar was whether they’d be dealing with the Klingon threat Vree had dealt with prior to being recalled to Shadow Ops, or if it would be some other aspect of this giant mess.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.21
The rest of the afternoon Daryl spent in Engineering, talking with engineers about the new systems onboard of the Resurrection, but mainly about the coaxial warp drive...it still was experimental and not as trustworthy as a regular warp drive. It also had some unpleasant side effects when travelling in the higher factors, like nausea and disorientation.
The engineers gave some hints how to prevent that, and Daryl had made a mental note about that. As it was almost 1600 hours, he made his way to the Situation Room to attend the mission briefing.
As he entered, Jahkar, Ryramorl and the smaller Carnora were already seated. Daryl sat down, waiting for the rest and the briefing to begin.
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.21
Once they were all assembled, MacLeod began his briefing of the team. Projected up from the table was a holographic image of a white planet, with some areas of blue and brown visible. Data projected up alongside the image, identifying the orb as Andoria Prime.
“There has been another round of unrest and riots in the Federation, this time on Andoria Prime,” said MacLeod. “The Andorians report a terrorist organization calling itself the Andorian Revolutionary Front has been wreaking havoc on Andoria Primes for several months now. In just the past week they blew up a Starfleet recruiting center on Prime, killing six people. They have also detonated a bomb in a crowded nightclub in the Andorian capital, killing 37, 14 of those being young Starfleet and Federation personnel.”
MacLeod changed the holographic images floating above the conference table from the peaceful picture of the white orb of Andoria to scenes of violence in the streets of the planet’s capital. Andorians in the streets clashing with security personnel, hover vehicles on fire and exchanges of phaser fire in the streets.
“Andorian Security Forces hit back at the ARF, sparking riots in the streets for the past several days,” MacLeod continued. “So far there are 52 dead, 130 injured and more than 400 arrests in three nights of rioting.
“The ARF is advocating Andorian withdrawal from the Federation, re-establishment of the Andorian Empire and the removal of all non-Andorians from their homeworld,” said MacLeod. “While using violent tactics, they have still managed to gain the support of many Andorians, especially among the younger population.
“Your mission will be to travel to Andoria Prime, locate the leadership of the ARF and try to bring them down,” said MacLeod. “We need prisoners. Andorians high up in this organization who might be able to provide us connect the ARF to the rest of the unrest throughout the quadrant. So you’re going to need to find a way to neutralize those explosive devices in the heads of the ARF leadership, assuming they are like the other groups Starfleet Intelligence has encountered.”
MacLeod looked around the room, “Questions? Now would be the best time to ask. And we have an expert on Andorian culture here, so I would ask Ensign Sh'avelith to feel free to offer any insights she has at this point and to be open for questions.”
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 3: Exploring Options ==
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra'yral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.21
With his offer declined, Reepchip obediently sat down.  MacLeod could see at once why Reepchip originally stood in his chair:  The Muran was so tiny he could barely see over the top of the table.  With an apologetic chitter, he resumed standing in his seat.
After the briefing, Reepchip raised his paw. "Do we have anything like these explosive devices we can experiment with, or any specs we can study?"  
He then remembered something he'd learned while in Starfleet Academy.  "Also... isn't there a strain of Andorian that has telepathy?  Is there a possibility one of them is mixed up in this?"
Ryramorl also had a question.  
"What promises are being made to the youth by the revolutionaries?”  The fact that this revolutionary group were attracting the young came as no surprise to him; during the last days of the Carnora Republic the same thing had happened.
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.21
MacLeod listened to Reepchip and suddenly found it incredibly surreal to be talking to a creature of such diminutive size. He had no doubt the Carnora could handle itself in fight, but his size and animal-like appearance made it hard to see him as anything but a…pet or mascot.
Collecting himself, the Scot moved ahead to attempt to answer Reepchip’s questions.
He slid a data padd across the table to the Carnora, “Here is Starfleet Inteliigence’s analysis of the explosive compound. We don’t have an actual sample here, but this should offer some explanations.”
MacLeod looked over to Tiri, “I’ll let the ensign address the matter of Andorian telepaths. I am not aware of any involved in this. As far as promises being made by the revolutionaries – they are promising all Andorians freedom from Federation rule. A restoration of Andorian power and the removal of aliens from their world. For some Andorians, including many of their young people, it is an alluring prospect.”
Lt. Cody Beckett & Lt. Daryl Thompson
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Cody watched the holographic feeds from the riots while he listened to Admiral MacLeod’s briefing. When he heard their assignment, he was somewhat surprised. When MacLeod asked for questions, Cody spoke up. “Sir, assuming the ARF would probably only have Andorians within their ranks, how are we supposed to come near this ARF, let alone infiltrate and take the high placed persons in custody ? I mean, they want any non Andorian off the planet. So I assume we aren’t very welcome. Are we supposed to undergo sophisticated surgery to look like Andorians? “
Daryl piped in. “Aside from that, the way I see it, we aren’t dealing with some regular terrorist cell. These guys seem to be very well organized and we should thread carefully when going the surgical way. I mean, one simple DNA scan and there goes our cover. If so, this needs to go deeper, we would need to modify our personal shield generators to mask our human profiles, so we really look as Andorians, even when being scanned. But I assume that would rule out Ryramorl and Reepchip” Daryl glanced sideways to the big Carnora. “I think it’s a long shot to go the surgical way. Stealth all the way would be my suggestion. We did that before.”
Commander Mayla Vree
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Mayla looked over briefly to Sh'avelith, now seeing the reason why the Andorian was part of the team. Then looked over to Railius who gave her a slight nod and coming to the same conclusion. They were going to have to infiltrate the ARF, find out who the leaders are, disable the explosive implants, and then extract them.
"Ensign Sh'avelith, from looking at the data we have now, what is the best way to infiltrate the ARF since you are the only Andorian in the team. Would we stand out too much and raise too many suspicions?" Mayla asked their resident Andorian.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Sh’avelith was in shock. The mission was to be her homeworld. And the target was the organization her brother had told her about just hours earlier. When Vree spoke to her, the Andorian quickly left her surprise behind, and realized she would be pivotal to this assignment.
She looked to Vree, “I’ve heard of this group. My brother spoke of them in a conversation we had just a few hours ago. I’ve heard of them before. They are strictly an Andorian group. They believe in Andorian purism.”
She glanced to Reepchip. “The telepathic Andorians you speak of are the Aenar. They have white skin and are blind. They are rare in our society. It is unlikely one would be a part of this, but possible.”
Commander Mayla Vree
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Mayla took a tally in her head as she looked at her team. "There are some of us here that would immediately raise suspicions once we begin prodding the ARF. Admiral, my suggestion is to split the team into two teams; a primary team to infiltrate the ARF and the other will provide overwatch and support."  She gave each of those members a nod. "Commander Railius will lead the infiltration team with Sh'avelith, Jahkar, Ra'yral, and Charatetet. I will lead the support team of Thompson and Preet. Beckett will remain on board and research how to disable the explosives."
Beckett started to object. "No offense Lieutenant, but humans and Trill will stand out too much as Starfleet, and we don't want to expose the other team members as Starfleet by keeping together. And of the three of you, you are the only one without combat and infiltration training. So you will remain on board and research those explosives based on whatever data the Admiral can provide. The rest of us will provide overwatch support for the infiltration team. We will be in full combat gear and will leapfrog our positions to cover the rest of the team if they are to get into any trouble."
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
“Commander, if I may,” Sh’avelith began. “I would be the only one in the team capable of infiltration, if that is the route you wish to take. We could alter the appearances of some team members to make them look Andorian, but my people are very suspicious by nature. It will be difficult to make non-Andorians pass.”
She looked at Vree, “This group is ruthless. They are devoted to their cause and they will stop at nothing to accomplish their mission. My suggestion, as an Andorian, is to find them and hit them hard. Hopefully to take prisoners. That’s just my personal assessment, commander.”
Lt. Cody Beckett
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Beckett sighed. He was disappointed, but Vree was right, he didn’t have any training nor experience in that field. Well, back to science then. Guess he had to wait a little longer before getting any real action. Since the Resurrection had an impressive sensor array, maybe he could help the team a little more with surveilling the area they were in.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Well. His first real field assignment since very long. He felt excited about the idea to go back into the field. Especially since it would be a stealth mission. Though he also felt a little reluctant. Well, there was no way back now. He focused again on the conversation and pushed the reluctancy aside.
<OOC Note:  100 Passings would be a little less than 77 UFP years>
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra'yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Ryramorl listened carefully.  “Most Andorians I’ve met aren’t nearly as tall as I am and my tail’s a little hard to hide,” he pointed out to Daryl.  “And Reepchip…”--he glanced at the long-tailed Muran--”well, I don’t know of any sentient species as small as his, and I’ve met more than most.”  He then licked his canines in thought.  “If it helps at all,” he said, “The Carnora aren’t a well-known race and if anyone knows about the Carnora, they know about the Olvern because of me and Talsyn’s gang, maybe about the Usarin if they knew of the late Oldragus.  Reepchip’s only been a cadet at Starfleet Academy, nothing more.  There is an old trick the Carnora pulled once about 100 Passings ago when dealing with another race--we had the Muran pose as our pets.  If Sh'avelith needs to be in public, Reepchip could pose as some pet she picked up offworld.”
Commander Mayla Vree
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
"Andorian purity is going to cause a problem," Mayla said looking at Sh'avelith and then to her team of mixed races. "I'm not comfortable sending you in alone to infiltrate the ARF despite having the whole team as your backup. If comms are disrupted, you are entirely on your own."
Railius' face was neutral, both of their minds going back to Sh'avelith's dossier, which Mayla brought up in her eyes to peruse. The file shows her being an active operative for Starfleet Intelligence. Maybe she can do it on her own. But it still made her uneasy to send the Andorian in alone.
She looked to each member of her team again, then to Lazarus, who then gave her a tight lipped frown and a nod. She took a deep breath and let it out. "If we can be made up to look Andorian, and pass a genetic scan, would that suffice to pass as one of them?"
"That would work. But if they take a DNA sample and test it in the lab, your cover would be compromised." Sh'avelith said.
"But generally, once a scan shows Andorian genetic make up, why would they even bother testing a DNA sample?" Mayla asked.
"There's always the possibility." the Andorian answered.
"I have nanites in my DNA that allow me to effect a genetic camouflage." Mayla said quietly. "They can be programmed to make my lifeform scan as Andorian."
"And that classified information is not to leave this room," Captain Lazarus said sternly, giving a respectful nod to Admiral MacLeod.
The group sat in silence after that admission and declaration. They had questions about it, but after Lazarus' gruff statement of confidentiality, no one deemed it worthy to question the man.
"If Sh'avelith agrees it would work, I will accompany her down to Andoria Prime and be her backup. I also want Jahkar and Charatetet to provide overwatch tactical support and surveillance for both of us while we are on planet.
"I want the rest of the team geared up while you stay on board the ship and wait. You will all be deployable immediately if the need arises. We need to hit them hard and fast."
"And during that time, you all will assist Commander Railius on investigating how these particular sites have been exploited and infiltrated for the ARF to place a bomb in them. Maybe you can try to track where these suicide bombers are coming from. Use whatever surveillance footage you can get from the government. And just maybe, you might prevent the next incident.
"But first and foremost, you will need to find a way to disrupt the signal to prevent those explosives detonating in the ARF member's heads. That is your first task. We can't interrogate anyone we catch if they die once in our custody."
Mayla looked to Sh'avelith if she had any other suggestions or input.
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
Reepchip couldn’t help but wonder what other surprises his new companions were hiding, but he was grateful that Commander Vree hadn’t agreed to the frankly humiliating dodge of posing as a mere animal.  He spoke up.  “Will Jahkar and I be on the planet with you, then?” he asked.
Vree gave him a nod. "Yes, you both will be shadowing us wherever we go within reason to observe and report to us what you see. I like to know what's going on around us. If we get into any serious trouble we can't get out of, we'll call you in.”
Reepchip nervously shifted a bit, but Ryramorl looked at Sh’avelith.  “What are the ceilings in these places like?"  He got a number of strange looks, so he pointed up at the mouldings and fixtures on the Briefing Room ceiling.  “Reepchip could probably go from one corner of this room to the opposite and never touch the floor.  One of my old profs at Starfleet Academy tells me that he scared her to hissing by hiding up in the ceiling.”  Reepchip’s slight cringe revealed that this had indeed happened.  “Furthermore,” Ryramorl continued, “in the Carnora Special Forces, that’s the role a lot of Muran take--taking a look from above.  And I know sneaking through an air duct is a ridiculous cliche in old Earth movies, but...”  He looked at the slender, 33”-tall, 18-pound Muran, and felt he had to say no more.
He was also considering some of the tactics that the Special Forces used, and then asked, “Do you know if these micro-explosives that you told us about back on Starbase 450 are triggered from afar, or by the operatives themselves?”  He was already thinking of looking up Andorian drugs--these operatives were less likely to trigger their suicide device if their brains were romancing the Clouds of the Prince.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.23
T’Aayla kept her face neutral at the revelation of Commander Vree’s nanites.  Had Starfleet been experimenting with Borg technology?  Interesting.  Apparently, the lessons of Khan Noonian Singh had been lost on Starfleet if they were developing enhanced or genetically engineered soldiers.   Her 3xgreat grandfather had nearly been killed by such a creation and her interest was piqued by this new revelation.   Again, she thought…. Interesting, but remained neutral.  Still, it was good information to have.  She wondered what else the Trill was hiding.   It would be proper Rihansuu protocol to attempt to find out.   
“There is a significant probability that both of you will be compromised and caught,” she announced. “We should prepare for that eventuality and use it to our advantage.” If you succeed, great, however in the case that you are caught, that will put you in close proximity to members of this terrorist cell as they will most likely prefer to interrogate you before outright killing you, so that they may understand who is attempting to infiltrate them. I’d suggest we also implant our own devices that would allow us to not only transport you, but those in close proximity to you, back to the ship. If we can use a transporter enhancer to lock onto any terrorist you come in contact with, such that we could beam through their shields or other scrambling devices, we could hold them in the transporter buffer, filter out all non-organic compounds and materialize them without their suicide devices. An implant would need to appear as a cybernetic enhancement, perhaps two that individually would not appear as a transport enhancer but combined would operate as such. At the very least we would need something that could act as a beacon that would allow an exfiltration team to recover you. That would be prudent. Given the terrorists penchant for self-immolation, it appears that a stasis field or transporter containment would work best to neutralize their suicide devices. We’ll give it more thought and research while you are both on planet.”     
Colonel Jahkar
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.27
Jahkar had listened to the ongoing conversation and had been mentally taking notes. He referred to the background data provided on the padds laying on the table and quickly reviewed some facts about Andoria.
When there was a lull in the conversation, he decided to speak up, “Andorian cities are underground. Correct?”
Sh’avelith looked to the half-Klingon, half-Romulan and nodded, “Yes. All major cities are underground. They utilize the planet’s geo-thermal heat. For those of you who do not know, Andoria is an ice world.”
Jahkar looked to the rest of the team, “Andorian cities are tightly packed in subterranean caverns. Overwatch will be difficult. But we can remain close to Sh’avelith and Vree if they infiltrate. If we keep a lock on them, I can lead the support team on a site-to-site transport to their location.”
Lt. Cody Beckett
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.28
Cody shook his head as he heard of Jahkar’s plan.
“I’m sorry  Colonel. “Cody said. “But site-to-site transports will be picked up by any sensor grid in the vicinity.  Unless...we can modify the portable transporter relays to use a phased cloak, like the Resurrection has. “Cody thought for a few seconds, running some numbers through his head. “With a few modifications, we could even use the main deflector dish of the Resurrection as an ACB (Annular Confinement Beam) relay.. We might have to modify our personal cloaks as well, to align with the transporter emitters so there won’t be any glitch in their readings.”
Cody nodded, after running a quick check on his padd. “Yeah, that could work. Only things we need to take into account is that the thick layers of ice might cause some interference. Once we get there, we might have to check if the Resurrection can get the transporter signal deep enough into the planet’s subterranean cities”.
OOC: I assume AI has taken a leap since the ‘old days’ in SO and that we have access to advanced AI.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.28
Daryl was thinking how to prevent captured members of the ARF from blowing themselves up. First, they had to figure out how the implants worked. Where they triggered through certain events automatically? Did the person in case actually ‘commit’ suicide by activating the device in some way? Or were they remotely detonated? It was all possible. Once they captured someone, the need of a strong stasis and a dampening field would be needed to prevent triggering the explosive device. Daryl tasked his personal AI to come up with a list of these cybernetic implants in combination with small explosive implants. Then he focused back on the briefing.
Colonel Jahkar
Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.28
Jahkar listened to the others planning the mission and a thought occurred to him. When there was an opportunity, he spoke.
“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong,” said the Marine. “We are considering options to infiltrate this group. The best chance we have of that is Ensign Sh'avelith and maybe Commander Vree. But this team is, essentially, the very thing these terrorists want off their planet. We are collectively a walking target.
“If we put ourselves out on the streets of the capital, how long do you think it will be, in this current climate of hate and unrest, before the terrorists come gunning for us? They’ll come right to us, and we can be ready for them. We bait them in and then strike, take them down and possibly get prisoners.”
The half-Romulan/Klingon looked around, gauging the reactions of his teammates.
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 4: Meeting Wrap Up ==
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One Briefing Room
Stardate 1901.28
Reepchip looked over the data pad that was slid his way, looking at the chemical composition he considered tinkering with a phaser so its disintegration setting would affect only that chemical.  When he heard Jahkar’s plan of being bait, he looked over, rising to his full height.  “I like it,” he chittered.  “Much like the Muran Hunting that the Olvern do.  Here I am, little Muran, out in the open and all alone!  All I can do is dash into this little hiding spot over here!” Ryramorl groaned and buried his face in his paws.  “And you chase him in there, and 15 Murans are waiting with a net or something, and it’s no prize for you.”
