Episode 2.1.4: Watching the Shadows

== S2, E1, Act 1: No Rest For The Wicked ==
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.17
Cody sat at a table in the small messhall, a few datapadd scattered on the table. He was holding one, where he was creating the report about the two weapons dealers. The AI routines had filtered out their latest whereabouts, as well a list of places where they mostly resided lately. He send the report to Vree and Lazarus. It was up to them what to do with it. 
Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.17
Lazarus received Beckett’s report and he read it over twice. The weapons dealers he had tracked down were known to spend most of their time on Orion and Risa. He noted the details and tapped his comm-badge to send a message, “Lazarus to Vree. My ready room in 10 minutes. I want to discuss Beckett’s report. Lazarus out.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.17
Daryl was in his quarters; he had partly written his detailed debriefing report for his time with the Legion. He read it, and edited several parts, several times. Every time, he missed several small details. Eventually, he sighed deeply and threw the datapadd aside.
His mind was too occupied with the debriefing. During the debriefing he had noticed the subvoc communication between Lazarus and Vree.
Vree's stance towards him and the fact he would be 'sitting it out' was enough for Daryl to know that they thought he was compromised, not to be trusted. The door chimed, breaking through his ponderings. "Come in" he said. The door opened and Darva stepped inside, holding two grease-soaked paper bags in her one hand, and two large paper cups with straws in her other. "Hey" she said, smiling. "Thought you could use one of these…" she waved slowly with the paper bags.
Daryl smiled back and got up from his bunk. He kissed Darva on the cheek, and offered her a chair in the tiny quarter, as he said back on his bunk, and pulled over a small table. Darva sat down and handed one of the bags to Daryl. He tore it open, and it revealed a large burger. The kind with three thick slices of meat, with baked onion rings, fresh lettuce, tomato, molten cheese, and a load of ketchup in between … all held together by two buns on top and below.
Daryl grinned. "Nosing through my replicator programs, haven't you?" He said, before taking a large bite out of the burger.
"As Chief of Security, I am obliged to perform random checks on all data on this ship. And this, Lieutenant, came up in the logs. So you'd better explain yourself, why you have these awesomely recipes hidden between your data."
She looked at him sharply. Daryl took another bite, laid down the burger on the paper bag, and raised his hands. "I plead not guilty" he replied with a mouthful, trying to look innocent. They both burst out in childish laughter.
Then, Daryl replied "Thanks Darva. You always know how to cheer me up." She just smiled back. "My pleasure" she said. For a few moments, they were in silence, and Daryl's thoughts dwelled back to his time with the Legion. The words of Archangel sounded in his head. How his place was not within Starfleet. How they had left him to his own devices after his abduction, persuading words from Archangel... And apparently, he was right. Raillius didn't trust her. Vree was having her doubts.  "A penny for your thoughts" Darva's voice broke through his thoughts. Daryl looked at her. 
A faint smile came and disappeared as quickly. "What is the matter?" Darva asked, now in a more serious tone. Daryl hesitated, then shook his head. "It's nothing" he said. "I probably should have my emochip checked. It might've been disrupted a little by the nanites" 
Darva took Daryl's hand. "Something's on your mind. Please tell me".
Daryl sighed. "I think the team doesn't trust me anymore. I think it's partly because of what my clone did. And partly because they think I have been compromised…that's why Vree said to ride this one out. She doesn’t trust me anymore.”
A silence fell. “Why don’t you talk to her?” Darva proposed “Tell her your side of the story. “
Daryl shook his head. “She’s a Vree. Once she has made up her mind, it isn’t changed easily.“  
“It never hurts to try,” Darva answered. 
The Madcap Engineers
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.18
The trace on the specialized parts had hit a surprising snag--while the group had initially been right in some of the equipment being special-order only, these special orders were common enough that a warehouse like the one on Utopia Planitia was likely to have at least a few at any given time. 
Still, the group checked on the rarer parts, compiling a list of who ordered it. The list was dauntingly long, and Spargan was unsure of the logic of prying into each company that would order such equipment.  “It’s all I can think of right now,” said Daven.
“We should concentrate on those who ordered them all,” suggested Grollan. Unfortunately, that tactic resulted in no names whatsoever.  The Madcap engineers looked at each other, then decided to start with who ordered the most of what was stolen.
What they found was astonishing. The rarer components of what the Phoenix team had recovered during the mission had all been ordered, essentially, by ghosts. The orders were added onto large requisitions being sent to the shipyards. When the Madcaps would trace down who added to these large orders, they would run into a dead-end. In almost every case, the person who had added onto these orders turned out to be someone who was either retired, dead or in some case, they were fictional people. Whoever had added to the requisitions had done a flawless job of covering themselves – there was no paper or electronic trail.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius & Colonel Jahkar 
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.18
As T’Aayla and Jahkar walked down the corridors of the Resurrection in silence toward a small conference room she had selected for the pre-interrogation meeting with the Colonel, her mind was flooded with memories of her 10-year experience in the Romulan Empire.  It had started with her capture and a full year of torture, but then she had been “rescued” from that daily torment by a very wily and experienced Romulan Senator, who had also been a master strategist and fleet commander for over 100 years.  
Senator Raillius had removed her from the torture chambers on Remus, and she’d eventually been adopted into his family and had risen to be his personal pilot and one of his most trusted confidants.   In many respects, she had become a surrogate for his only daughter who had been killed by another Romulan house using Klingon surrogates.   He had many sons, but only one daughter. 
T’Aayla had become that daughter in all respects. Jamie T. Marcus had become T’Aayla Raillius.   Commander Vree may think that Thompson had cause for betraying the Federation, but if she hadn’t betrayed it, she certainly had turned her back on it.  
It wasn’t without cause; she had been betrayed and abandoned by the Federation in much the same way that many members of the Legion seemed to have in their personal histories. She didn’t know how much Admiral MacLeod had disclosed to Commander Vree, or other members of the crew about her history, but if he had, it was very likely she wouldn’t have been accepted as part of this team.  If anyone had cause to join the Legion on this crew… it was her.
“The key to Zh’riakrer is her past,” T’Aayla began as soon as they were seated.   “We won’t be able to get anything out of her until we move her from that past… or allow her to embrace that past.  As a trained Starfleet intelligence operative, who has quite possibly had additional hardening techniques added in by the Legion, we won’t be able to beat a confession out of her.” It certainly didn’t work on me, she thought.   “It might take a while, but we need to get in her head, and find a way for her to come back from where she’s gone.”
“I’m not quite sure I follow,” Jahkar replied, not used to this version of Jamie T. Marcus, who had been a brash and active Starfleet officer when he had previously served with her.
“We all have an innate desire to believe in something.  Zh’riakrer had believed deeply in the Federation in the past.  That was taken from her, now she needs to believe in something else, and that something that stepped up for her was the Legion.  We need to get her back to believing in the Federation, or some other path than the Legion.”    
“That won’t be easy.”  
“No...it won’t.  It may take time, but it has a better chance of success than brutality.”  It worked on me.   “An in the meantime, we put into place a range of other options.”
“Such as Lieutenant Thompson escaping with her?”   
“Exactly.  Or some variation on that theme.  In reality or within an enhanced simulation.”  
“She may be prepared for that.” 
“Of course, that’s why I plan the psychological approach first.” 
“As long as it avoids me having to beat her face to a pulp, I’m in.”  
T’Aayla smiled.   “I hope we can avoid that.  Ready.”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Commander T’Aayla Raillius, Colonel Jahkar and Reepchip 
USS Resurrection Holodeck
Stardate 1910.18
She’d programmed a bare and stark room for the interrogation, consisting of a transparent table, with an empty chair on one side and two on the other. On the wall behind the two chairs a large obvious one-way mirror looked out on where the prisoner was to sit. All the design was standard Starfleet, with the room consisting of different shades of gray.  