Reepchip grinned at Ryramorl.  “Oh, you were captured that way, too?”
“Twice.”  the big Carnora growled, ears flat.
Commander Mayla Vree
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1901.28
Jahkar's idea had the most merit. Putting the first encounter with the ARF in their control on their terms will allow them to work in the infiltration in a more believable way. It opens them up for recruitment into the cause.
But she originally had discarded the same idea to bait them as she didn't want any innocent people injured in coordinating a terrorist attack. If they can control the extent of injuries and made sure no one was actually killed, it would be the most credible way to get into the ARF.
Mayla watched the ideas bounce back and forth across the table and absorbed everyone's thought process; each one contributing in their own expertise. Admiral MacLeod and Lazarus also listened to everyone's input and glanced at her to make her final decision.
"I believe baiting the ARF to attack and capture who we can will allow Sh'avelith and I to infiltrate the group if we are part of the crowd."
She brought up several attacks on a map on the three-dimensional image hovering over the center of the table. "Most of the targets have been rich with Starfleet personnel. We need to create a target that isn't too obvious as a trap, but enticing enough for them to attack."
Railius raised a finger. "On short notice, a visit by either a Federation dignitary or Starfleet brass might be hard to pass up." She looked over to Admiral MacLeod.
Mayla nodded. "That is a very enticing target, one of us can impersonate one and have them on a chartered shuttle to Andoria Prime." She looked at her team, making a new list. "Here's what I propose. We need an advanced team to set up the target ahead of time. If Sh'avelith agrees I can pass as Andorian, I will accompany her infiltration. We need someone to be the bait. We need someone to accompany the bait as backup. And we need someone to research disabling the bombs."
Lt. Cody Beckett
Ops Base One briefing room
Stardate 1901.29
“I'll start investigating the explosive implants and a means to disable them” Cody said.
Lieutenant Daryl Thompson
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One Briefing Room
Stardate 1901.29
Daryl liked the plan Jahkar came up with. “I'm volunteering to act as the bait” he said with a grin. It was an enticing thought to go back into action.
Ryramorl glanced at Daryl.  “Perhaps it would be wiser to have me as bait,” he rumbled.  “I can handle myself if things go very wrong.”
Reepchip chittered in disagreement.  “The terrorists would kill you outright, sir.  You are too obviously dangerous to try and capture.”
Daryl raised his eyebrows as the Carnora bristled at Reepchip. Then he grinned again. “I volunteered. Not saying I am the only one who can do it…And I think Reepschip is right. You pose a big threat. You WILL be killed.” he shot a glance back at the big Carnora, gauging his reaction.
Ryramorl bared his teeth slightly, but Reepchip chittered firmly.  “Show me a hunter who tries to capture a Yarrowan alive, and I will show you its next snack,” he said, referring to the dreaded, 70-foot snake-like creatures who haunted the Deep Swamps just west of the Great Ring Sea.  “Not even the Sea Walkers would try such a thing, how much less would these terrorists try to capture you?  Especially when you’d be wearing your battle armour?”
Ryramorl nodded.  “Point taken,” he rumbled.
Daryl nodded towards Reepchip. The small creature gave a slight bow back. Daryl didn’t know if that was a sign of acknowledgement or that the creature didn’t understand his nod. Obviously, the smaller Carnora had convinced the Big Cat.   Daryl had to admit though, the Carnora would’ve attracted attention pretty fast when on Andoria. Maybe even too fast.
Reepchip looked at the others.  “Being as I can conceal myself better than most, I offer to be the backup.”
Colonel Jahkar
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.03
Jahkar chimed in, “My place should be on the ground, ready to act when the ARF operatives make their move. Whoever serves as bait will need to be protected. If you agree, commander?”
He looked to Mayla, awaiting her decision.
This plan had its risks. Everyone on the ground would be in danger. The Andorian rebels were not hesitant to set off bombs in crowds. However, they also knew bombing innocent civilians could be damaging to their cause, so it was possible they would strike the Shadow Ops team more surgically -- perhaps in close combat.
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.03
“I should be by your side if I cannot be the bait,” Ryramorl said to Jahkar with a grin.  The likelihood of close combat… appealed to him.
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.04
MacLeod looked around the table. They had their work cut out for them. The Scot turned his gaze to Commander Vree, “So, are there any more questions? If not, I’ll leave you to plan your mission. I will give you all one word of advice…be careful with the coaxial drive on Resurrection.
“The drive still has bugs that need to be worked out. In Federation space, travelling usual spacelanes, the chances of you making a successful jump are about 99 percent. Jump into a region of space where there anomalies, dark matter other unpredictable variables…the chances for the drive failing increase.”
Lazarus cleared his throat, “I’m clear on the drive and its limitations. We’ll be certain to use it with caution. However, at some point we have to get those bugs worked out and that means putting the drive to use.”
MacLeod nodded, “A warp drive that can instantly send the ship its deployed aboard to any charted location in the galaxy is an incredible thing. But just remember the previous tests of this drive have ended up with two ships destroyed – one warped into a star and the other into a planet.”
Both failures the result of pilot-error,” Lazarus said. “One got too close to a gravity well, the other failed to account for a supernova in a nearby sector which threw off calculations.”
“Hence the need for caution,” MacLeod said. “That’s all I’m saying. I am grateful to Admiral Sorvek for getting us this ship and that coaxial drive, but I don’t like the fact the technology is still in development and testing.”
MacLeod again scanned the group, “Questions? Comments?”
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 5: Forming a Plan ==
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.04
Ryramorl raised his paw.  “What do we do if the zharin hides in a herd of horhganhar?” he asked.  
...I beg your pardon?” asked Admiral MacLeod as the others the others looked puzzled at this non-sequitur.
Ryramorl realized his idiom was lost on the others--even on Reepchip!  “It’s a phrase that means ‘things go very wrong’,” he explained.  “I think the human phrase is ‘it all goes down the... crapper.’”  He’d almost used a much cruder term for the toilet but managed to catch himself.  “What’s our backup plan?”
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.04
MacLeod gave a slight shrug and a boyish grin, “We don’t have one, lieutenant. If infiltration fails, unless any of you have a better plan to bring forward, we’ll use force. We’ll locate the ARF command and beam in a heavily armed team, led by Phoenix Team.”
Commander Mayla Vree
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.05
The admiral gave each one of them one last look with a tight lipped smile. "The team's designation will be Phoenix Team. The Resurrection's designation will be Helios. You will provide Captain Lazarus intervaled status reports on his discretion. You depart in three hours. Dismissed."
The admiral left the briefing room to let them plan out the details for the mission.
"I want a status report from each team every eight hours." Lazarus ordered. "Each one of you will be injected with a isolinear tag that will travel throughout your body to avoid detection by any type of scanners. Commander Vree already has one in her. The rest of you will report to the infirmary after this meeting to get tagged. The Resurrection will keep a transporter lock on you wherever you go." Lazarus looked to Mayla to continue the meeting.
"Alright, it's settled then," Mayla said. "Lieutenant Beckett will remain on board the Resurrection to investigate and research on how to disable the explosive implants.
"Lieutenant Thompson will portray a Starfleet admiral on a diplomatic mission to inspect Andorian security on protecting Federation citizens in light of the increase in recent attacks.
"Lieutenant Ra'yral will be Thompson’s adjunct/assistant. Make sure you look like one, and not a warrior.
"Railius and Jahkar will be infiltrated into the crowd or somewhere at the location to provide Thompson and Ra'yral cover and back up.
"Sh'avelith and I will pose as Andorian protesters at the location. Hopefully we will be noticed and approached to join the cause. Charatetet will shadow us and provide us with close quarters surveillance and back up." She looked over to the smallest member of the team and gave him a nod. His small size would come in very handy as he may not be as noticeable as a full sized person.
"Preet will also remain on board ship and provide overwatch support by remote using Starfleet Intelligence's stealth probes to cover the entire location. The new probes are an evolution of the original Shadow Operations nanoprobes, smaller, but with farther range, wider sensor net, higher resolution imaging, and a level 1 phaser. The phaser won't kill anyone, but it will cause some damage. And it can also stun. The stealth AI in each one keeps itself as hidden as possible as it is ordered to move about. I've been using these for the past year. I want your plans of action before we arrive at Andoria Prime."
The team members grouped together to discuss the details of their specific parts of the overall plan. Mayla looked over to Sh'avelith and brought up a map of the Andorian capital as Charatetet crouched in the chair next to her. "I think you and I should beam down to the planet before the rest of the team and create an independent incident before they bait the trap. That way we have a little bit of credibility before we spring the trap. It will also give the rest of the team time to set up their part of the plan."
The Andorian nodded. "Agreed. Maybe a smaller target that won't hurt too many people."
Mayla brought up the three-dimensional map of Andoria Prime. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.05
Tiri was still a little in shock over the disclosure the mission would be taking place on her homeworld. From this point forward she decided everything she did would be as transparent as possible. She could not risk any of her actions being confused with having sympathies or alliances with this terrorist organization.
She loathed what the ARF stood for. She understood from where their politics originated, but she disagreed with them. Isolating Andoria from the rest of the galaxy so it could live in its little microcosm was not in the best interests of her people – but there were many who wanted it to be that way.
They were the ones who hated being part of a Federation of Planets. They hated off-worlders and they longed for a time when they could govern themselves. Her planet’s role in the Federation, as a founding member, was an example to billions of others across the galaxy. 
Still, if things were south during this operation, she wanted everyone in Starfleet Intelligence to know it was not her fault. For that reason alone, she was glad she’d be working with Commander Vree.
Tiri listened to Vree and nodded. “I assume we want to keep it in the heart of the capital city? Therefore, there are several targets of opportunity. Soft targets, ones not so heavily guarded. There’s a Federation science facility here,” Tiri indicated a spot on the three-dimensional map.
“Also, you can find a Starfleet communications center here,” the Andoria pointed out another location.
“Finally, there is a Vulcan Science Academy branch located here, on the campus of the university…where my mother works,” Tiri startled herself for a moment. “Oh…my mother would not be happy if we did something there.”
Her look of surprise then faded into something of a mischievous grin. “Oh no, she certainly wouldn’t.”
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.05
Ryramorl’s ears twitched back at his assigned role, but he simply said “very well.”  He’d hoped to wear his battle armour but he guessed that Mayla was trying to make him look less threatening so he wouldn’t be as big a target as Reepchip feared he would be.  
He was briefly reminded of when Lieutenant Commander Rosen, who oversaw the dormitories at Starfleet Academy during Ryramorl’s last year there appointed him as a Resident Assistant and made him swear not to unduly intimidate his dormmates when carrying out his duties.  “You’re intimidating enough as it is,” she had told Ryramorl.
He rubbed a tusk thoughtfully.  “Maybe you could raise a stink about the Federation failing to keep a notorious criminal from selling narcotics on Salarr IV, and that’s why Andoria should leave.”  He shrugged.  “Apparently Ronjaro juice, which is a common drink amongst Carnora, has strange effects on humans.  Talsyn didn’t know this--hell, nobody knew this--and he was selling it on Salarr IV.”  He looked over at the others who’d dealt with the mess on Vajorek Colony years ago.  “Yes.  That Talsyn.  He’s a very different person than he was back then, but still… his reputation remains.”
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.05
Reepchip thought about his assigned role--and realized that, even if he was unable to see much through everyone else’s legs, he’d have no problem tracking Sh’’avelith and Vree through scent and sound.  If he was able to climb something, even better.  Suddenly he had a thought.  “Does this... i-so-lin-ar tag do anything to the body itself?”  He knew that certain injections the Federation had did strange things to Carnora physiology, and during Ryramorl’s time at the academy, Starfleet was loaned many, MANY scrolls on Carnora medicine as Ryramorl was of an unfamiliar species.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Lt. Ryramorl Ray’ral
Ops Base One Briefing Room
Stardate 1902.05
Daryl looked towards the huge cat-like creature.  Ryramorl looked back and sighed. “So, what’s your plan, “Admiral” Thompson” He asked Daryl.
Daryl smiled “I could get used to being addressed like that”. His smile disappeared as the Carnora grinned at him, not a friendly grin at all.  “Hey, I’m not the enemy” Daryl said, raising both his hands.
“Which is why I’ll be... relatively gentle when I teach you what my kind do with those who claim titles they haven’t earned.“  Those who knew Ryramorl well, though, would know the bristling was exaggerated and the big Olvern was only joking.
Daryl raised his eyebrow. “I don’t claim anything at all. I do have to get my act right, though. And so should you. As an adjunct to an admiral, you do have certain privileges and freedom.  I guess we should put that to good use. However, we have to be careful not to blow our cover. I am as much as an admiral as you are an adjunct, so let’s make sure we are convincing in our act”
“Very well,” said Ryramorl.  “So, what did you have in mind?”
Daryl sat back. “I guess the admiral can give us a few hints how to behave and whatnot. I checked the mission briefing logs quickly and saw that the appointment itself has already been arranged. We are to meet a delegation of Andorian military officers to discuss the matter of the ARF. I will be Admiral Daren Bridwell. You are my adjunct…”
Ryramorl saw his quizzical face and supplied a name.  “Rygaran D’hronarin.”  At the look of recognition, he saw in the faces of others, he continued.  “It may help that he really did serve alongside Starfleet years ago.”
“Rygaran D’hronarin,” agreed Daryl.  “Furthermore, I guess it’s listening a lot and here and there ask questions, mainly about how they claim Federation citizen security.”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius/Colonel Jahkar  
Briefing Room, Ops Base One    
Stardate1902.09
T’Aayla made quick eye contact with Colonel Jahkar when Commander Vree read out their assignments.  The two had worked before, ten years ago, and when she was Commander Jamie T. Marcus. She hadn’t discussed her new name with him, and Jahkar hadn’t asked, probably out of politeness, but she thought it safe to assume he knew.  
After the briefing, the Colonel walked over to her location as she was pulling her notes together. “So...backup.”
She smiled, “Yes. Backup.” She could tell that the combat oriented Jahkar would have liked nothing better than to be in the thick of it, and she remembered his efficiency at killing people from her past experiences. “We can’t be a part of the vanguard all the time.” His typical Klingon scowl made her smile. “But I think there is a good chance, we’ll all have blood on our hands before this is over.”
“I’ve probably already had my share, but… I’m not retired yet.”
“No, no, you’re not.” She looked around at the buzz of conversation. “It’s too noisy in here, why don’t you meet me in my quarters in a half hour?  We’ll talk tactics there.”
“Agreed.  Half hour.” The marine turned and exited the room.   
Jamie/T’Aayla smiled.  Classic Jahkar.     
Commander T’Aayla Railius/Colonel Jahkar
Private Quarters, Ops Base  
Stardate1902.09
“Come,” T’Aayla responded to the sound of her door chime precisely one half hour after she had left the Colonel. The door opened revealing Jahkar. “Come in,” she beckoned to a table that where she had recently replicated a mug of blood wine and a bottle of Romulan ale. The sight of the table’s contents forced a smile out of the Colonel. “Not the good stuff,” she announced with a shrug, “but it’s hard to get anything else on this forsaken rock.”  
The door closed behind Jahkar and he approached the table. His place had both a blood wine as well as a Romulan ale.  It was only when he got closer that he saw the small replicated bottle of Tennessee Jack Daniel’s whiskey next to T’Aayla’s Romulan ale.   
The two looked at each other for several seconds. “I had … suspected, but…”
"It’s okay Jahkar," Jamie responded.   "It’s been ten years since we served together on Avenger, and … I do look a bit different."
“Well the ears are an improvement he offered.”
“I guess we’re both hybrids now.”
“A Romulan-Human, and a Klingon-Romulan.  We sound like actors in an early 21st century commercial, Jahkar quipped.”
“Yes.”  Jamie allowed herself to relax her tight exterior. She reached out and grasped his hand firmly, “It IS good to serve with you again, my friend.”
“As I with you Commander. I did not believe what I heard from your post-mortem court-martial; you must have a story to tell.”
Jamie’s eyes glazed with a haunted look for a second, and she stiffened. Jahkar noticed, and he allowed a look of sympathy to show. “That… is a story for when we are not restricted to drinking replicated synthehol with no chemical effects,” she said lightly and seriously at the same time.  
“Does Admiral Sortha know?”
“No.  Outside of Admiral MacLeod, you and our large Carnoran friend, the rest of the Universe believes Jamie Marcus is dead.   “Well...my family on ch’Rihan knows…”
“Family?”
T’Aayla smiled, “Yes, I have quite the family.  I belong to an Imperial house now.”
Realization dawned on Jahkar as he connected her last name with the Imperial Raillius name.  “House Raillius?  Thee...house Raillius.”
“Yes.” T’Aayla stated, allowing some Rihansuu pride to show through.
“Captain...Admiral...Senator Raillius was the greatest tactician the Romulan Empire produced in our lifetime, .. in the past several hundred years at least…   his last Battle at Jarnassis IV…”
“I was there,” she smiled.   On the bridge of the RIS Talon, running he Tactical station.
“Fuck me!” Jahkar exclaimed in surprise.
This time she laughed out loud, “Yes, it’s been an eventful past ten years.  Come, sit.” After several glasses, and briefly catching up on Jahkar’s past ten years.
Colonel Jahkar
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.10
Jahkar finished another glass of Romulan Ale. He preferred Klingon alcohol, but Romulan Ale was good to have, in moderation.
“My children are grown. They have set off on their own paths. Tajel is in his senior year at Starfleet Academy. He is gifted in engineering it would seem. Kedanya enlisted in the Bajoran military and serves there as a corporal. She’s quite the warrior.”