A single overhead light illuminated the room. It was obviously a cheap holodeck projection. Reepchip was placed behind the one-way mirror and T’Aayla and Jahkar stood in one corner.   
Zh’riakrer was beamed into the room directly from the brig. Upon materialization, she quickly looked around. “So… it begins,” she snorted in disdain. T’Aayla and Jahkar were silent, but Jahkar moved around the edge of the room to stand directly behind the prisoner. Zh’riakrer stared at T’Aayla, “Don’t even try, the Federation has rules, even Shadow Ops has rules, and if they didn’t you still won’t get anything out of me.”   
T’Aayla kept her face entirely expressionless but moved to sit down across from Zh’riakrer. “Our Captain has tasked me with your interrogation, and since you are termed deceased, and there will be no repercussions on whether you live or die, has given me full discretion to use any means necessary to elicit the information we need from you.” She delivered it matter-of-factly and without emotion.  
“A Vulcan interrogator?” she paused, “No, I think not. “Vulcans don’t make good interrogators, more like a poker faced Romulan.”   
“Perhaps, or possibly a Sybokian Vulcan who is not constrained by using powerful Vulcan mind-rape techniques on defenseless prisoners.”   
Zh’riakrer eyed her intently, unsure of the veracity of her statement, but T’Aayla did catch a slight momentary glint of fear at the possibility of a Vulcan follower of Sybok wantonly prowling through her mind.  After several seconds, she dropped her impassive face and allowed a slight smile, “We prefer our own term of Rihansuu, as opposed to the crude bastardization of Romulan that the Federation uses.” T’Aayla raised an eyebrow. “On the other hand, I’m not sure you’d find a Tal’shiar interrogation that much more enjoyable.”
“No, no I’d expect not, but the result would be the same.”   
“I expect you’re right,” T’Aayla responded, “and I’d expect nothing less from you Sera.”  
“Hummmph.  Faux respect to form an interrogator-interrogatee bond…”
“It’s not fake.” T’Aayla responded, “although you have no way of knowing that of course, but you’re a professional, and I’m a professional and we all have our jobs and roles to play… don’t we?”
“I suppose so.  But you won’t be successful in your role.” 
“You’re probably right.  Maybe you have something of interest that we need, perhaps not.  In the end it probably doesn’t matter all that much, your new family no doubt knows of your capture and has probably changed every access code, moved every cell location, shifted every cell member that you are aware of and taken all logical precautions to minimize the impact of your capture. It will be like… you were never even part of that organization. So, to answer you, no, I don’t expect you’ll talk, and even if you did I doubt it would be useful, but here we are.”  She opened her hands and shrugged.
“Yeah, here we are… so you gonna have the bad cop thug behind me start by slapping me around a bit?”
“No.  I’d rather ask you some questions.  Not about the Legion, but about how you… dealt with your betrayal by the Federation.”
Zh’riakrer’s eyes narrowed, she noted the use of the affirmative statement of “betrayal by the Federation” instead of “her betrayal of the Federation” and she initially chalked it up to a tactic of trying to make a connection with her, but her instincts also informed her that the way her interrogator had said it was with true feeling and conviction. She was either a great actor, or… there was something more than met the eye.  That interested her.    
‘Why would that interest you?”  
T’Aayla was silent for a moment. “When we’re young and wide-eyed, we sign up for the service thinking we know the risks, thinking we’re immortal. We are told that if we’re captured, we’ll be disavowed. We think we can be okay with that.  In our macho moments we think that will never happen to us, and if it does, that we’ll go out in a blaze of glory.” She allowed her emotions to show, “But it doesn’t work that way does it?  It’s different when it happens, when it’s you, when you’re cast off by the very people and principles you’ve sworn to protect.”    