He looked to Rallius, “I have been serving in the corps on Earth mostly. Training cadets. They dust me off and send me out on missions from time to time…mostly sniping and overwatch. It feels good to be back in the field.”
Jahkar poured another glass of ale. “Any thoughts on the mission?”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius/Colonel Jahkar  
Briefing Room, Ops Base One    
Stardate1902.10
“It seems to me that anyone attempting an attack on Thompson and Ra’yral would expect some undercover backup.”
“Agreed.” Jahkar stated.  “We can choose to be obvious, which would make us targets, or we can blend in and only respond when the attack happens.”  
“They could as easily decide to use a sniper attack, or explosive device as choose to kidnap them.   This is a risky mission; the terrorists actions depend on the personality of their leader.   Will they benefit from a precision kill, impressive in its own right, a messy and gruesome explosion and mass casualty event, or a catch and grab.”
“The sniper and the bomb would be the lowest risk options,” Jahkar concluded.   
“In which case we bury Thompson and Ra’yral with honors in the cold of space.”
“Or the terrorist commander wants them as bargaining chips.”
“Yes, in which case we need to prevent it, yet allow for Commander Vree and Shavelith to intervene.”   
“We’re going to have to be good shots,” Jahkar observed.   
“Exactly, especially since there will possibly be civilians around.”   
“Civilians… I hate civilians in the way.”
“There is another possibility.   The enemy makes ‘us” and decides to skip the high value target and take us instead.   
“Interesting.”
“I give that a lower probability than simply trying to take us out, or going after Thompson.”
“What do you think the odds are?”
“I give it 50-50 the terrorists try a kidnap.  There are too many variables.”
“Damn.  But we are kinda in a hard place- we don’t have any leads at all.”
“I know.  And Thompson knows.   He’s doing his job.” 
The two continued discussing options, cover clothing, weapons, and contingency planning.    After an hour, they’d covered all the bases possible.
“One more thing,” Jamie stated…  
“What’s that?”  
“We’d better brush up on our Andorian anatomy.   We don’t want to kill every attacker, and we may have to shoot to wound.”   
“Good point.  I’m trained to snipe to the head and shoot to center mass” the Colonel acknowledged.    
“Well…. Good night.”  Jamie offered her hand again.
Jahkar took it.   Jamie now represented a part of himself that he despised.  Romulan.  The same people who had been responsible for his birth, but also the people who had essentially raped his mother to produce him.   But he knew Jamie had likely suffered something as bad as anything in his past, so she remained Jamie T. Marcus to him.  
After Jahkar had left, T’Aayla sat down at her computer.   “Computer, show me detailed physiology and anatomical structure for Andorians… and for Trills.” 
Lt. Ryramorl Ray’ral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.10
After the briefing, Ryramorl and Reepchip returned to their room. Ryramorl requisitioned a uniform for an adjunct, then went to groom himself carefully in preparation for his role.
Meanwhile, Reepchip studied Andorian architecture to see how he could get around unseen.  “I wonder how we’re going to bring these terrorists in alive,” sighed Reepchip.  “What if these micro-explosives are set off by phaser fire?”  He glanced over at the PADD that Admiral MacLeod had given him.
Ryramorl thought for a moment.  “How good are you with a blow gun?”
“I’ve done it for sport a few times at taverns, but I’m no champion.  I did bring my pipe and darts along to keep up practice, though.”
“The Special Forces have used them from time to time.  Look up Andorian drugs.  Especially sedatives.”  He raised an eyebrow at Reepchip’s skeptical looks.  “Don’t be surprised. Blowdarts are effective and they don’t have an energy signal to trace.”
“Don’t forget Andorians have an exoskeleton,” pointed out Reepchip.
“A limited one, which means you’ll have to aim carefully.”
“With all due respect… they don’t use needles at all in their medicine.  I’ll bring my darts, but I don’t think they’ll be much use.”
The two Carnoras continued prepping themselves for their upcoming mission.
Lt. Cody Beckett
Ops Base One, Shadow Ops deck
Stardate 1902.11
After the briefing, Cody went straight to the deck where Shadow Operations resided, and he entered the Ops center. He needed some Computer power for his search queries. Since they had a few hours before they would leave, Cody could use all the time he had to get a good starting point.
During the briefing, his portable AI had gathered some input parameters, which resulted in a huge load of data. Now Cody needed to refine the searches to find out, or at least get an idea which devices were used. Then the real fun could begin: figuring out how to disarm or disable the devices without damage to the person it carried.
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.11
In the course of Beckett’s examination of the data collected on the explosive devices, he made a discovery. The explosive itself was a microscopic charge of a zanturium, a powerful explosive that is difficult to detonate. Zanturium was a popular explosive used by criminal organizations, especially those operating in the underworld on Risa.
Upon further examination of the charge, there was no visible detonator.
Beckett went over all of the scans taken of deceased members of this conspiratorial group, forwarded to them by Starfleet Intelligence. As he studied the findings, he came across something in one of the scans. There was another object in the blood stream of the dead terrorist – an ARF member who died in fighting in recent days.
The object in the blood stream was a nanite. A very tiny, yet very capable nanite. This nanite could serve many practical uses – including to act as a detonator. Nanites could be controlled remotely, they could also be programmed to perform certain actions.
Regardless, they would not be able to determine much more about the mysterious nanite unless they were to physically obtain one.
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 6: Mission Prep ==
Commander Mayla Vree
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
Briefing Room, Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.15
Mayla looked at the several suggestions Sh'avelith pointed out. "Let's look more closely at the communications center. That could be replaced easily enough. Whereas the other targets would leave too much of a lasting consequence." She took a quick glance at the school. "Especially at the school. I don't want students or teachers to be collateral damage."
The Andorian gave her a slow nod, partly understanding her reasoning to minimize injuries, but still a little bit disappointed not to perform an act of terrorism at her mother's school. She almost laughed at herself just thinking that. "I'll send the specs to the rest of the team so they can plan accordingly."
"Very well," Mayla gave her a few minutes to send the information out to the newly assembled Phoenix Team. During that time she looked over to Charatetet.
"Will you be able to shadow us well enough to stay inconspicuous?" she asked the muran.
"I think I can," Charatetet said slowly, taking a quick glance over to Ra'yral. "I will do my best to stay out of sight--though I may be under feet more unless I can climb a lot of things."
"If there's trouble, you retreat and head back to our base of operations, or back to the ship. I don't want you to become a center of attention."
"I understand. It would compromise the mission."
Mayla shook her head. "It may not, but I don't want them to start investigating why a Muran Carnora is in the City."
Charatetet chittered with acknowledgement.  Ryramorl, in his role, would be easy to explain--himself, well, that would be harder as Carnora of ANY kind were rarely seen outside of the Antevas system and the surrounding areas.
Tiri then looked to the Trill and cleared her throat. “So how do we proceed, commander?” she asked. “I can provide all my hands-on experience about the Capital City. I spent a great deal of my youth there and my family still lives there. As I said in the briefing, I spoke with my brother just last night and he said the city is under curfew. Security is heavy right now after the incidents that have taken place.”
She waited to see what the commander would say…
"Well, first of all, I need to be able to play the part of an Andorian. That's a race I've never actually had to portray before. I will need your help with a few of the customs since we both will be females too." Mayla pulled up another file from the medical core and looked at the procedure she would have to go through to become an Andorian female. "I may also need some practice on the holodeck."
"I can definitely help you with that."
Mayla gave her a smile. "As for our infiltration, we need backgrounds made up and entered into the computer core on Andoria Prime so any investigation our cover would be solid. Then we will beam down directly from the Resurrection and start mingling immediately. Maybe find someplace to start spreading the word of a possible 'protest'. We'll need living quarters to work out of from."
She gave Sh'avelith a frown. "We have a lot to accomplish before 'Admiral' Thompson springs the trap."
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One,
Chief Shaman-Engineer Ray’eevar Goyakarakarak
Muransarak Academy, Muransarak, Carnor
Carnora Date:  The Darkness
Stardate 1902.12
The two Carnora prepared for their roles in their room, Reepchip turned to Ryramorl.  “Is there a way I can get in contact with Shaman Goyakarakarak?” he asked.
Ryramorl went to the console.  “I make no promises,” he said, but worked to establish a secure channel back to the Pentarchy.  It took some talking to get in contact with the elder cleric, but it turned out Ray’eevar was only too happy to give guidance to his distant student.  Ryramorl left their room so Reepchip could speak in private.  Besides, he wished to speak to Admiral MacLeod.
Reepchip asked for his mentor’s blessing, then spoke of how MacLeod had turned down the offered blessing and Inscribing on the Resurrection.  Ray’eevar sighed.  “You must understand that this admiral is completely correct,” said the elderly shaman-engineer.  “Inscribing the Five Thrones in the names of all the Carnora gods was a very delicate affair, and our races grew up together.  A blessing for races that did not know each other in their infancies would be far beyond even my ability to get right, Reepchip. No, this the gods bless more:  Loyal, diligent, and obedient service to your masters.  Without that, the best inscriptions are blasphemy.  Still, if you truly desire to bless the ship in our fashion, may I suggest that you do so in the name of the Guardian of Secrets.”
Reepchip grinned broadly--of course!  The Guardian of Secrets, as befitted Her nature, used no inscriptions whatsoever and a vessel could be blessed in Her name without its crew ever knowing.
“Now, as I know you have not had the opportunity, let us speak the Way Set Forth together,” said Ray’eevar, and Reepchip bowed his head, repeating the ancient phrases that his mentor spoke.  When the two were done the ancient ritual, Reepchip left his room to see what he could help the others with. 
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Ops Base One, Shadow Ops Deck.
Stardate 1902.13
Daryl was preparing his disguise. Below the official admiral’s uniform, he wore his SO fatigue. For this one time, he had prepared a special version of the admiral’s uniform, with some concealed pockets, so at least he could get some small knives along with him. He was pondering if he could get some more serious stuff along with him as he didn’t want to be a sitting duck when the ARF would strike.
He already had changed the setup of the personal cloak. Instead of cloaking, it now could shield him from phaser fire and partly for particle-based explosions. Shrapnel and projectile based weapons could still penetrate, especially high velocity projectiles, like bullets from a sniper, but at least it was something. The setup could be switched to cloak mode with the push of a button on his small wristpadd, so he could disappear for a short while if needed. But it would look funny, and probably suspicious when an admiral showed up with a backpack.
Daryl sighed and decided against more stuff. He knew it could get ugly on Andoria. But he still had the Carnora with him, and Jahkar and Raillius where also close by. Yet, he decided to get a backpack with more serious stuff ready. It probably would stay behind on the ship, but you never knew. Maybe he could have Jahkar or Raillius take some equipment with them.
After packing, Daryl went to the infirmary to get the isolinear tag injected. It only took a mere minute, and as he walked out of the infirmary again he walked back to the Shadow Ops deck, to see if he could help out Cody. Daryl almost bumped into Cody when he wanted to enter the SO deck, as the big New Zealander just walked out “Hey mate” Cody said. “I made some discoveries concerning the explosive devices.“
Daryl nodded “And?” he asked.
“The explosive itself is zanturium. Zanturium itself is effective, but hard to detonate. However, it reacts with certain proteins. It bonds very tightly with these proteins, causing quite an energy burst, mostly heat and some high frequent EM radiation. A few grams of zanturium is enough to burn a 5-inch hole in a duranium bulkhead. Imagine what it does to brain tissue. “
Cody tapped the side of his head with his hand.
Daryl grimaced. “Not a nice way to die” Then he wondered “But how do the proteins get to the zanturium...and how is it prevented that proteins in our body don’t randomly bond to the zanturium ?”
Cody tapped his padd and a holographic image appeared above the padd. “A nanite?” Daryl said. “What the heck…”
Cody nodded. “Yeah, a nanite. One that probably gathers some of the body’s aminoacids and can create the necessary proteins from them within seconds, and….BOOM”
“So...did you think of a way to disarm either the zanturium or the nanite ?” Daryl asked.
Cody shook his head. “Nanites can be disabled with bursts of gamma radiation. But I guess that there are nanites in the body, which means that we would have to use extensive gamma radiation to disable them. The bursts are pretty extreme and would cause radiation sickness to an extent. A phaser could be modified to emit bursts of gamma radiation. But since we would have to cover the whole body of the person, we would need a wide-angle beam. Meaning we could hit other people as well. I don’t think it’s the way to go.”
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One,
Stardate 1902.14
Reepchip stepped into the med bay to get injected with an isolinear chip.  As he hopped up onto the biobed, he asked the personnel what effect this would have on his body.
“Don’t worry,” said the doctor.  “You’d have to be microscopic in size before these tags began to interfere with your biological functions.  You murans are small, but you’re not that small.”
Once injected, Reepchip decided if he could help Cody as well.  He looked around until he could smell Cody and followed the scent to where Cody and Daryl were talking.  He was about to greet them--then got an idea.  The mine wall wasn’t hard to climb at all, but the ceiling was harder to cling to.  Still he managed until he was almost over them.  Hearing them talk about a nanite, he said, “how about an ion pulse to scramble the nanite?”  He grinned as they took a few seconds to realize he was clinging to the ceiling.
Lieutenant Daryl Thompson
Lieutenant Cody Beckett
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Outside SO Deck
Stardate 1902.15
Daryl looked around, as did Cody, as they were searching for the person who spoke. It took mere seconds before Cody looked up and grinned as he saw the small Carnora hanging upside down at the ceiling. “An ion burst you say?” Daryl continued. “I actually don’t know. Do you have experience with nanites?” he asked the Carnora.
Reepchip crawled to where he wouldn’t land on them or anything important, and dropped to the floor, flexing his hands and feet and wincing slightly.  Clinging to the ceiling was NOT easy, and it was something he didn’t want to do for an extended period of time. 
“Some--the Madcaps did quite a few experiments with them and, being electronic devices, I do know an electron pulse could scramble them at least temporarily, and without such a risk of radiation poisoning.  The other idea I had was maybe modifying a disrupter to target chemical bonds in zanturium to turn it into something else--maybe something that won’t explode or interact with proteins...” 
His speech slowed as he thought of something.  “Eeenter ideedee disdis,” he chattered, and began rattling off in something that might have been English, had not his muzzle contorted the sounds and his Muran speech patterns turned it unto barely-recognizable gabble.  Both humans had to ask him to slow down, and Reepchip repeated himself, taking care to properly say the English phonemes. 
“Another idea,” he said.  “I know certain drugs can affect how proteins work in the body.  Maybe we can find out what proteins this is reacting with, and find drugs that would inhibit that?”
Daryl shook his head. “That means we would have to inject the drugs when we capture an ARF member. Doing so costs time. And for the drug to enter the body and do its job costs time as well. “
He looked at Cody and Reepchip. “I'm all for the directed energy approach. Maybe combined with a stasis field.”
Reepchip chittered. “Injecting is easy,” he said.  “I brought my blowgun and darts with me; it’s a sport amongst the Muran, and I wanted to keep in practice. And the Andorian exoskeleton doesn’t cover their entire body, so a dart could still work. Maybe. And yes, it will take time to take effect, but when do you notice something is broken, if not when you want to use it? So, if I see the operatives before they strike, I can nail them with a little dart, and when their nanite tries activate the explosive, it has nothing to work with.  Another option we have is something that sort of looks like the protein the nanite is looking for but isn’t.  Or a nanite of our own that reprograms the nanite they carry.  Or an i-so-li-nar tag that interferes with the nanite--and that would allow us to transport the terrorist away as well.”
Cody nodded. “Injecting the targets with an inhibitor against forming the proteins might work,” he said. ”Injecting the tag, however, might be a little problematic. Or we have to figure out a way to create a sort of active dart, that really injects the tag or microscopic payload of nanites into the bloodstream. “
Cody looked at Reepchip. “Or do you already have these kind of devices? “He asked. Daryl just listened. He was skeptical about the plan. He didn't want to trust on these kind of lowtech ideas.
Reepchip had to admit he didn’t have anything that high tech--just a simple blowpipe and some plain darts that could be coated in a drug.  “But we could make something like a dart gun that would do this,” he said.  He saw Daryl’s skeptical look.  “You’re thinking about capture and keeping them alive completely backwards.  You are trying to capture, and then deactivate this explosive.  Nononononono.  Because they know they’ve been captured and they will try to commit suicide.  I am saying deactivate the explosive first.  Even if they realize what is going on, it is too late; the explosive is deactivated.  It is like making a bet on pickpocketing.  You pick the pocket, THEN you make the bet”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
Outside SO Deck
Stardate 1902.17
“Planning on picking pockets are we?”  She eyed Reepchip sternly, as she walked into the room.
Reepchip spun around, instantly in a Federation salute and his tail in proper bearing for the presence of a commanding officer. “Nonono Honoured Commander Railliusius. I was only using a metaphor.”  He spoke so quickly that the natural distortion of the English sounds was beginning to set in and he’d extended her name in the Muran fashion.
T’Aayla held her stern gaze for several seconds before giving a quick smile… "I know.”   It broadened as she saw the visible relief in the young ensign. He was very high strung and she hoped he’d relax a bit.
Turning to Cody, “I’d think along the lines of a stasis field, or a quick trip to a transporter buffer. If we can get a lock on them, say by tagging their clothing with a micro transporter enhancer, perhaps via that blowdart our small friend here seems to be fond of, we should be able to get a lock and get them in the process of dematerialization before they can consciously trigger it. Once in the transporter we can use it’s built in features to isolate and remove the explosives and the detonators. But that’s just one idea.”
She nonchalantly moved off to a console and started scrolling through reams of data on their target city.