Again Zh’riakrer’s initial reaction was one of suspicion, of her interrogator using a classical “get on your side” interrogation tactic, but something else told her there was something behind the words. Again, either she knew what she was talking about or she was a dangerously good actor and interrogator. Either way, she wouldn’t divulge anything. “And…” Zh’riakrer added, not wanting to commit to any conversation yet.
“And... some people come back and held fast to their original principles despite the betrayal, while others… have a … hard time moving on. Some even adopt an entirely new personality.” She paused, allowing the silence to pervade the room.    
“Sera, as long as I am in charge of your interrogation, I’m not going to do anything physical to you, I know...from personal experience, that it won’t work. I also don’t have any hope of tricking you through some great subterfuge into divulging something by accident.One, the holodeck on this surplus ship isn’t that good, Starfleet has Shadow ops on a shoestring budget, and two, you wouldn’t fall for it. And, like I said before, even if you did say something, the Legion will have changed everything by now.  
However,” she added leaning in and eyeing Zh’riakrer intently, almost expectantly, “however, I would like to know how you became Sera, how Lieutenant Zh’riakrer died, and how you’re going to deal with your new abandonment...this time by the Legion. There’s only so much a girl can take before she doesn’t know where her soul is... “
The matter of fact tone that her interrogator had employed was possibly more damaging that any physical interrogation. She did indeed see herself in a situation that continued her path of betrayal and abandonment by those that she had put her faith in. But she still wouldn’t break, if for no other reason that a remnant of professional pride. She hadn’t broken for the Breen and she wouldn’t break for Starfleet or Shadow Operations either. She didn’t have much else left, other than that. The woman’s words had stung- her continued betrayal by those she had put her faith in. She mentally shook her head, not realizing she had actually physically given it a slight shake. “Nice. Hope your Captain enjoyed that.  Hope you ALL enjoyed that!” she spoke to the room.   
T’Aayla noted the increased pushback.  Something had hit home.  Yes, of course everyone is watching.   Hopefully I won’t be removed from being in charge of you. You know we have a very large angry Carnora on the team don’t you.  He was kinda miffed he wasn’t put in charge.”
“So now comes the bad cop?”
“I don’t know.  I hope not, I’d prefer we continue our conversations, T’Aayla replied putting her elbows on the table and acting a bit tired, but strategically cupping them over her eyes so none of the holodeck cameras could view them, she added an intense and knowing look at Zh’riakrer. After several seconds, she stood up. “We’re done for now. I do hope we can continue our conversation soon.  I’ll make sure you have things to help you pass the time in your cell until we have opportunity to drop you off at a Starbase, or whatever place it deemed appropriate by the bureaucrats.” She smiled slightly, a genuine smile, but one also that contained a hint of sadness. Then looking up, she stated, “Return Sera to her cell.”    
As Zh’riakrer shimmered out of existence, she rose, and once Zh’riakrer was gone simply stated, “Computer, end program.”   
Reepchip saw the shake of the head and a few other things as well. When T’Aayla asked him what he saw, Reepchip chittered in thought, still nibbling on some dried meat.   
“How in the Starless Sky do I translate this?” he said. “This will sound strange, but there are words amongst my people that I simply don’t know how to say in English, so I apologize if I sound strange when I use my own language.” 
He switched to MranasaaTet and let the Universal Translator figure out what he was saying. The switch was made clear by the disappearance of his habitual squeaks, yips, and accent, but he spoke MranasaaTet as slowly as he did English, so that T’Aayla and Jahkar could follow him. “Sera still walks very closely with the ghost of Zh’riakrer, and she has never tried to send that ghost away. They are so close that I don’t think Zh’riakrer ever Died in Name. I do not read Andorian body language well, but there were times when the Ghost of Zh’riakrer heard you very well.” He thumped his tail from side to side, the Muran equivalent of a shrug.
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.20
Jahkar found himself relieved when Raillius ended the interrogation, but he was surprised they had essentially gotten nowhere. He wasn’t really sure what the commander was trying to accomplish, but he trusted she knew what she was doing. 
“That was short,” he said to Raillius. “What’s the game plan?”
Lt. Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.21
“I tried to do a couple things. First, by making it short and dismissing her value as an asset and saying whatever she gives us will likely be useless, I hopefully reduced her guilt for ‘betraying’ the Legion and hence her resistance. Second, I shifted the conversation away from what she expected to resist, to asking her some questions about her core and motivations that will play over and over in her head, and at least it gives her a space to talk about something that seems harmless. Getting a prisoner to talk can lead to slip-ups.    Possibly. She may never crack under any circumstances. She’s been hardened, she’ll not crack easily. And, possibly more importantly, its been proven that prisoners will tell an interrogator what they think they want to hear during a physical torture… it’s hard to trust anything that comes out of those sessions. Or, the prisoner just simply hardens their resolve not to talk.” She paused, and Jahkar saw an uncharacteristic haunted look in her eyes, “I was tortured over the span of a full year and didn’t talk. I got to the point where I looked forward to death, but I didn’t break.” Her mind shifted back to that time ten years ago.  
Flashback 
10 years ago
Reman Prison Complex 
Jamie regained consciousness, her breaths coming in great shuddering, heaving gasps.  She leaned over weakly and violently vomited large amounts of water and small amounts of residual stomach contents.            Her body spasmed uncontrollably and she continued alternatively vomiting and gasping for breath for the next several minutes.   Once she had recovered, the group of prison guard interrogators held her securely down again.   “I’ll ask again Prisoner 33, what is the primary shield harmonic of a Sovereign class vessel?   You don’t want the water again do you?  Tell me now.” 
Jamie weakly shook her head no for the sixth time that day despite the dread fear of being drowned yet again.  In response, one of the guards proceeded to shove a tube down her throat.  The tube was attached to a large water tank.   She struggled, but to no avail.   The fact that she was being held down physically by guards rather than inanimate restraining devices made it more frustrating and agonizing that it already was.   It emphasized her utter helplessness.
“Your decision 33,” the guard grinned maliciously.   Seconds later the water started flowing and Jamie fought not to inhale the liquid.  She managed to swallow and not inhale for some time, but the flow was too much for her.   Ultimately, despite knowing to inhale meant to inhale water, not air, her autonomic reflexes forced her to breathe in. The water went into her lungs, and she instinctively and reflexively panicked as she felt herself drowning.  Her muscles tensed and she thrashed violently as the irresistible drowning panic came over her.   The guards held her unyielding as her thrashings became weaker and weaker and then stopped altogether as she lost consciousness.
She awoke again to chest compressions, followed by violent vomiting, and relived the experience another three times.  Each time she drowned, the guards would resuscitate her so they could do it again.   At the end of the session, they dragged her back to the prisoner’s common cell and bodily threw her in. She landed face first on the dirt floor, too exhausted from the ordeal to even move. As he had many times before, the other sole surviving member of her crew, the tough Australian marine, Lance Corporal Paul Irwin went to her, picked her up gently, and retired to their corner of the common cell. He sat down cross-legged, cradling her in his lap with her head supported on his shoulder. The other prisoners kept their distance. They had learned that to try to take advantage of the unconscious Prisoner 33 meant to incur the wrath of the big blond human.  
After several minutes Jamie stirred, and opened her eyes.  Her first sight was the usual one she saw after regaining consciousness from the interrogations; Paul Irwin’s eyes looking into hers with concern. She sighed, and closed them again, comforted by the knowledge that the torture was over for the day and she was safe at least for the time being. She relaxed as much as it was possible in the hellish environment she lived.  She reflected on the steady Starfleet marine. He had physically been the strongest of the Starfleet survivors from the Phoenix, one of the three marines that T had assigned to protect her during the boarding of the Romulan ship. Now he was her sole remaining crew, and he continued to follow his last orders to protect her. He guarded her while she slept, made sure she received food when she was too broken to fight for it, and had shielded her from as much of the day to day torment as possible. She had fought not to develop feelings for the steady Starfleet marine because she knew his death was a matter of when, not if, but had been unable to stop those feelings from forming.Their relationship was platonic, the pits prevented anything more, but her ties to him had become strong nonetheless.  She now feared those ties because she knew they could be used against him, or her.  She was careful to keep appearances that he was simply looking after his superior officer and to hide her feelings for him from her captors.