Lt. Cody Beckett
Outside SO Deck
Stardate 1902.17
Cody nodded. But only relying on transporters would be a bad idea. The cities of Andoria where deep under the ice layers. The mass itself caused a signal loss of 40%. Let alone the diverse composition of these ice layers, scattering the signal all over the place. And then there was the quite active tectonic movement of the layers.
“Indeed a good plan. But interference of the huge ice layers might cause us problems with that. I already ran some simulations. Because these ice layers are constantly moving, the composition also continuously varies. Even with a boosted ACB, there are quite some moments which scatter the transporter signal, causing problems to keep a continuous lock. Beaming out might have some delays. That's why I think Reepchip's idea, to make the zanturium, the nanites, or the necessary proteins unusable, we can at least buy some time without our targets’ heads melting away.”
Cody looked at Reepchip. “We still have 2 hours before the Resurrection leaves. Care to join me in working out a prototype of the active darts before we leave?”
“Be glad to!” said Reepchip grinning broadly.
Colonel Jahkar
Ops Base One/U.S.S. Resurrection
Stardate 1902.16
Jahkar arrived on Resurrection about two hours before it was scheduled to depart. He stowed his gear in his quarters, then headed to the ship’s armory to have a look. He found much of the weapons and gear to be familiar, but there were a lot of new items in the ship’s inventory.
Following a tour of the armory, Jahkar headed to the bridge to have a look around there. Upon his arrival he encountered Captain Quentin Lazarus and several crew members making pre-launch calculations and going over reports.
The one-time cyborg captain turned to see Jahkar stroll into the bridge and he gave a smile.
“Having a look around?” Lazarus asked.
“Wanted to see what Starfleet gave us,” said the Marine. “I’m impressed. They may have skimped on the base, but the ship seems to be more than adequate.”
Lazarus smiled, “Indeed. This is a remarkable ship. As long as the coaxial drive works like it's supposed to, we’ll be fine.”
Jahkar nodded, “I must admit, the drive sounds...troubling. Are you at all confident it will work?”
“It works. We’ve made 36 successful jumps with it in testing. But we haven’t pushed it’s limits,” said Lazarus. “Every jump has to be calculated, taking every known factor into consideration.”
Jahkar smirked, “I was never good at navigation. Took some classes in Officer Training School. Decided I was better as boots on the ground...not as wings in the sky.”
“Our chief engineer has been with the coaxial drive program since it began. He has handled the drive, in testing,” said the captain. “He’ll be along for the ride for the foreseeable future.”
“That is somewhat of a relief,” said the marine. “It is good to be working with you again, captain.”
Lazarus offered his hand and the two shook, “LIkewise, colonel.”
Jahkar then headed back to his quarters to begin drawing up plans for the mission…
Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ops Base One/USS Resurrection
Stardate 1902.16
After his talk with Admiral MacLeod, Ryramorl stopped by the med bay to get injected, then took the time to load up his battle armour and Carnora more weapons into the armoury.  He wouldn’t be using them on THIS trip--if things went to plan.  After loading up the armoury, he went to the bridge as he could smell that Jahkar had gone that way.  He appreciated the professionalism of the crew on this ship as they glanced at him but did not gape.
As he entered the bridge, he happened to hear Jahkar and Captain Lazarus speaking.  His muzzle quirked as the marine mentioned the Federation skimping on the base.  As Jahkar left the bridge, Ryramorl grinned at him and decided to make a joke.  “Skimped on the base?  Colonel, skimped is when the tent is so leaky it rains harder inside than outside.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
SO Deck
Stardate 1902.18
Daryl wasn’t convinced about the solution Cody and Reepchip had thought out. But directed energy weapons was apparently a dead end in this case. If they had more time perhaps. As Cody and Reepchip went on with their idea, Daryl thought of his own things yet to arrange. He decided to pay Admiral MacLeod a visit.
Admiral Ian MacLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.18
MacLeod had set up shop in the office space provided for him on Ops Base One. His primary office space would be on USS Fearless, but he would maintain a place here when he was on the station.
Going over intelligence reports from across the Federation, he was distracted from his work when the door chime sounded. MacLeod set down the data padd he was reading and looked up, “Enter!”
The door slid open and Lt, Thompson walked into the room.
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 7: Andorian Crash Course ==
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One Workshop
Stardate 1902.21
Reepchip went back to his room to gather his sport pipe and some darts, then got directions to a workshop that he and Cody could meet up at.  He laid out his small blowpipe and tiny darts--which looked like large thorns--on a table, and awaited Cody’s arrival.
Lt. Cody Beckett
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.22
After Daryl and Reepchip left, Cody quickly saved all data and sent a copy to the Resurrection's computer storage as well, since they wouldn’t finish the job before they left. He also had to pack his gear. He was on a tight schedule! Since he would stay on the ship he wouldn’t need much weapons. If needed he could get weapons from the Resurrection's armory.
He walked quickly to his personal quarter. There, he grabbed his duffle bag, which he hadn't unpacked yet, and took his padd's with his own personal stuff on it, his utility belts, and two modified tricorders and put them in a small backpack. He threw the duffle bag onto his bunk and left his quarters. He asked the computer where Reepchip was, and moments later, he entered the Workshop where Reepchip already was.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.22
Reepchip chittered a hello to him, standing on the workshop table.  “Muran sportpipe,” he said, holding it up.  “And darts.  This is a traditional weapon amongst the Muran and though we don’t use it in combat much, dart blowing is still a sport amongst us.  I’m… reasonably good.”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
U.S.S. Resurrection
Stardate 1902.23
Having prepped for the mission by examining the arsenal, picking out potential gear and weapons, and examining the city they would be operating in for the mission to draw out the terrorists, T’Aayla decided a closer examination of their operational ship, the U.S.S. Resurrection was in order. Of specific interest to her was this new coaxial drive unit, still experimental, yet Starfleet felt it worthy of front-line testing. She wasn’t convinced. She understood the tactical advantage of making the types of jumps the Resurrection was capable of; who knew when and where they would have to respond; but she also found it a convenient excuse for their destruction if there was some sort of insider in the crew from Section 31, or the terrorist organization.  It would be a simple enough explanation for a “malfunction” to occur and for the whole ship and all of the Shadow Ops team to vanish in the blink of an eye. Her service under Senator Raillius had been an aberration of traditional Rihann fleet processes; Railius had no Tal Shiar minders on his ships and the loyalty of his crews were beyond question, but that wasn’t the case in most of the rest of the fleet. It was standard practice to view others with suspicion and have a backup plan, or countermeasures in place in the case of betrayal.   Although she hadn’t had to dealt with this on any of the Senator’s vessels, he had schooled her on just what it took to survive, advance and prosper in the rest of the fleet.  
First stop was the engine room.  She’d been through it before and had quickly scanned the coaxial drive mechanics, but this time she wanted to get a better “feel” of the Chief engineer, and for that matter, anyone else in engineering that had access to the coaxial drive.   
From what she had seen of the schematics, it closely resembled the type of jump capacities displayed in an old 21st century entertainment series entitled ‘Battlestar Galactica.’ Her friend Sierra Viswanathan, was a devotee of late twentieth century and early twenty-first century television shows and movies. It was she who had put her onto the show, as well as having described Admiral MacLeod as looking like Indiana Jones’ dad from the ‘Last Crusade.’
As the door swooshed open to review the engine room, she took in the gleaming neatness of everything; certainly, the Chief was a stickler for maintenance- that was a good sign. A quick scan of the room identified Chief Tommy Carmichael. He was hard to miss, being the biggest person in the room, over two meters tall and built like a football player or a Parisees Square’s champion.   
Reportedly he was a bit of a genius, having graduated from the Daystrom Institute in two years, as well as attending the Vulcan Science Academy, Banean engineering Academy and the Regulus III Science Academy. Despite his size and good looks, his reputation was that of a very quiet, shy man, with a bit of social awkwardness.  
She approached him, noting that he eyed her, but quickly went back to monitoring a readout once he was assured, she was someone who had access to the engine room. “Hi, Chief Carmichael, I’m Commander Raillius, attached to the Shadow Ops group here on Resurrection.  Nice to meet you.”
She extended a hand. Carmichael hesitated just a second, but grasped it in his paw, his huge hand engulfing hers, but his grasp was light and airy, and soft; certainly not what you’d expect from such a giant of a man.  
“Lieutenant Commander Carmichael, Ma’am” he responded a bit stiffly.   
She smiled a rare smile, to put the man at ease. “Yes, the man who graduated Daystrom in two years.   I’m glad you are the one that is assigned here to keep us from jumping into a Star or into quasi-multi-dimensional space.” She had quickly researched some of his work on possible ramifications of failed jumps.   
“Well,” he looked down shyly, “I’m just here to perfect the technology.  And, of course...keep everybody safe,” he added. “You’ve heard of quasi-multi-dimensional space?”   
“Just the concepts, I couldn’t produce a mathematical treatise on them by any means, however the interactions with Harochian quantum mechanics would probably be a starting point.”   
“You’ve heard of Harochian quantum mechanics?” he asked, his voice taking on a more excited timbre.
“Yes, haven’t you ever wanted to meet five identical versions of yourself and have a conversation?”  That made him smile she noted.  
“Or add in a dynamic temporal particle interruption in the primary matrix coupling and you could end up talking to multiple versions of yourself at different ages!”
She gave a cheery laugh, “I’m sure my older selves would tell my younger selves just how stupid we were, one cascading discussion from older to younger like a discussion in between a set of two mirrors.”   
This time he gave a hearty chuckle. “You’re pretty funny for a Vulcan.”
“Thanks, but I’m part human as well. Um, can I have my hand back?”
“Oh!  Of course,” he answered letting go, and starting to look embarrassed, but her warm smile let him no that no offense was taken.    
“So, tell me about this co-axial drive baby of yours.”
“Okay, so let me start with this display….”
Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1902.24
Carmichael seemed to open up more as he got into the complex theories and mechanics behind the coaxial drive. It was essentially a drive that opened a wormhole between two places. The drawback to the drive was it’s vulnerability to error when unexpected variables came into play during a jump.
For instance, one would not want to engage the drive in the midst of combat. While it would be quite useful to escape an enemy, or to reposition the ship to give it an advantage, the fluctuations of energy weapon discharge around the battlefield could cause the drive to error – putting the ship inside a star, or a planet or into another dimension. Using the coaxial drive to jump to some distant, uncharted portion of the galaxy could also prove deadly. Without having data about what is at a specific set of coordinates, it creates the possibility of warping into another celestial body, thus destroying the ship and killing the crew.
However, Resurrection had already made a number of successful test jumps and the chief engineer was confident the ship could handle whatever her maiden voyage threw at her. If the captain chose not to employ the drive, the ship still had a functional warp drive to get it where it needed to go.
Carmichael finished giving Raillius a tour of engineer and a full report on the coaxial drive, before announcing they were finished. “Is there anything, commander?”
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1902.24
Jahkar spent the time before launch familiarizing himself with the new weapons in the Shadow Ops armory. They had abandoned the old reliable M-75 rifles in favor of new Starfleet Type V Tactical Phasers.
Sniping rifles had changed as well. They were using something new called a Type VI Overwatch Phaser Rifle for sniping. The old Marine particle rifles had been swapped with new ones -- the new PR-226 Marine Pulse Rifles were weapons Jahkar had some familiarity with. He had been a consultant on development of the weapon after the Dominion War and subsequent years of R&D. He liked to think of the PR-226 as something akin to a child of his who had grown up, like his real children, and were now going out in the world on their own.
Still, for Jahkar personally, he favored smaller rifles -- not something as cumbersome as a pulse rifle. Still, the weapon had its uses in the field. Especially when heavy firepower was necessary.
Once finished with the inventory and having taken the new weapons down the holodeck where he employed a shooting range program, Jahkar stowed everything back where it belonged and headed up to the bridge to ready for their impending departure for Andoria.
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1902.24
Ryramorl asked if he could join Jahkar on the shooting range.  Unlike the hybrid, he found the larger pulse rifles more to his liking, appreciating how they were better suited to his larger frame.    His score was close to the Colonel’s as well, though Jahkar was still better.  As the two put their weapons back, Ryramorl said, “I’ll have to try these while in full armour sometime.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Admiral MacLeod's office
Stardate 1902.24
Daryl entered the office as the door opened.
The admiral seemed busy, slightly irritated. “What is it, Lieutenant? “
“Sir, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering whether you could provide me with some advice concerning my role as an admiral on our mission.”
MacLeod raised an eyebrow and looked at Daryl. Moments passed as he gazed at Daryl. Then he sat back. “You don’t need my advice for that. You are an SO operative. Besides that, you have enough experience under your belt to play this role, Lieutenant.“ He looked Daryl straight into the eyes. “Now tell me, what is the real reason you are here?”
Daryl exhaled slowly. “You are right, sir. I am sorry. I would like to know if you can help me finding or contacting the members of the old Bravo Squad. Daryl looked at MacLeod, awaiting his answer.
Admiral Ian McLeod
Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.24
MacLeod sighed and leaned back in his seat, placing his hands on the desk in front of him, palms down. “I can provide you with those who are still alive and who are not on classified duty.”
He turned to his console and tapped some commands into the computer. Data scrolled up on his screen and he tapped in a command that transferred the information to a data padd. Once he was finished, he slid the padd across to Thompson.
“I hope this is enough, lieutenant,” he said.
The padd scrolled up the following:
Alexander Tazhenkov – Deceased
Argonne Jasid – Assigned to Starfleet Intelligence, mission classified
Antonia Reece – Classified
Ayer – Whereabouts Unknown
Brian Kern – Assigned to Starfleet, rank commander, first officer USS Montana
Dara Ilia – Deceased
David Stone – Deceased
Davis MacMillian – Deceased
Desiree Klomden – Classified
Elizabeth Wilson – Deceased
Elocin Shea – No longer in Starfleet, civilian living on Earth
Greg Durham – Deceased
Harm Stone – Lt. Commander, USS Lexington
Jackson Bryce – Classified
Jahkar – Colonel, Federation Marine Corp, Earth
James Doblin – Deceased
John Sharpe – Deceased
Jonathan Tran – Commander, Starbase 047
K’guang Zhou – Deceased
Kindred Dakota – Classified
Kyril Vree – Classified
Louis LeBeau – Deceased
Lorenzo Jackson – Commander, USS Flagstaff
Mark Agrippa – Deceased
Ryramorl Ra'yral – Retired, Carnora Homeworld
Siedak – Classified
Sontag – Deceased
Suvok Jefferies – Deceased
T’Pru – Romulan Tal-Shiar
Taryn Kane – Deceased
Tam Elandar – Deceased
William McCulloch – Whereabouts unknow, wanted for acts of terrorism against the Federation
Lt. Cody Beckett
SO Deck Workshop
Stardate 1902.24
Cody stretched his muscles and checked the time. The Resurrection would disembark soon. He looked at Reepchip, who was sitting on the table, checking some data. “I think we should board the Resurrection and continue our work there.” Cody addressed the Muran.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
SO Deck Workshop.
Stardate 1902.24
Reepchip nodded, and the two gathered up what they had and headed for the Resurrection. The two went to Engineering as Reepchip thought that would be the best place to find somewhere to work.  Upon seeing one of the ship’s engineers, he perked up and chittered happily. “The first cog has 13 teeth, the second has 47.42, and the teeth on the third number the square root of minus Pi. For every turn of the first cog, how many does the third one turn?” he called out.
The engineer froze as the question was asked--then laughed aloud.  “Four times, and nobody knows how it works!  Reepchip, how the hell ARE you?!”
One of the others moaned, “Oh, no, there’s two of them!”
Commander Mayla Vree
Infirmary, Ops Base One
Stardate 1902.24
Mayla watched over the doctor's shoulder as he prepped the program that would surgically change her outer appearances. Sh'avelith also stood there overseeing the procedure.
"The Resurrection has a state of the art EMH and can perform the procedure," he said, checking for any nuances the procedure will have on Trill physiology. "After the procedure is done, you'll have to take a dosage from a hypo every 72 hours to keep your blue skin."
Mayla and Sh'avelith nodded. "How are the antennae controlled?"
"It has a nerve ending that will be attached to you, and it has a nano AI built into it to react to your physiology, just like an Andorian's." He gestured to another screen that showed what Mayla would look like after the procedure.
Mayla looked at Sh'avelith who gave her a nod. "It will pass. As long as you let me take the lead the conversations, it shouldn't be too hard to maintain our cover. Just keep your interactions with anyone to a minimum."
"And I'll keep contact with you over the subvocal," Mayla said.
"That will work."
"I'll be done with it before you leave," the doctor said confidently. "Glad to have you and your team with us, Commander."
Mayla was surprised by that comment, but didn't show it. "Glad to be here, Doctor. I'll check in with you again when we're about to depart."
"Got it."
Mayla and Sh'avelith left the Infirmary and headed to the holodeck. "I've set up a program of the capitol and the surrounding area of the apartment I've rented."
"Very well," Mayla responded. They had already spent two hours after the meeting gathering their gear, including the same type of explosives used in the recent attacks on Andoria Prime. "I'm going to rely on you the most while we're there."
Sh'avelith nodded almost nervously as they turned down another corridor.
"Commander Vree, a word," a gruff voice called from behind them. Captain Lazarus was walking towards them.
"I'll meet you in the holodeck." Mayla said, waving Sh'avelith to go on first.
When they were alone, he took her aside to a secluded alcove. "I just talked with the Admiral about your XO and the reasoning behind her recruitment."
Mayla folded her arms across her chest. "What did he say?"
"I can't tell you what he said, but he said he trusted her implicitly."
She just gave him a nod of understanding, and gave him a look as if she was expecting him to say more. "And?"