He had at first been formal as befit his lowly rank compared to her lofty one, but the shared experience in the pits slowly broke those barriers down.   Once the barriers were down, she had found him to be full of character, interesting, engaging, smart, and kind.  There were nights she fell asleep cradled in his arms.  She realized that she could truly have fallen in love with him in another time and place, and it was only the sure knowledge of the likelihood of him dying that had prevented her from fully falling in love with him now.   She allowed herself the comfort of being held, and opened her eyes again.  
“What was it this time?” he asked, attempting to muster as casual a conversational tone as possible.
“The drowning,” Jamie answered, unsuccessfully attempting to hide the horror in her eyes. 
“The immersion tank, the bucket or the hose?” he asked.
“The hose again,” she whispered.  He held her a bit tighter.  He knew that was one of the worst.   She did better with the beatings where it was simply pain to deal with.   The drownings added another dimension of helplessness that he knew was especially painful for her.  At least during the beatings she could fight back by showing her resolve and not crying out. With the water, she couldn’t control her natural responses to drowning. They used various methods. Aside from the hose down the throat, one would place her in a transparent chamber, seal her in and then water would be pumped in.  She’d keep her head above water as long as possible, gasping at air at the top of the tank, but it would invariably fill. Another simply had a guard holding her head down in a bucket of water. He knew she was beaten in all different manners, via open hands, fists, canes, lacerating whips, flat boards, and other painful implements. Different parts of her body were targeted on different days and at varying levels of severity. He had bandaged them all. They usually stopped short of breaking any major bones, but usually resulted in her passing out from pain. All he could do was to pick up whatever pieces they left of her at the end of the session and try to keep her alive.
“At least I don’t have to stitch you up again with thread from my tunic,” he said attempting to raise her spirits, “The bottom is getting too short for comfort.”
That elicited a very small smile from her, which was a big victory for him. He surveyed her wrists and ankles, and saw the fresh bruises caused from being held down while she struggled. His heart went out to her each time she returned. He placed a small cup of water to her lips, watching her flinch at the feel of it, and patiently waited for her to take several small sips. She ironically had to drink so she would not become dehydrated.  The vomiting from the drowning left her stomach empty of anything. He admired her, strong despite her weaknesses. That admiration had over time changed into familiarity, and then into something akin to love.  Whatever confused feelings he had for her only cemented his resolve to protect her all the more.  He had his duty as a Starfleet marine, as a man, as a friend, and as a covert boyfriend. She rested in his arms, her body limp, eyes closed, nothing left in her. Slowly and with infinite patience he broke off small pieces of bread, dipped them in the water and fed them to her. After a while she managed to open her eyes again.  
“I’m just glad it’s me and not you,” she whispered.  “It hurts more when they take you.” His heart ached as he heard the words.  How he just wanted to take her away from all this hopelessness, from the pain, the suffering.  But he couldn’t. "They’ll be cycling back to the electrocutions again if they stay on schedule,” she whispered matter-of-factly. “You’d better get that burn salve of yours ginned up again.”
“Yes, Sir.” he replied, smiling to hide his discomfort. Internally he flinched at the memories of seeing her after those sessions. In addition to the burns, he’d had to bandage her joints, as she often dislocated them in her electrified thrashings. He was pushing his first aid training way beyond what he had been trained for in Starfleet, but he seemed to have a natural aptitude for it. Perhaps it was just his desire to see her made well again that pushed him beyond what he thought himself capable. He ignored his own bruises and pains.  He was tortured relatively infrequently compared to her. He suspected it was because they wanted him in good condition for the matches.  He was seen as a worthy opponent, and he fought about twice as many matches as she did.  Her battles, he knew, were as much mental as physical.  The Romulans were relentless in their efforts to get her to talk. He knew that in addition to the drowning, electrocutions and beatings they had also more creatively tortured her. She had been deprived of sleep for days on end. She had been forced to spend days in a small box in a fetal position, had been hung by her wrists or feet for hours, and been thrown into a subzero freezer until hypothermia claimed her. She had been tied to a pole in an excruciating painful position outside for two days during Remus’ cold and rainy season. They had smothered her multiple times, using a pillow, or other various gagging mechanisms while her hands were tied behind her. They had even buried her alive in a small wooden coffin, allowing her to pound and scratch at the insides of the wooden box for hours, all the while thinking she would die. The one thing he was thankful for was that she was not used again as T’Lek had used her. He remembered that day and the horror of it, at least until his head had been bashed strongly enough from his struggles to help her, to render him unconscious. He couldn’t imagine what effect that had on her; at least the torture now was gender neutral, and simply textbook sadistic.  The Romulans were very careful to stop short of killing her or otherwise permanently damaging her, and that indicated to him that her torture would be continuous and ongoing.  
She had also been injected with all manner of drugs to loosen her control and to elicit information.    He wasn’t sure what she had said while under the influence, but if the attitude of her interrogators meant anything, it suggested her information was not enough to prevent them from being berated for lack of ability.   The fact that the interrogations continued regularly hinted that she had not divulged anything important. He knew she had been hard conditioned as a member of Shadow Ops, and apparently those internal mental barriers were enough to deflect chemical interrogation. But the worst of all for her was when her fellow prisoners would be tortured on her behalf.   If she didn’t reveal any information, they received the types of punishment she had undergone. Having experienced it herself, she felt every torture inflicted on her fellow crew mates twenty times over. Some had broken and talked, but since most were lower level officers or crewmen, they hadn’t known anything especially useful to the Romulans. She was especially mentally devastated after those occurrences and it was all he could do to keep her going, or even from harming herself. he had to watch as two of her crew were killed in front of her for her not revealing any information. He had witnessed it. They died slow agonizing deaths. From listening to her dreams in the middle of the night as he held her, he knew she relived those and other scenes every night.  
At first, she hadn’t said anything to him about what was going on, keeping the details private, but over time she opened-up to him. Now, they discussed the day’s events clinically, as if she wasn’t part of them, and theorized how best to resist them in the future. They talked about techniques to win their next matches as well. They even analyzed escape options… as if any escape was possible here. Whatever he could do for her, he did. He gave her whatever mental strength he could, let her use him in whatever way she needed. A slight movement from Jamie brought his attention back to the here and now.  
Jamie smiled and her hand slowly moved to his, as she kept her eyes locked on him. That glance and slight pressure transmitted everything she couldn’t say aloud. She took solace that once again, she had come back to find Paul alive, and that she had told her captors nothing. She had left them frustrated and discouraged.   She knew from their demeanor that some of the Romulans had become impressed with her resolve. Her secret that they did not know, her secret that she could not even tell Paul, was that she embraced the pain they inflicted upon her as a just punishment for her failure, as her responsibility for bringing this on her crew.   That somehow gave her the strength to both receive the pain and to bear the pain.       
This embracing of the pain made it a part of her, and in an odd psychologically complex way, made her stronger. But for now, she blanked all from her mind and enjoyed the feeling of the strong comforting arms around her.
She was silent for several seconds, and Jahkar wondered where she was. Once she returned her attention to him, she shifted the subject “ Do you have thoughts on how to work Zh’riakrer?” 
MEANWHILE…
Klingon High Council
Qo’noS
Stardate 1910.23
“I will have order!” Chancellor Martok roared in anger at the scores of rowdy Klingons assembled in the main hall of the High Council chambers. “Do as I say! I am not yet too old to come off this chair and take a bat’leth to each and every one of you!”