"I know one of your father's prior host was tortured and killed by the Romulans. Are you going to have any problems with her?"
"Did the Admiral tell you to ask me that?" she said with a slight bit of irritation in her tone.
"He did."
She shook her head. "That was a long time ago and I've come to terms about it."
"That's what Kyril told me once even though all but one of Bravo Squad's mission involving them always ended in treachery."
"And after that one mission he received the Sotarek Citation from the Romulan Senate that is traditionally only given to Romulan military personnel," she said. "Jahkar is half Romulan and Bravo Squad never had a problem with him." Her face turned hard and serious. "Is there some concern the Admiral has with her?"
Lazarus glared down at her. "I didn't say that, and I believe he was just asking about your welfare in the matter. I think he was more concerned with YOU."
"I'm fine with her," she said. "I'm genetically designed to be."
"No, you were genetically designed to be a warrior with implanted experiences and skills of a dozen legendary Linea warriors, not to have to get along with people whose history with you wasn't quite amicable." He said in a low, nearly whispered, growl.
"Then that's where my 'upbringing' comes into play along with the five Trill lifetimes I also have."
The two just stood there glaring at each other. Lazarus spoke first. She had always won in a staring contest with him. Her steely lavender eyes were so piercing sometimes he could literally feel the beam exiting the back of his head.
"Just watch your back."
Mayla nodded slowly. "So you're the one with the problem with her."
"I didn't say that," he interjected.
"Does this have anything to do with Erik Jaegar?" Mayla asked carefully.
"Maybe, partly," Lazarus said. "I thought I knew him. I trusted him."
"Treachery can come in many forms, sir. He betrayed all of us and many changes were implemented within the organization to prevent something like that from happening again. But if one is determined, they can circumvent any precautions we set."
"Dammit Vree, I don't want what I had to go through to happen to your team." Lazarus said with his voice rising in volume.
Mayla scoffed and shook her head. "Until my XO does something that contradicts what her duty role dictates, I will treat her with trust and respect as I would any member of a Shadow Ops team. I know you left Starfleet after the 'incident' and have been in the private sector since, but treachery occurs everywhere, and we have to learn to deal with it each in our own way. You in your own way, and me in my own way. Now if you would excuse me, Captain, I need to go learn how to be an Andorian." Without another word, she stormed off.
Lazarus' anger rose with each step she took as he watched her walk away, but it fell away when she gave him a hand signal indicating she understood his concern and thanked him for it. He shook his head as he was always reminded that this unique woman seemed to know what she's doing and could always see light years ahead and around him. But although she had a vast amount more of life experiences than he, he still worried about her.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1902.25
Sh'avelith was in the holodeck where she’d prepared a program to give Commander Vree a crash course in being Andorian. When the commander entered, the ensign stood there with a room full of Andorians, all conversing with one another, and interacting in varying scenes.
“Hello commander,” Tiri said. “I hope you’re ready for Andorian 101. Around us are Andorian engaged in various forms of communication with one another. Males interacting with males, females with females, males and females...I have covered just about every possible configuration.”
She allowed Vree to observe for a few minutes. Highlighting each of the various conversations around them, muting the others while one spoke. After a few minutes of observation, Tiri paused the program.
“Andorians were once a militaristic race. They considered it an honor to serve in their Imperial Guard, and military rank greatly influenced social reputation. Today, Andorians are somewhat enlightened, but not far removed from their warrior roots.  
“They deplore dishonesty – and never fighting without reason – Andorians are nonetheless
capable of duplicity. They consider themselves deeply emotional, passionate, even violent; and are not known for their charity or sympathy. Like Klingons, they place a high value on family.
“Andorians are well known for their determination and endurance in physical combat. On Andoria, they are taught how to fight with an ushaan-tor when they are children.”
“Ushaan-tor?” Mayla asked, frowning.
Tiri reached for a sheath on her belt. She opened it and removed a bladed weapon resembling a tiny Klingon bat’leth. The weapon was held in her hand, the jagged edged blade spanning across her knuckles.
“It is an ice-miner’s tool on Andoria, but is also used as a melee weapon. Our people are trained from when they are young to use one,” she said, demonstrating several martial arts moves with the ushaan-tor. “A once crucial part of Andorian tradition is the Ushaan, a code of honor demanding a duel to the death, with combatants pitted against one another using an ushaan-tor. A vast body of regulations – up to 12,000 amendments – bound this code. Such a fight could be called off if one combatant disabled the other enough to prevent its continuance. Though Ushaan could be called by someone to avenge a personal loss, there existed a right of substitution wherein each combatant could offer up a replacement, and married combatants could postpone duels indefinitely if they had no children to continue their clans.
“With its entry into the Federation, and as one of the founding members, duels to the death were banned. They only happen now very rarely and illegally.”
Tiri continued, “Andorians have a higher metabolic rate than Humans, which could theoretically permit a Human opponent to best an Andorian in hand-to-hand combat by simply exhausting them. This also makes us especially vulnerable to phase-pulse infection; even minor phase injuries could prove fatal. However, we’ve demonstrated resistance to a wide range of environmental conditions. In a climate where the temperature is near the boiling point of water, an Andorian could still thrive, despite losing tenpercent of their body weight in two days.”
She smiled, “I guess this all may be too much information. To the point, you will find my people rather...arrogant. Possibly even rude, especially to off-worlders. There is a slang term, it is not used often in this day and age, but it pre-dates the Federation...Andorians sometimes call humans pink-skins.”
Tiri looked to her commander, “Do you have any questions?”
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 8: Andoria Bound ==
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
U.S.S. Resurrection
Stardate 1902.28
It had been a full hour with Chief Carmichael and she wasn’t sure if there was a way to turn the man off once he was turned on.   Despite her own significant education, keeping up with Carmichael was intellectually difficult, and frankly somewhat exhausting. 
She reminded herself that she didn’t get tried as humans did, and that if need be, her Rihannsu physiology could go for days without rest or sleep at a time, just like Vulcans. She continued soaking up everything he explained about the co-axial drive.  She encouraged him with a question that showed both her understanding and deliberately allowed a bit of admiration to show through which encouraged him to continue. 
She laughed softly at his nerdy engineering jokes and molded her personality to his. It was a skill she had observed and learned on ch’Rihan, the social blending that all lower class Rihansuu servants had been required to learn and affect. She had hated it at the time, but she had learned, and had risen through the ranks of her Hru’hfe’s house.  
She actually liked the man and found his intelligence impressive, so it wasn’t hard. A smile, an extended look, slightly widened eyes and larger pupils, all combined to make an impact on the Chief. He beamed with pride and gushed about the intricacies of the new drive.  By now the rest of the engineering crew were starting to wonder if the two Commanders conversing at the main engineering console were childhood buddies.  
“That is quite the system,” she finally concluded once the Chief had covered the main operations of the drive, “We’ll have to get into some greater detail later.”
“Yeah,... I’d like that.”
“Definitely!”  She smiled, lightly brushed his sleeve with her hand and gave it a slight tug, “Why don’t you introduce me to the rest of your engineering team” she prompted.   
“Of course. This is the Assistant Chief Engineer….”     
She followed him around as he introduced the engineering team to her. She used her practiced skills of observation to observe every nuance of each crewmember, memorizing details, and understanding their place in the engineering family. Each Rihan House and every member of Rihannsu society was acutely aware of where they stood socially, how connections operated, and the complex personal interactions that were necessary for survival. By the time she left engineering, she knew exactly how it operated. After all, engineering was the heart of the ship. Without the heart, the body would die. The bridge was the brain, but everything depended on engineering to survive.      
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1902.28
Ryramorl looked through the armoury at the weapons and armour.  He looked at the personal armour meant for him and how closely it would fit.  He then looked at his old Bodyguard Armour and realized that he could possibly wear the two sets together--though it would be best to try that when they weren’t on an official mission.  He was currently in uniform as an aide to “Admiral Daren Bridwell” and wondered if he should put on the personal armour under his disguise. He also noticed that there was no such armour for Reepchip, and gave a brief prayer to the Sentinel for protection to the small Carnora. He decided to defer to his Commanding Officer’s wisdom on wearing personal armour. When he next saw Mayla Vree, he would ask.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Star Base One - Admiral MacLeod's Office
Stardate 1902.28
Daryl took the padd which held the list he probably already knew about.
He glanced over it, and indeed, it didn't reveal any new info. He looked at the admiral and nodded.
“Thank you sir. ” The admiral cracked a quick half smile, barely noticeable. Almost as if he felt sorry he couldn't provide Daryl with more info.
“Is there anything else, Lieutenant?” MacLeod asked.
“No sir, that would be all,” Daryl replied.
MacLeod nodded “Dismissed”
“Aye sir,” Daryl turned around, and left the office.
He felt disappointed. Not towards MacLeod, he had done what he could. It was more in general. Bravo Squad had been his family. And he missed them. Even after so many years. Mayla Vree was the closest connection to Bravo Squad. Though she was only a child back then. As he walked back to his quarters, he pondered more about the subject. He could hack into Starfleet databases to find out where his old comrades where. On the other hand, was it worth it?
Still deep in thoughts, Daryl absently turned around the corner and promptly bumped into someone. He stumbled back, mumbling that he was sorry, then he noticed the very familiar face.
“Daryl!” the ginger woman exclaimed. She smiled and stepped forward and gave the surprised Lieutenant a tight hug.
“Darva?” Daryl brought out “What are you doing here?" Daryl hugged her back, as he was very happy, yet bewildered to see her.
“I just got here, I have been reassigned to the USS Resurrection as First Security Officer. “
Daryl frowned in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me…”
Darva smiled mysteriously. “Yeah, I know all about Shadow Ops being reinstated and you being part of the team.”
“So you knew where I was and what I was doing..”
“Only since today when I was briefed,” Darva stated as she looked Daryl in the eyes. She stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek. “I missed you” she whispered.
“I missed you too.” he said. Even though it had been mere days since Daryl had left Earth, it felt like weeks. Daryl smiled. “Well, well, Head of Security, congratulations!”
“Yeah, someone has to keep an eye you” she said, while she winked. “Making sure you stay out of trouble” she continued, while she straightened her uniform. “Care to join me? I was on my way to the Resurrection.
Daryl shook his head. “I am sorry. I need to prepare myself for the mission. But we will talk once we are underway.” Daryl took her hands and kissed them gently.
“So, see you onboard, ok?” Darva nodded and smiled.
"Ok” He let go of her, and blew her a kiss, before he turned another corner and disappeared out of sight. As he wanted to enter his quarters, he heard a gruff, familiar voice call his name. He looked in the direction where it came from and saw Captain Lazarus approaching him. Daryl could guess why Lazarus addressed him.
“Are you involved with Lt. Commander MacGuirre?” Lazarus asked as he stood in front of Daryl.
“Yes, I am” Daryl answered.
Lazarus nodded. “I'm not forbidding you to see each other but keep it professional. Can I trust you on that, Lt. Thompson?” Lazarus' eyes locked on Daryl's.
“Yes sir, you can.” Daryl replied once more. Lazarus kept his gaze on Daryl, as if he tried to see through him.
“If I notice it will influence your or her judgement, I will have her transferred. Is that clear?”
Daryl nodded. “Yes sir. Very clear. I will make sure that that will not happen.” Daryl spoke.
Lazarus nodded again, slowly. “Good. We leave within the hour. Don't be late.”
Daryl nodded once. “I won't sir.” With a last nod, Lazarus turned around and walked away. Daryl entered his quarters and sat at the desk. He tapped his commbadge and opened a channel to Ryramorl. “Thompson to Ryramorl….”
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral & Lt. Daryl Thompson
Star Base One
Stardate 1902.28
“Ryramorl oragh Tomshorn” Ryramorl responded in his own language.  “What is it?” he added in English.
“Just checking if you are ready and have prepared everything for the mission.” Daryl asked. “Maybe we should spend some time on our roles and have a check on a plan b when things go south.”
“I have, sir,” replied Ryramorl.  “Where do you want to meet, so we can become comfortable in our roles?”
“Meet me in holodeck 2. “Daryl replied.
“Will be there.”  Ryramorl departed the Resurrection to meet up with Daryl Thompson, already wearing his disguise as an aide.
Daryl had found a program for the holodeck sim. It was an Andorian setting. One of Ensign Shaveleeth. It would fit quite nice for them. He made a few quick modifications to it, started the upload and made his way to the holodeck. Ryramorl was already waiting at the entrance.
Ryramorl gave him a very proper Federation salute, befitting his role as an aide.  
“Very good. Let's see how Andorian behave when they see us. The simulation seems to be some kind of casual setting. I've tweaked it a little. We will be welcomed by a small detachment of highly placed military officers “
Daryl stepped inside the holodeck, where dozens of Andorians were mingling, talking and doing their own thing in what seemed to be a huge square with big garden around it in front of a large building. The sky was a huge dome of ice, artificially illuminated. Daryl looked around. At the edge of the square, military was patrolling. A little further, a small group of decorated, high ranked officers with a small detachment of heavily armed operatives were waiting. Daryl noticed a lot of the Andorians were looking, or even glaring at Ryramorl. The small group of officers noticed them, and after a short conversation between a few of them, they walked towards Daryl and Ryramorl.  The operatives had their weapons ready. “Well that seems like a friendly bunch” Daryl whispered.
Ryramorl didn’t flinch, though he kept his paw as near his own sidearm as he could while maintaining the proper bearing of a Federation Admiral’s assistant.  He didn’t want to escalate this and risk the mission.  “The Andorian I roomed with at the Academy was so ‘friendly’ we nearly killed each other,” he whispered back.
Daryl looked at Ryramorl. He knew better than to pick a fight with the Carnora. He didn’t have much experience with Andorians, so that roommate must have been stir crazy. Or? Andorians were though, and fierce and proud fighters, he knew that. But physically they weren't much stronger than a well trained human. Daryl made a mental remark about the fact that an Andorian would pick a fight with a Carnora, then paid attention to the small delegation that almost was with them.
The highest ranked officers, a captain, spoke. “Admiral Bridwel, welcome to Andoria, welcome in our prime city. My name is Captain Thalen th'Chani. It is my duty and pride to escort you to our security delegate, with whom you will speak about the matters of concern.
Daryl nodded.
Commander Mayla Vree
Ops Base One
Stardate 1903.04
Mayla learned the nuances of Andorian social queues and etiquette carefully in the holodeck, asking Sh'avelith questions along the way. The melee weapon she showed her was simple enough to use as Mayla had the memories and experience of several hundred different types of melee weapons. She just need to adapt one of the styles to the advantages of this one.
She wasn't worried about fighting. If needed, she could fight her way off the planet. She was more worried about blowing their cover because of some verbal or physical slip up that may cause suspicion drawn to her and Sh'avelith.
"Our cover story won't give us a heavy military background, but we have to be 'simple' enough to be 'persuaded' to join the cause of the ARF. No doubt a more expansive military background would be more attractive to them, but everyone knows everyone in the military and all it would take to blow our cover is for someone to know who we were 'supposed' to have served with."
Mayla nodded, agreeing with her. "We don't want to take that chance," she said, twirling the Andorian melee weapon around her hand and fingers.
"So now we know why I was assigned to this team," Sh'avelith said after a pause. "I'm sure you viewed my dossier."
"I have trust in the Admiral to assign the appropriate people to the team whose particular skills are needed." Mayla said, watching an Andorian couple across the room.
"Have you served with him before?" Sh'avelith asked, gesturing to an altercation occurring between two males on the other side of the room.
"No, I haven't. But I have read reports about him when Shadow Operations was in active duty."
"You were already in Shadow Operations?"
"I was."
"So this is all familiar to you; this type of mission."
"I've never been to Andoria Prime before," Mayla admitted.
"It'll be an experience for you then."
"What isn't?" Mayla said, moving towards the two males who were starting to argue.
USS Resurrection
Ops Base One
Stardate 1903.04
In the open cavern of the asteroid base, the running lights aboard USS Resurrection suddenly came on, as did the primary light illuminating the ship’s name and registry emblazoned on the hull.
On the bridge, Captain Quentin Lazarus sat in his command chair and handed off the last data padd containing pre-launch data to his yeoman, Ensign Aurelia Sentaa, a Deltan woman. Lazarus then opened a shipwide channel, “Crew of the Resuurection, this is Captain Lazarus. The ship is ready to depart. We will be en route to Andoria shortly. We intend to take the trip via warp drive, reserving the coaxial drive until needed. Our ETA at Andoria is four hours at warp 6. Lazarus out.”
He then turned to the helmsman and nodded, “Take us out, lieutenant. Let’s get this show on the road.”
== S1, E2, Act 9: The Trip to Andoria ==
Admiral Sorvek
Federation Capital
Paris, Earth
Stardate 1903.06
Admiral Sorvek beamed into the Federation’s Command Center in Paris, France and was immediately scanned by two Federation Marines posted in the transporter room.
Sorvek found the scan to be most illogical, since the transporter would have detected any weapons, were he carrying one, and would have deactivated them before reassembling his molecules on the transport pad. The same would hold true for explosives, bio-agents or other weapons of mass destruction.
Also, he reminded himself as the marines scanned him, every alarm in the place would have been set off and he would have been transported directly into a holding cell in some secure location.
But the admiral would indulge the security officers. They were only doing their duty. When they finally cleared the Vulcan admiral, he nodded to the men and continued into the building. Outside the transporter room, he was greeted by another Marine, who saluted and stood at attention.
“At ease, corporal,” said Sorvek.
“Sir,” the marine said, standing down. “If you’ll come with me.”
“By all means,” Sorvek said, allowing the marine to escort him to the office of the president. Sorvek knew security had to be tight. The unrest in the Federation was worse than he’d ever seen. No internal threat had ever shaken the Federation like this had. The Vulcan understood the need for security, in fact, to act otherwise would have been, admittedly, illogical.
They arrived soon after at the door to the president’s office. The marine opened the door and allowed Sorvek to enter. When he stepped in, he saw a man seated at a desk. The man was in his mid-40s, tall and of an average build. His hair was dark, with some gray and he had a stern face with crystal blue eyes.
President Aaron Gant looked up from a data padd and smiled. The president stood, his finely tailored suit falling into place as he straightened his body and stepped from behind his desk. He approached Sorvek with a hand extended, which the Vulcan accepted with his own.
“Admiral Sorvek,” Gant said. “I’m glad you could come. I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
“No sir,” Sorvek told the president. “I was not engaged in anything pressing. What can I do for you?”
Gant motioned to a chair, “Sit, admiral. Let’s talk.”
Sorvek took a chair and was seated, watching Gant as he took his own seat behind the desk. Sorvek knew it was in moments of silence like this that humans like to make what they called “small talk.” Sorvek had never been one to engage in such trivial conversation. He preferred to get right to the point and bided his time until Gant spoke.
“Admiral, can you tell me if you’ve re-activated Shadow Operations?” Gant asked, picking up a data padd from his desk. “Because I came across this report from Starfleet Intelligence today that indicates you assigned the prototype USS Resurrection to Admiral MacLeod and its mission is classified.”
Sorvek raised an eyebrow, “And by these facts you have reached the conclusion Shadow Operations has been reactivated?”
Gant gave a slight smile, “Admiral. MacLeod is involved. A prototype ship has been given a mysterious assignment. Please, don’t lie to me. You’re a Vulcan, you can’t lie.”
“Indeed,” the admiral said. “You instructed me to get to the bottom of the unrest plaguing the Federation. Starfleet Intelligence and its methods have been unsuccessful in achieving this requisite. So MacLeod and I are attempting an unorthodox approach. Reactivating a team of Shadow operators and sending them to find out who is behind the terrorist attacks.”
“I see,” said Gant, looking disappointed. “Sorvek, you know I led the effort to shutdown both Section 31 and Shadow Operations. This is flagrant disregard of the wishes of the Federation Council and of the president.”
Sorvek shifted slightly in his seat, “Again, your exact words to me at the last briefing was to do whatever was necessary to get results. I have exhausted all other means of exposing this plot, Shadow Operations is the only option I have at my disposal.”
Gant sighed. “Maverick intelligence agencies running amok. That is why the Intelligence Services Act was approved eight years ago. It brought all Federation intelligence gathering under one roof. And you just go ahead a start-up an autonomous agency without any sort of authorization or approval.”
“I was under the impression you wanted results,” Sorvek said. “I am just doing what you asked me to do.”
“Dammit,” Gant gritted his teeth. “Fine. If I can’t control you, then I’m damn well going to have to support you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Sorvek.
“Can you at least tell me where they are? Who’s assigned to the team?” Gant asked. “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
Sorvek slowly shook his head, “I am sorry, Mr. President. Until we know who is behind this plot, we will keep this investigation under wraps. You’ll be briefed when the time is right.”
Gant gave a look of frustration, rolled his eyes and sighed again, “Of course. But I expect a full report when you’re ready. Meanwhile, I will stay in the dark.”
“Mr. Gant,” the Vulcan said. “I hope once this matter is resolved, we can re-examine the Intelligence Services Act and see about restoring Shadow Operations permanently.”
Gant stood up and folded his arms across his chest. He then began to pace the room as he spoke, “Sorvek, when I introduced the ISA eight years ago I did so to end the overzealous, dangerous and misguided actions of Section 31. Shadow Ops was collateral damage. I owe my life to Shadow Ops. If those operatives led by Commander Jack Dark had not rescued me from Kazis, I wouldn’t have become president. I wouldn’t be here, period. But organizations like Section 31 and SO needed to be reigned in. What I did, I did for the greater good of the Federation.”
“All I am asking, Mr. President, is that you consider permanently restoring Shadow Operations once this investigation is over and the conspiracy is exposed,” said Sorvek. “I am aware of your reasons for disbanding both agencies. I only believe the termination of Section 31 was a logical step.”
Gant laughed, “Are you saying I’m illogical, admiral?”
“As a human, you are unable to be anything else, Mr. President,” Sorvek said.
Gant came around behind Sorvek’s chair and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Very well, Sorvek. We’ll see how this all turns out and we can discuss it further at that time. Thank you for coming today.”
Sorvek stood up and turned to shake hands with the president once more. He then turned and walked from the room, returning to the transporter room so he could return to San Francisco.
Once the door had closed, Gant gave a deep sigh, then returned to his desk. He tapped a button on the desk console and opened a comm-line. “Get me all the files on former Shadow Operations personnel, current Starfleet Intelligence personnel who have been recently re-assigned and details on the USS Resurrection.”
A voice on the other end of the channel responded, “Yes, sir.”
Hroljarus Andruvar, Head of Carnora Special Forces Records
Sarsi Reeshesheh
Capital City, Carnor
Carnora Date:  Approaching The King
Stardate 1903.07
In the confines of the Palace of the Five Kings, Hroljarus was doing some paperwork when Sarsi--one of those who monitored activity on the Special Forces computers, rang a chime and entered at the crippled Olvern’s invitation.  “Someone is trying to access the file of Guard Ryramorl Ra’yral,” the small Muran said.
Hroljarus went with him to look at the computer’s logs.  Thus far there’d been two attempts.  He leaned on his crutches and frowned.  As head of records, he knew Ryramorl was assigned by Writ--and it wouldn’t do for anyone to know why.  “Have you traced it?”
“The best I can do is suggest it is coming from the Federation,” he said.
Hroljarus considered.  “Put together a cover story for them to find.  Something about…”  he grinned.  “Something about the probe in the Great Ring Sea, and Ryramorl is on special assignment to investigate an apparent tie with President Aaron Gant.”  Hroljarus had seen President Gant through newsfeeds and had no respect for him whatsoever.  The Olvern also knew that some in the Federation thought the Carnora were a race of savage lunatics, and the possibility that they were baring their teeth Gant’s way should give the human pissant a nightmare or two.  He’d send a message to the OverKings of this new development.  Shor-Ghan, if no-one else, would likely get a snicker out of it.
“We also got a ping on Rygaran D’hronarin’s file,” Sarsi continued.
“I almost forgot he’d been in Shadow Ops,” rumbled Hroljarus, finding a seat and sitting down.  “He’s leading an expedition to protect Carnora mining operations at a Federation colony, and his mission isn’t classified.  That may work to our advantage.”
“And if they don’t believe this and keep poking?”
“Then let them find a venta in this burrow.”
Sarsi bowed and went to do as he was told--both the cover story, and the computing equivalent of a venta’s venomous bite.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.08
Reepchip had promised to catch up with the engineer he’d greeted with that bizarre question and went to Cody to a place where they could work.  He set out the thornlike darts. 
“Maybe we could use some sort of gel or liquid to hold the nanites to the dart,” he said.  “Not only that, but why not combine both the transporter tag and the nanite?”  He looked over to see if Cody had any tags or nanites with him.  “That way, we’ve got both bases covered.”
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.08
As the Andorian officers approached, Ryramorl saluted silently, keeping his tail at a respectful bearing.  He hid his nervousness, although this was a disguise he was unused to.  Extensive training in the Special Forces had taught him to keep even his scent under control.  Still, he remained the proper attendant; much like bodyguards back on Carnor, he allowed himself to be seen if looked at, but not heard.
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.09
Jahkar had arranged some training sims for the team to allow them to familiarize themselves with new Shadow Operations weapons, armor and gear. He then began to do some research into the terrorist organization on Andoria Prime called the Andorian Revolutionary Front. The background on this group was interesting, to say the least.
Once he was finished pouring over the data, he located Commander Raillius and approached her in the corridors of Resurrection.
“Commander, may I have a word,” he asked.
Once they’d stopped in the corridor, Jahkar handed her a data padd, keeping another for himself. “I’ve gone over the intelligence provided at the briefing and I have made some unusual observations about this...terrorist group.
“The ARF began a student group in some of Andoria’s colleges and universities 15 years ago. It seems in the years after the Dominion War, a movement among the younger Andorians became popular. The idea that Andoria should leave the Federation and return to its early roots as an empire. The organization was mostly a club of spoiled Andorian teens and college age young people who were enthralled by the idea of Andorians governing themselves, a return to earlier caste systems and in the idea of the rich leading the poor.
“ARF was never taken seriously, until three years ago when suddenly they seemed to militarize overnight,” Jahkar continued. “This organization then began to acquire weapons, explosives and new faces began to join the original student base. Andorian criminals, ex-military and mercenaries. They began to move on from protests on college campuses and passing out literature to bombings, shootings and assassination.
“They are now targeting Federation and Starfleet targets on Andorian worlds. All of their membership has been driven underground and many of the students who made up their ranks have been killed. Their deaths have been blamed by the organization on Starfleet, but in reality investigators believe the youth who founded and backed the organization for years have been purged by the more militant elements of the group.”
The half-Romulan/Klingon looked sternly at Raillius and gave a deep frown, “I do not believe, based on the targets the ARF have chosen in the past 12 months, that they will simply attempt to kidnap Thompson. I believe, if they go for the bait, they will try to kill him. And it may not be at close range...they may use explosives or some other means of killing him remotely.”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.10
T’Aayla allowed her expression to match Colonel Jahkar’s frown.   
“I agree with your assessment of the ARF. It is standard practice in the terrorist playbook to take an existing group, infiltrate it, and then use it for one’s own purposes. The original student group is not the actual driver behind the ARF.   The people running the ARF are likely operatives or agents of the larger group that is fomenting unrest on other Federation worlds.  I suspect they are all linked, otherwise why go to the trouble of implanting suicide devices in their operatives. Terrorists segment themselves for safety so that if one cell is compromised, the others are not impacted.  We saw that with the Maquis, and we’ve seen it in pretty much every other terrorist movement. We also see that practice in many covert operations run by effective Intelligence Agencies; certainly the Tal Shiar act that way; first for safety and secondly for plausible deniability if caught. The larger terrorist group is well funded, well organized, but perhaps more importantly, its members are dedicated. You need dedication to allow a suicide device to be implanted in your head. No, you’re right, the original students themselves aren’t the driving force behind the ARF.  Earth’s history is replete with examples of student uprisings being harnessed and used for more nefarious purposes. I imagine the same may be said for Andoria, although I am not an expert on Andorian history. 
“I also share your concerns for Lieutenants Thompson and Ra’yral, not to mention any innocent bystanders who may be killed or wounded in an explosion; this is definitely a high-risk mission. A holoperson with a mobile emitter would be a safer route for the targets, however that would not be nearly as effective as live bait that doesn’t rely on sensor masking would be.  I’m sure they’ll verify their targets before moving on them.  And yes, I surmise the odds are in the favor of an explosive device first, an assassin’s projectile second, and a kidnapping third. For our plan to work, Commander Vree must use the attempt to intervene and get the attention of the terrorists during or after the attack. That means she’ll need to be close by when it happens.  She can’t shadow them consistently, otherwise that will be noticed. We’ll have to hope that the attempt fails, there is a messy scene and we have some way of targeting the terrorists which will allow Commander Vree and Lieutenant S’havelith to intervene and draw the positive attention of the terrorists.”
“That’s a lot of ifs for an operation;  far more than I’m comfortable with,” Jahkar growled.
“Agreed, many things will have to fall into place for this to succeed. Assuming a bomb is the preferred method we should prioritize our countermeasures accordingly. As a protective detail, that will be expected. We’ll need to have electronic counter-measures in place to disrupt any detonation frequencies or transmissions, and have a combination of personal, portable, and ship extended forcefield systems in place. We’ll also need to protect against snipers.   We may be able to change the odds if we do a visibly good job to prevent a bombing, or sniper attack, and leave an opening for a less lethal kidnapping. Your thoughts Colonel?”   
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.11
Jahkar managed a faint smile, “So we make kidnapping their only option? And we use Thompson as bait. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”
Slowly the half-Klingon/Romulan nodded, “I’ll try to work out every contingency I can. Anything else?”
Commande T’Aayla Raillius
USS Redurrection
Stardate 1903.11
“Kidnapping is preferable to being blown up or shot through the head. I don’t think he’ll hold that against us. Besides, if it is a kidnapping, we’ll have a chance to foil it and an extended period of time for The Commander and Lieutenant S’haverith to get involved. Let’s try to make it as hard as possible for the enemy, Colonel.”
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.13
Tiri ran Mayla through various simulations with Andorian holo-characters who were programmed to present the commander with scenarios that placed her in a variety of situations. The AI controlling the Andorian characters analyzed Vree’s performance in each, determining if she would avoid detection in her disguise, as well as being able to fool their Andorian social programming.
It took a number of attempts, but it wasn’t long before Vree was able to fool the holodeck characters. Admittedly, as an Andorian herself, Tiri found the commander’s performance to be top notch. She caught on quick and that made the training session go by quickly.
When they had run through the entire program twice, Tiri turned to Mayla and smiled, “I’d say you’re ready. No one on my homeworld will know you’re actually a pink-skin.” The Andorian grinned, “so do you feel ready, commander?”
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 10: Final Briefing ==
Andorian Capitol
Stardate 1903.14
In the center of the city of Andor, there was a subterranean forest which had flourished under the lighting Andorians had created using technology which collected ultraviolet light from the surface and redirected it to massive underground caverns where their cities were located. Geothermal energy was also utilized to power the cities.
Centuries earlier, the Andorian people had migrated from the surface to the interior of the icy moon they called home. They learned to harness solar energy from above and geothermal energy from below to give them a better life away from the frigid, frozen surface of the moon.
Andor was a spectacular city, rising hundreds of meters all around the forest. More than 10 million Andorians lived here. Andoria has four continents divided into two landmasses. Covering the northern pole is the Issa ice cap, a continent of its own. Covering the south pole is the Tlanek ice cap, which links to Voral, which links to Ka'thela. The three primary bodies of water on Andoria are the La'Len and Anshim oceans, and the La'Vorsea.
Andor was in the Ka’thela continent and there were several other massive cities located there, spread across the landmass. Must were below ground, but a couple of the more ancient cities still existed on the surface – despite its inhospitality.
In the middle of the thick forest, five figures materialized in swirling columns of light. Five Andorians stood there, dressed in civilian clothes, looking around at their surroundings. Seconds later, three more Andorians emerged from the foliage and approached the five who had beamed in.
“Greetings,” one of the three male Andorians said who had been waiting in the woods. “I am Shas Th'ozhiasros.”
“You are the leader of the ARF,” one of the five replied, stepping forward. “We have been sent by Archangel to assist you as your group moves toward its ultimate objective.”
Th'ozhiasros offered a faint smile, his face beaming with satisfaction, “Almost everything is ready. Our troops are ready for the challenges that lie ahead.”
“Good,” the leader of the three replied.
“You know who I am, but what do I call you?” Th'ozhiasros asked.
“You may call me Seraph,” the Andorian replied. “Tell me, have you devised a diversion yet.”
Shas looked to his colleagues and then back to Seraph.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “Security is tight in the city. All of the targets we’ve done reconnaissance on are heavily guarded.”
Seraph looked disappointed. “If we are to attack and destroy the objective, you will need to find a suitable diversion. It cannot be done unless Andorian security forces are redirected.”
“Security will become lax in a couple more days, we’ve taken our instigators off the streets,” Th'ozhiasros said. “We wait to strike again, then you will have your diversion.”
Seraph suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Th'ozhiasros by the front of his tunic, yanking him face-to-face. “Your attacks have been careless! You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest in Andor! You’re drawing unwanted attention from Starfleet. We can deal with Andorian security forces…but Archangel believes Starfleet Special Forces may be on their way here.”
Shas struggled in Seraph’s grasp, trying to pull away from his firm grip, “That is why you’re here. You promised you’d help us, that you’d bolster our numbers here and provide us with weapons and equipment.”
“Which we have done!” Seraph hissed.
“You also promised you would deal with any Starfleet threat. In fact, you said Archangel would see to it personally Starfleet did not get involved,” Shas barked. “We cannot risk a public incident until security is lessened.”
“Go back to Andor, find a target and when you do, let me know,” Seraph said, letting go of Shas. “Do as I say and we will give you support to carry out the attack.”
Shas slowly nodded, straightening his tunic. “What about this special forces group?”
“If they come, we’ll deal with them,” Seraph said. “Take these three men with you, they will act as advisors. I expect you to listen to them.”
Th'ozhiasros nodded, “Very well,” he replied, as the three stepped forward from Seraph’s ranks.
Seraph and his remaining lieutenant then turned and stepped back from the group, “Do not disappoint me, Shas. The Legion expects you to uphold your end of the deal. Do not fail us.”
He then keyed his communicator and a moment later, he and his colleague were enveloped in a transporter beam and disappeared, leaving the ARF group and Seraph’s three “advisors” to make the hike back to Andor.
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection holodeck
Stardate 1903.16
The ship was on its way to Andoria Prime. The trip there was nearly the equivalent distance to Vulcan. This allowed them time to continue to prepare for the mission. The small holodeck on the Resurrection was busy. The new generation holodecks allowed multiple sims to be run concurrently in the same room; compartmentalized into different sectors of the single room. Mayla knew Roar and Jahkar had other sims running in the other parts of the holodeck. She wanted to squeeze in some time to practice with the Andorian ushaan-tor weapon. Sh'avelith suggested a few sims from several 'warrior elders' of the weapon with slightly different styles compiled over the vast history of usage of the tool turned into a weapon.
Mayla caught on to the basics quickly as she was already very familiar with many forms of weapons usage and fighting techniques. Along with her Dragon Palm holodeck training from former Bravo Squad member-James Doblin, her additional memories and experiences of a weapons master of the Delphine Blade gave her an insight even many assassins within the Blade will never have. To train for just a weapons' usage is far below the art of the weapon's true purpose. Its usage stems from the original purpose of the weapon, and all the movements and wounds inflicted branch off from its core purpose.
In about an hour and a half, she had ran through several gauntlets of training with the various weapons elders, which also included other weapons she was determined to learn. The chaka, for one, was similar to the ushaan-tor with just subtle differences. She found it challenging to confine her movements and attacks based only on Andorian styles and techniques as to not cause suspicion. She played out a few vids of a few Andorian 'fights' and adapted her movements to them. She was confident she could fight her way out of any situation, but to do it only based on a single style made her feel restricted. But for the mission, she would adapt. It was in her genetics.
Sh'avelith had left her when her social 'training' was done and she felt confident enough that Mayla wouldn't stand out in an Andorian crowd. They were rapidly approaching Andoria Prime and they had to be ready to deploy as soon as they arrived ahead of the 'admiral's' arrival. She and Sh'avelith had to establish themselves as malcontents in order to get the ARF's attention.
She looked down at the ushaan-tor in each of her hands as she finished the last gauntlet of fighters. The holographic elder stepped forward and stood in front of her. He made a few gestures of his hands in some type of ritual she was unknown with. "From this day forward, your name shall be Soli Zh'iviannil."
"Elder, I do not understand," Mayla said, surprised by the proclamation. She wasn't quite sure where the program was going with this.
"I have measured your passion, your spirit, your bravery, and your skill. Soli Zh'iviannil embodies the agelessness wisdom of your shola (soul)."
Mayla remained silent, still baffled. "I still do not understand. You're just a program."
The robed Andorian master gave her a slight smile and with a twitch of an antennae, he and the holodeck program rezzed out. Maybe it was a preprogrammed completion for the gauntlet. She shrugged it off as she fluidly twirled the ushaan-tor and chaka in both hands. Her practice with them made her feel confident she could carry herself in a fight. But if they were in dire straits, she wanted a backup cache of weapons on the Resurrection ready to beam down to her in case she needed them.
Within 10 minutes, she had assembled the duffel bag of non-Starfleet energy and melee weapons, enough for both her and Sh'avelith. She changed out of her sweaty clothes and headed out to look for Railius for a status on their plan for the 'admiral's' arrival.
She would also later ask Sh'avelith about the 'name' the elder gave her. Maybe she would use it. It was better than the one she came up with.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.17
With the help of a slew of PADDs, Cody and Reepchip continued to work out how to get the nanites to deactivate the explosive.  Reepchip nibbled on some jerky in thought, then suggested they go with what they knew and could possibly test--namely, have the nanites molecularly dismantle the zanturium.  They also worked out a way to get the nanites onto the darts so they could be delivered.  When Chief Carmichael asked what they were working on, Reepchip jumped to attention.
“Sir!  Working on a way to update the Resurrection, sir!  Determining if it’s better to use betamax tapes or eight track cassettes, sir!”
Junior Lieutenant Daven Corhees, who’d been asked about cogs earlier, called out, “I keep telling you to use punch cards, Ratman!  They’re more resistant to tachyon radiation!”  Everyone in earshot looked at each other.  There HAD to be a joke that only the two were in on.
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.18
Cody laughed, even though he didn’t fully get the joke, but Chief Carmichael’s puzzled face, was kind of priceless.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.18
Reepchip nodded.  “Hm.  Point.”  Another engineer looked out from where he was working.  “Piano rolls.  They hold more information and have continuous feed,” he said.  And something seemed to click with Chief Carmichael, who looked at Reepchip.  “Of course.  You’re one of the Madcap Engineers from Starfleet Academy,” he said, realizing from the strange banter--and who was bantering--who Reepchip was.
“First-Level Shaman-Engineer and Ensign Reepchip, House of Chara, Clan of Tet, at your service,” Reepchip said quite formally, saluting then leaning his head back--those that knew Carnora would know he was respectfully baring his throat to the Chief Engineer.
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection, Engineering
Stardate 1903.19
Cody decided to get back to work. They've almost finished work on the darts. He had a lot of work to do besides that, as he had to reconfigure the main deflector array to function as a booster relay for the upcoming mission.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.18
Reepchip went to work alongside him, explaining to Chief Carmichael what they were actually doing--and the bizarre conversation between he and his fellow Madcaps was a diversion they’d used in Starfleet Academy to keep people from finding out what they were up to.  “The nice thing about blow darts,” he said, “is if someone’s looking for an energy signature from weapons fire--there is none.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Ressurrection
Stardate 1903.19
Daryl checked his outfit once more. He did feel a little nervous. Now that the mission was soon to begin, he realized more and more that it could get really ugly on Andoria. The gear he had with him would protect him to some extent. But still. He checked the time. Within the hour, the Resurrection would rendezvous with the USS Centaurus, a diplomatic vessel, which would bring them to Andoria with a delay of a few days.
Ryramorl rumbled as he checked himself over and looked over at Daryl.  “Let me guess--you’re downwind of Horghenhar, too, and praying the wind doesn’t shift.”
Daryl looked at the towering Carnora. He still had to get used to the Carnora's sayings, as he wasn’t accustomed to their culture and habits. “I don’t exactly know what you mean with that saying, but if it means something like ‘feeling like a sitting duck’ , yeah, absolutely,” he replied.
Ryramorl considered how to explain it.  “If you are downwind of the Horghenhar, it means they cannot smell you, and do not know you are there.  If the wind shifts, it is possible that they will smell you, and will thus attack.  We Olvern speak of the Horghenhar… the way humans speak of bears.”
“I see” Daryl nodded. “That is indeed kind of how I feel. It’s not that I am afraid, but a lot of scenario’s are going through my head of what could possibly happen once we beam down.
Let’s go to the War Room. Since we’re almost at the rendezvous point I suppose we have a briefing with a status update on the plan before we are beamed over to the Centaurus.”
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.19
The Resurrection dropped out of warp as Jahkar walked into the War Room. Commander Vree and Ensign Sh'avelith had just arrived and Raillius and the others were coming down the corridor behind the half-Romulan/Klingon.
“We’ve arrived at the rendezvous with USS Centaurus,” Jahkar said. “Captain Lazarus said we’ll be in transporter range in 15 minutes.”
He looked back as Commander Raillius entered next and he waited for her to present their plan…
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.19
After everyone was seated, Commander Vree asked Commander Raillius for her security plan to cover Lieutenant (Admiral) Thompson and Lieutenant Ra’yral. T’Aayla started by displaying a schematic of the Capital City.   
“I am proceeding on the following points. First, we need to treat this as much like a regular visit as possible; anything else would smell like a trap to any potential terrorists. Second, that the diplomatic and security apparatus that we are coordinating the visit with will be compromised.  It is likely that the terrorists have inside people. Three, that we will err on the side of keeping both Thompson and Ra’yral alive rather than presenting an easy opportunity.   Four, that any attack is likely in this order- bombing, assassination, and lastly kidnapping.  She paused before continuing.
“We’ve contacted the Andorian government and arranged a diplomatic visit by a Starfleet Admiral who is nominally in the office of public relations, with the intent of demonstrating Federation solidarity with the Andorian Government in their fight against terror. Per security protocol, our personnel will beam down directly into a secure area within the Andorian government ministry. Because of the recent events, security will be tight. The Admiral will remain within the government compound under heavy guard with the exception of one public event that will involve placing a Peace wreath on a site at the main University Campus where twelve civilians were killed in a bomb attack. Aside from an inside job attempt within the Ministry, this will narrow the terrorist’s window to the Peace wreath ceremony.  He and his detail will beam to the site of the ceremony.
The ceremony will be scripted as most of these events are.  There will be two sections, one to either side that will be fenced off for spectators and per any democratic government, protestors will be allowed in one area, while supporters will be kept in the other, in order to prevent conflict.  The Admiral will place the peace wreath at the statue of the University’s founder, ChaZ  Sh’bonorizth, which is the closest landmark to the actual bombing. There are still a significant number of flowers, stuffed animals, and other paraphernalia at the base of the statue. He will be escorted by the Vice Chancellor of the University, a Ms. Tilli Vintish. A short speech will follow. She eyed Lieutenant Thompson with a slightly raised eyebrow indicating his requirement to potentially engage in public speaking.
Andorian Campus security will provide management of any protestors, and/or counter-protestors. Andorian Capital police will provide traffic management and back up the campus police. Andorian diplomatic corp security will provide close cover for the Admiral and will sweep the area for explosives and other harmful devices.  I will provide undercover support in the Supporter section.  Because Andoria attracts students from throughout the Federation to this University, a Vulcan won’t look out of place and it will give me cover to be a simple observer of illogical emotional behavior.   
“Starfleet diplomatic protection will also sweep the area and will provide close cover support and mobile force fields and shields, transport inhibitors, scattering fields, and the usual high security counter-measures.   Federation marines from the embassy will provide overwatch support on adjoining buildings as will Andorian security forces.  Colonel Jahkar will command overwatch through a secure communications network with rotating frequency bands that oscillate every .2 seconds. The marines will be watching the Andorian security forces as much as the event area.  
Commander Vree and Lieutenant Sh’avelith will have an opportunity to be onsite at either fenced off area, or outside the security boundary which is approximately fifty meters. Agitating the crowd to get rowdy and protest may draw the terrorist’s attention, and if anything does happen you will have an opportunity to intervene on behalf of the terrorists.  The other security forces do not know of your existence so they may attack you.  Colonel Jahkar can direct the marines to provide you cover fire if absolutely necessary to save your life and they will be equipped with non-lethal rounds to do so.  The marines will respond to Colonel Jahkar’s direction as opposed to autonomous fire so there will be a slight delay in response, please act accordingly. Colonel Jahkar and I will engage if an event takes place and will attempt to safeguard Thompson and Ra’yral as a priority, and if possible, provide you with an opportunity to endear yourself with the terrorists. Both Colonel Jahkar and I have both reviewed Trill and Andorian anatomy. She allowed a typical Romulan smile that was as equally reassuring as disturbing. Questions? Suggestions?
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection, War Room
Stardate 1903.20
Daryl sat right up once Commander Raillius finished her briefing. “You say there are security sweeps for explosives. What if they do attempt a suicide attack with a larger zanturium device. From what I understood from Lt. Beckett is that a device twice the size of the original suicide devices can cause severe damage to bystanders in a radius of about 5 meters. The zanturium is not detectable, and, with all due respect for Reepchip and Beckett with their darts, they just can’t put a dart in each and every Andorian…”
[Back to top]
== S1, E2, Act 11: Special Delivery ==
Commander T'Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.20
T’Aayla eyed Thompson cooly, “There is no perfect protective detail. An enemy willing to sacrifice their life for yours is extremely hard to stop." Her hand inadvertently moved to her own chest area before lowering to its normal position. “Believe me, I know. No one said this mission was without risks. However, known transmittal frequencies will be blocked, so it is likely that a device would have to be delivered physically, either on a suicide bomber, or by a mechanically powered drone immune to jamming or electronic interference. The only people you’ll have around you will be security people, who have passed a level 4 security screen, but there’s no guarantee that one isn’t deep undercover. That’s a risk. Everyone else will be at least 20 meters away which will give security time to drop them before they get too close. The scattering field will prevent transporters from beaming in explosives. However, a terrorist could use an old-fashioned weapon such as a mortar offsite to blanket the area with HE or phosphorous or any number of nasty explosives. The portable shields can help if they’re deployed in time… if. Personally, I’d make sure my will was in order before we go on planet.   We’ll do our best to keep you safe, but there are never guarantees.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.20
Daryl listened carefully to Raillius, taking every word she said into account. For a moment he was thinking what the hell he got himself into. Why did he agree to get back to active field duty in what used to be the elite of the elite. And why the hell did volunteer to be 'the bait’?
Daryl knew the answer. Even after all the years that had passed, all the agony he had been through, all the pain he suffered, he still needed the thrill, the excitement.
Yet, this was a dangerous mission, with lots of factors involved that could lead to a certain death. But still, there he was. Against the odds. And he would survive this too.  
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.20
Mayla listened to the plan carefully, watching each member of the team. Railius had the plan meticulously laid out along with contingencies short of the Resurrection blasting its way to the underground city itself to save them if serious trouble were to arise.
Thompson's apprehension was credible. He hadn't been in the field in a long time and now he will be the center of attention of a possible terrorist attack. Maybe he really wasn't yet ready until he'd gone through a few more sims to bring his skills and abilities back up to standards. If they only had more time.
"Have Preet coordinate with Embassy security for our sky-eye nanoprobes to be in the area," Mayla said. "They can be used as a video recorder for the event and double as low-level security. A level 1 phaser isn't much, but it's enough to distract anyone who wouldn't be suspecting a camera to fire on them. The transmissions will also be relayed to the Resurrection for analysis."
Jahkar nodded. "She'll be with me at Overwatch and can provide constant aerial surveillance of the area."
Railius also gave her a slight nod. "We can use them to identify and record everyone present in the crowd without them knowing it."
Mayla agreed. "That will give us a valuable intelligence package to use if Sh'avelith and I are embedded afterwards." She could still see Thompson's slight nervousness as he tried to contain it. "If the ARF doesn't take the bait and attack, Sh'avelith and I will take action if an opportunity arises. We will rile up the crowd and cause a riot. At first chance I get, I will attempt to assassinate the 'admiral' in the chaos."
Thompson held up a hand. "Wait a minute, Commander. Are you going to succeed?" He couldn't read her blue face as she didn't look anything like herself at the moment.
"I have to make it look convincing," Mayla said with a straight face. "But I will try my best not to succeed."
Thompson only gave her a nod, not sure if her answer was reassuring enough for him. "Don't get yourself killed in the attempt."
She gave him a nod of appreciation and a slight smile. "After the event, the admiral and his entourage will continue as scheduled and leave the planet. The rest of the team will also withdraw from the planet to prevent any suspicion that a covert team is here.
“Move Overwatch to the ship and monitor our progress from there. Set up a safehouse for us to retreat to in case we or our apartment is compromised. If the ARF makes contact with us, we need you ready to deploy if and when we reach our goal." Mayla gestured to the map Railius had up.
"In the case our communications are being monitored, we'll use code names to signify that we've reached specific milestones.
'Alderaan' for when we have been contacted by the ARF.
"'Bespin' if we have identified their location.
"'Corelia"  if we have identified their leader.
"'Dagobah' to prep for deployment.
"'Endor' to deploy to our location or to given coordinates.
"'Mandalore' for immediate back up needed.
"'Yavin' for immediate extraction.
"'Bullseye' will be the location of the apartment Sh'avelith and I have rented. All locations relayed over comms are to be relative to Bullseye.
"Reepchip will shadow us the best he can and we'll keep in constant comms with him." Mayla gave the murian a nod, who gave her a small salute of acknowledgement.
Mayla continued. "Make certain all of your subvocals are calibrated with our encryption and frequencies. The Resurrection will be designated as 'Havoc'. As soon as we leave the ship, no names will be used over comms. Any other questions or comments?"
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.22
“Commander, might I suggest that locations relayed over comms be relative to a random point in the city that is changed every day rather than bullseye.   If we communicate our positions relative to bullseye and someone cracks our communication security protocols, they’d be able to pinpoint bullseye with no more than three intercepted communications. Also, I think we should rephase our frequencies modulators right before we begin the mission. While our subvocals are encrypted, an astute adversary might have a way of cracking them, and there is no telling if the people behind all of these events have contacts within Starfleet.  Our equipment was manufactured in a Federation facility, transported by Federation vessels, distributed by Federation personnel, and maintained by Federation personnel up to the time we received them.   They could be compromised.” She stopped and observed the faces looking at her.  “I know, I sound paranoid, or perhaps like I’ve been hanging around the Tal’Shiar too long, but I’ve been taught never to underestimate your enemy.”
She continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing several post incident plans, involving casualties to our group. In the advent that Lieutenants Thompson or Ra’yral are injured, but the Commander’s cover is not blown, I’ve identified the best medical facilities on Andoria both within a physical transportation range and transporter range.  Standard protocol would be for an advance security team to have done this for a dignitary so this isn’t out of the norm, and it will insure the best medical treatment for our personnel.   Beaming them straight to the ship would break diplomatic protocol and would compromise the Commander’s cover.  
In the event that everyone is compromised, I’ve requested that Captain Lazarus make sure that we have sickbay prepped and manned for a full casualty event, including all reserve and cross trained medical personnel, and brining a second EMH online utilizing reserve computing power and extra holo-emitters I’ve requested be installed.   
In the event of mass civilian casualties, a system is ready to be implemented for extraction and minimization of loss of civilian life.  Again, this is standard protocol for an advance team.   All standard security protocols and communications with Andoria have been followed to the letter for a visiting Starfleet Admiral so as not to arouse suspicion.  The lack of such preparations would be seen as suspicious.   I’d request every member on the team review these preparations as I, or any of us, may be incapacitated and the next in the chain of command will need to assume direction immediately.  Additionally, I’d like to remind everyone that you are NOT special forces, you are standard Starfleet security personnel, or whoever your assigned roles, so… dial it back to that level or you’ll get made.  That’s all.  Commander…
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.23
Daryl raised his hand once more.
“I assume the USS Centaurus can be of help here. When the situation arises, they have to follow diplomatic protocol as well. It's a refitted Sovereign and can handle way more people than the Resurrection can. Also, the Resurrection's role will not be compromised, since she won’t have to decloak for people to beam over.”
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.23
Ryramorl grinned.  “I appreciate your choice of code words,” he rumbled.
Reepchip cocked his head.  “I am unfamiliar with the phrase ‘get made’” he admitted.  He then thought of something else.  “My people have an alarm call as well, which is still used by instinct if we see impending danger.  If I see dangerous about to happen, I will likely make that sound, I can’t help it, so I will say it now so you know what it is.”  He then made a very fast, high-pitched yipping, squeaking sound.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.23
T’Aayla grimaced, finding Reepchip’s noise particularly annoying to her Romulan ears.   “Part of me now hopes that the ARC doesn’t take the bait... just so I don’t have to hear that sound again.”
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.23
Jahkar scowled as Reepchip emitted the noise. He shook his head and held his hand over his left ear. The sound had been piercing.
The Romulan/Klingon returned his attention to the briefing and nodded in agreement with Commander Raillius.
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.23
Ryramorl gave Raillius a sympathetic look; it was clearly not a pleasant experience for him either.  A thought entered his mind as well--how would a Muran’s accursed defensive shriek affect Romulans?  He’d known Olverns who’d suffered hearing damage from it.
USS Resurrection
Approaching rendezvous with USS Centaurus
Stardate 1903.26
With everyone clear on their orders, the mission briefing wrapped. No sooner had the briefing come to an end than Captain Lazarus’ voice interrupted everyone.
“We’re approaching the USS Centaurus. They are ready to receive the admiral,” said Lazarus. “Ready to transport in ten minutes.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.26
Daryl broke loose from Darva's hug, and gently kissed her one last time. “See you soon” he whispered as he stepped into the small transporter room and onto the transporter padd.
He looked at Rayral, who briefly nodded. Daryl nodded back. “Energize!” Daryl said. The transporter engineer activated the transporter and the next moment they materialized onboard the USS Centaurus.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1903.27
Tiri left the briefing and decided to check on intelligence reports coming from Andoria. She went to the Situation Room and parked herself at the communications suite, where she accessed all incoming data from Andoria – official intelligence reports (suitable for her security clearance), data feeds from various news outlets and any live coverage of events on the planet.
Within a few minutes, the Andorian woman had a good look at the current situation on her homeworld. She collected all that data onto a padd and set off to find Commander Vree.  Locating her, she approached with the padd in hand.
“Commander,” Tiri said, handing Vree the data padd. “The latest intel from Andoria.”
After handing it over, the ensign proceeded to offer a summary: “There was minor unrest overnight. A few smaller scale riots, no major injuries and no deaths. Several arrests throughout the capital. The latest propaganda from the ARF is focused on Starfleet using Andoria for weapons research. The ARF claims there are Federation research labs on the planet and that they pose a risk to the Andorian people.
“The Andorian government is preparing for the visit of a Starfleet admiral. He is expected to arrive sometime today,” Tiri smiled. “Sounds like they are going to give him a warm welcome.”
She clasp her hands behind her back, “That’s all that I was able to discern from intelligence reports and media feeds.”
USS Centaurus
Near Andorian space
Stardate 1903.27
Once Thompson was aboard the Centaurus, he found himself in the transporter room, greeted by the ship’s captain.
A Vulcan woman stepped forward, her hand extended, “I am Captain Selvan of the USS Centaurus. Welcome aboard, admiral.”
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== S1, E2, Act 12: Falling Into Place ==
Commander Mayla Vree and Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1904.05
Thompson's team transferred over to the Centaurus without incident and the Resurrection was on its way again. Mayla spent whatever time she had to continue her studies into the Andorian socio-environment and its history. She had already committed to memory their cover story, and set up a procedure if either of their identities were compromised. Especially herself. She was taking a big chance going in as an Andorian. After further planning with Sh'avelith they decided they would go
There was a chime at her door.
"Come," Mayla responded, already knowing who it was.
Sh'avelith stepped in. "You called?"
"Yes, please come in and take a seat. I've been going over our plan and it might be better if we aren't seen together in case one of us is compromised. I'm more concerned with me doing something that makes me stand out."
Tiri entered and took a seat on the modest only single other chair in the Commander's quarters. She listened to Mayla and slowly nodded. As much as she did not want to be alone, she knew what the commander said made sense.
“Commander,” said Tiri. “I know you’ll do just fine. We’ve been over the sims numerous times. You pass as Andorian, at least from my perspective you have. But tell me, what do you think we should do on the surface?”
"In order for the ARF to take our 'commitment' to the cause seriously, destroying the communications center might gain us some credibility. I've studied the building, and security has increased in recent weeks. I've watched the patrols and the surveillance video cameras and there is a blind spot at this point south of the east relay mount." Mayla zoomed in on the image and pointed to the hovering three -dimensional scale reproduction of the facility. "An explosive device hidden here with a large enough yield would take out the relay and bring down that wing of the building."
Sh'avelith studied image and rotated around. "How many people are in that wing?"
"The wing is the analysis department that works on sorting through the messages received. It is staved with only four personnel overnight."
Sha'velith nodded slowly but came up with an addendum to the plan. "I think destroying any part of the building with less people in it is a good idea. If most of the building is empty, I suggest we take out as much of the facility as we can."
Mayla nodded emphatically. "I agree. And we should try to minimize the casualties as much as we can."
"How do you suggest we plant the explosives?"
Mayla smiled. "We're going to cheat."
"Cheat?" The Andorian asked, her antennae wavering a bit.
"We're going to have the Resurrection beam the explosives to the location, and we'll detonate manually."
"I'm sure the building has transport inhibitors installed throughout the building to prevent such a thing."
"Right, but look right here," Mayla zoomed into the east wing of the building and pointed to an obscure object in the rear of a room with a single console. "What do you see here?"
"That appears to be a transporter pad?" Sh'avelith said incredulously.
"A mobile field transporter pad," Mayla corrected. "Three months ago Lieutenant Commander Shia Kensington requested for it to be used in an emergency to beam out Starfleet personnel in case the building was overtaken or seized by terrorists. Unbeknownst to everyone else, this particular communications relay is one of three primary hubs in the city to relay and disseminate incoming messages from off-world."
"So we hack into that pad, and beam in the explosives," Sh'avelith said.
"That's correct. I've already hacked it and received a status of the system. According to the logs, it's been on standby mode ever since its installation." Mayla zoomed the image out and indicated where they will be at. "We need to be present some place before and after detonation so we can be placed at the scene."
Sh'avelith studied the adjoining streets. "Because of that building, most of the vendors surrounding it cater to Starfleet and Federation personnel."  She looked at the five-story building that could house several hundred workers. "How big of an explosive yield do we need to take out that relay?"
"We're going to need enough to vaporize 15 meters in order to cause that side of the building to collapse along with the relay systems. The system will be offline for at least a few weeks."
She sighed, she really didn’t like the idea of bombing a Federation building. If someone got hurt, they would be in real trouble. Just destroying a section of the building might be looked at as questionable, even if the ends justify the means.
Slowly Tiri nodded, “Are we going to use our own explosives? Or do we use something more like what the ARF is using? Something acquired from black market sources?”
Mayla nodded. "We'll use the explosives we packed with us. As we are not really acting on behalf of the ARF, we could use any type of explosives we want. The easiest ones to get on the black market in the Federation are old surplus Dominion and Cardassian types, left over from the FedDom War. Those can be found nearly anywhere in the quadrant."
Tiri gave a nod, “Very well. I’ll secure what we need from the armory. Anything else, commander?”
Mayla leaned back in her chair and stared at the schematic of the building. "Let's hope everything goes according to plan." But she knew better than that. In her hundreds of years of memories, the best laid plans rarely go according to plan.
Lt. Daryl Thompson/Admiral Daren Bridwell
USS Centaurus
Stardate 1904.05
The bluish swirl of the transporter beam disappeared, and Daryl looked around for a moment. There was a small delegation waiting for them. Daryl stepped off the transporter padd, followed by Ryramorl, who kept a close distance.
A Vulcan woman with the rank of Captain stepped forward, her hand extended, “I am Captain Selvan of the USS Centaurus. Welcome aboard, admiral.”
Daryl nodded and shook hands with the Captain. “Thank you Captain Selvan. I'm glad you could help us out on such short notice and bring us to Andoria. “ Daryl said, and smiled the smile of a politician.
Selvan nodded. “By all means,“ she replied.
“That said,” Daryl continued “May I introduce my adjunct, Rygaran D’hronarin? I wouldn’t know where I would be without him” Ryramorl slightly nodded and bared his teeth in what appeared to be a smile.”
The Captain nodded politely towards Ryramorl, then she gestured to the Bolian man standing beside her. “This is my First Officer, Commander Traken Vesadin. “
The Bolian, a harsh looking man, extended his hand as well, and Daryl shook it as the Bolian welcomed him aboard. Selvan continued:” He will bring you to your suites,as I am needed elsewhere. I hope you will enjoy your stay on the Centaurus.”
“Thank you, Captain,“ Daryl replied.
The Bolian gestured to the entrance of the transporter room. “Please follow me, Admiral.”
“Certainly,” Daryl said, as he quickly hand-gestured to Ryramorl to keep an eye open. During the five minute walk, Daryl asked questions about the ship, every now and then addressing Ryramorl. Ryramorl would answer in his native language, translated by the universal translator. As they arrived at the luxurious quarters, the Bolian turned towards Daryl and stiffly smiled.
“We arrive at Andoria within 2 hours. In the meantime, if there is anything you need, let me know” the Bolian stated.
Daryl nodded “Thank You, Commander,” Daryl said. Then he turned around and entered the room. “Computer, setup a dampening field around the suites, confirmation code Bridwell, Zeta, Zeta, One one ,six,” the computer chirped and acknowledged. Then Daryl relaxed as he looked at Ryramorl. “Now we wait.”
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral/Adjunct Rygaran D’hronarin
USS Centaurus
Stardate 1904.05
Ryramorl respectively stayed behind “Admiral Daren Bridwell” and remained silent.  He had practiced the proper bearing of an adjunct, though those who were very well versed in reading body language would see the way he looked around, was never far from the admiral, and kept his hand near his phaser in a way that suggested long duty as a bodyguard.  Deep down, he knew this could go sideways--all it took was one person to recognize who he really was, and things could get awkward.
He said little, letting “Daren” do most of the talking but when Ryramorl himself spoke there was a subtle difference--and Daryl would soon realize why:  Ryramorl wasn’t speaking English, but instead relying on the Universal Translator, hiding the fact that he himself could speak the language--another facet of his disguise.
As the two settled into their quarters, Ryramorl rumbled.  [Now we wait indeed,] he said in his own language, keeping up the fiction that “Rygaran” did not speak Federation Standard.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1904.05
Reepchip and Cody looked at the tiny darts the two had prepared before Reepchip put them in his pouch.  “Here’s hoping I can ‘pick the pockets’ before we need to make the bet,” he said, referring to the comment that he made earlier.  
“Now I have to join Mayla and Tiri.”  He took a deep breath.  “Wish us luck,” he said.  He bowed to Cody, then shook hands before heading off to rejoin Mayla and Tiri, ready to play his part in this scheme.  As he awaited their departure, he asked Tiri about Andorian architecture and how hard it was to climb.
Somewhere in the the Andorian Capital
Stardate 1904.05
Seraphim entered the holographic communications chamber located deep inside the ARF compound on Andoria Prime. The dimly lit room hummed to life as the Andorian stepped onto the holographic transmitter pad and stood there a moment before a figure appeared on the receiving platform before him.
“Archangel,” Seraphim said. “You received my query regarding news of the visiting Starfleet admiral? Do you have orders for us?”
“Indeed,” the man called Archangel said. He was nothing more than a shadowy figure there before Seraphim, his features purposely shrouded in darkness. “I ran your ‘admiral’ through my Starfleet contacts and it turns out Admiral Daren Bridwell is an officer assigned to Starfleet Public Relations.
“The visit is supposed to be a demonstration of Federation solidarity with the Andorian people during this time of crisis. Bridwell, however, is not who he claims to be.”
The dark figure waved his hand and a small holographic readout appeared floating beside him. In the holographic window was displayed a readout with data and the profile on Admiral Bridwell.
“Bridwell is a real admiral, assigned to PR. But this image is of a different Starfleet officer,” said Archangel. The file transformed into the file of a Lt. Daryl Thompson, with the associated image transforming into the same man, only dressed in a regular Starfleet uniform, sans the admiralty decorum.  
Seraphim frowned, “An undercover operative, formerly with Shadow Operations,” he read the file further. “Currently assigned to Starfleet Intelligence under Admiral Ian MacLeod.”
The Andorian frowned deeper, “I thought Shadow Operations was gone?”
“It was,” Archangel said. “Intelligence suggests the Shadow Ops has been reactivated. One unit assigned to investigate the turmoil across the Alpha Quadrant.”
“You said with Section 31 and Shadow Ops out of the way, there would be no threat. No investigation that we couldn’t handle,” Seraphim said, his teeth clenched. “This is most unexpected, Archangel.”
The dark figure shook his head, “A minor setback. It can still be handled. Shadow Ops’ reactivation is limited.  And my sources can keep tabs on what they do, just as we’ve learned of the Bridwell impersonation.”
Seraphim sighed, “You are right, of course. So we should kill him as soon as possible? Or avoid him all together?”
“I have a plan,” said Archangel. “I will transmit details to you, fully encrypted. Bridwell arrives within the hour aboard USS Centaurus. Rely only on our people. These ARF fools will only botch the whole thing.”
“I’ll have to pull people off the primary target,” said Seraphim. “Bridwell was going to be our diversion.”
“We’ll need another diversion,” said Archangel. “I’m sure ARF can find something they want to attack or blow up. They seem to be good at that.”
Seraph nodded, “I will pull a team away from the primary target. I await your orders regarding Bridwell...or shall I say Lt. Daryl Thompson.”
Seraph took a second look at Daryl’s adjunct and his eyes narrowed.  “That creature with him looks familiar,” he said.
“He’s one of the Carnora who served Shadow Operations in the past.  His real name is Ryramorl Ra’yral, of the Carnora Royal Bodyguards.  It seems the Pentarchy is getting involved as well.”
Seraph’s mouth tightened.  “I was afraid of that.  One of the ARF members has an old grudge against him.”
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1904.05
The Klingon/Romulan Marine arrived in the transporter room dressed in Marine combat gear, with Shadow Ops Type XII Polyalloy Weave Body Armor over his torso. He had a Type II Phaser slug from his hip and he carried a Type 6 Overwatch Phaser Rifle in assault rifle configuration.
He had been in contact with the Marine unit at the embassy and they were awaiting his arrival. The ship would arrive at Andoria shortly and the team would be ready to deploy. He hoped they were in top form for this mission.
Jahkar attached his 'obmaq  -- a Klingon throwing axe to the hip opposite of his phaser and patted it once for reassurance. It had been some time since he’d used it on an opponent outside the holodeck.
Once he was in place and ready for transport, he waited for the ship to assume orbit above Andoria Prime.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1904.05
T’Aayla entered the transporter room seconds after Colonel Jahkar.  She nodded appreciatively at his buildout.   While Jahkar would command overwatch, she’d be in close, co-mingling with the students.   She wore her house Raillius ablative weave armor, which was similar to the Shadow Ops Type X11 polyalloy weave body armor, except that it had both superior resistance to energy weapons and was impervious to most bladed weapons.   She wore a simple Vulcan style outfit and cloak overtop the armor.   She had her tricorder, PADD, her Rihansuu dagger, and a Type II phaser on he belt underneath her Vulcan cloak.  In her student backpack she carried a bevy of stun, dampen, tazer and para grenades.  
She nodded to Jahkar as he acknowledged her, then answered his inquisitive eyes aimed a a large container that floated behind her on an anti-gravity sled.   “It’s a little package I’m beaming to a hotel room I rented with a fake ID and Orion credits.”
“Didn’t know you swung that way Marcus, pick up some new tastes on Romulus?”
“Ha, funny.  What I did pick up was to be prepared for anything on Romulus.  My mentor was a great strategist and planner.  He said the battle was determined in 90 percent of the cases before the battle even starts.   Never underestimate your enemy, and always be prepared.  
communications, ID and credits… a complete package if we need to operate independently, even for months.”
“Wow, typical Romulan paranoia Marcus.  You went in deep didn’t you.
“Typical Romulan preparedness.  And yes, you have no idea.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need it.”
“Agreed.”  
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1904.05
“Good luck, my friend” Cody said as he shook hands with the small Carnora. He was getting fond of Reepchip. “Take care out there”. Cody watched as Reepchip walked out, then he turned back to his work. There was still a lot to do. Now he had to see to rig the main deflector dish as a relay annex booster for the beaming in and out of people through the thick ice layers of Andoria. The computer was currently churning on 250 years of geographical and seismologic data, to create a model of the ice layer movements and see where the irregularities were and possible blind spots would appear. This was his field of work. During the years he worked for the family company, he had learned a lot about planetary geographical cycles and advanced calculations to predict seismologic activity and its impact on the planetary layers. As the computer was still running, Cody would perform the rest of the task on the bridge so he could react on any action or change. He grabbed his mug with coffee and his padd and headed for the bridge.
It was quiet on the bridge, Lazarus sat in his chair, and nodded shortly when he noticed Cody. The rest of the crew was doing it’s duty. Beckett sat down behind the secondary Operations console and started his work. He could only prepare so far, as he had to reconfigure most sensor arrays.  He couldn’t do it when in warp, as then they would practically fly blind. So he had to wait until they arrived at Andoria before he could perform his actions. While setting up the reconfiguration , he made sure to be able to hot-load the default configuration on the fly without offlining the sensor arrays, in case they had to warp out in an emergency. As he finished his work, he heard the helmsman say “15 minutes to reach Andoria, sir” Lazarus shortly grunted in acknowledgement. Cody exhaled silently. It was almost time.
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