The one-eyed Klingon with long gray hair slammed a polished rock that served as his gavel on the arm of the throne like chair several times to emphasize his growing anger with the rest of the council.
Finally, the yelling faded, and the room was filled with grumbling voices as the Klingons each turned their attention on the warrior who had led them for 20 years. Martok was growing old, that was certain, but no one dared challenge him for leadership of the Empire…not yet, at least.
“This madness must end Martok!” Lord Kolak barked, baring his teeth. “These rebels have wreaked havoc upon the empire for too long. If we have the traitor Krang returned to us and execute him as the dishonorable petaQ he is, these terrorists who kill in his name will end their reign of terror!”
Kh’ork of the House of Ja’jesh stepped to the front of the council and looked around, a crazed gleam in his eye. “That’s what he wants! To be made a martyr! We should let him rot in that Federation prison where he has been now for 20 years.”
Lady T’drall then stood tall and shook her fist in the air, “A public execution! A death fit for a butchering coward! Klingons do not murder innocent children, putting their heads on pikes! It’s barbaric! And rape? It was an outlawed practice in war more than 100 years ago. Uncivilized! We are Klingons! Not plundering pirates!”
Martok nodded, “The lady is correct! Remember that this ha'DIbaH (animal) sanctioned the butchering and cannibalism of Federation war dead! These are not the actions of a Klingon warrior! They are the actions of a madman and a clan of followers who to this day follow him and commit autocracies in his name – now against their own people!”
A roar went up among the Klingon council, which Martok worked for a good half minute to quell before he was able to have the floor once again.
Kolak waited for the raucousness to settle, then he resumed his tirade. “Speaking of Krang’s followers and their actions against the Klingon Empire, what do we know about the destruction of the shipyards at Kosh’korvak a week ago? We lost the shipyard, three Birds of Prey and the new flagship IKS CharghwI'. Not to mention the loss of 680 Klingon lives.”
Martok growled low in his throat. “The investigation is still ongoing. But early findings suggest the shipyards were destroyed by weapons fire.”
An audible stir went up throughout the chamber. As the council members argued and proclaimed their offense at news the attack of the Kosh’korvak shipyard, the sergeant-at-arms, a warrior named K’ulek, stepped away from his station and shouted in a booming voice, “The orbital defense network was just taken down! I cannot activate defenses for the High Council Chambers!”
“What?” Martok proclaimed. “There are no orbital defenses? Qo’noS is vulnerable to attack!”
“This is a prelude to an attack!” Kolak said. “We need to evacuate the council chambers!”
Ku’lak was back at his station, his hands frantically dancing across the keypad. “Detecting multiple transporter activity into the building. We are being invaded!”
Disruptors came out of holsters and security began to scramble throughout the building. Ku’lak began to gather the council members together to escort them from the building, but weapons fire from the mezzanine level above cut them off.
They looked up to see several security guards gunned down by several dark cloaked figures with rifles. The aggressors spanned out around the vacant mezzanine, a place usually filled with regional governors, military and public figures who observed during council proceedings. But today, during this secret emergency meeting of the council, the seats of the upper mezzanine were empty.
“Chancellor!” a large, black cloaked Klingon announced from the mezzanine. “Going somewhere? Don’t run away so fast? You’ve wanted this meeting for some time now, I believe!”
Martok’s head swung around and he glared up at the mezzanine level. The guards that were supposed to be up there were all dead, replaced by about a half dozen cloaked warriors, all with weapons trained on Martok and the council.
“You dare to come here?” Martok bellowed, shaking a fist at the stranger. “Kre’tok of the House of K'hmal! Son of Krang! You are an outlaw and a murderer! Kill him!”
The guards on the chamber floor aimed their weapons and prepared to fire, but from out of the darkness another warrior in black armor, with a blood red crest on the shoulder pieces of the suit, appeared in the mezzanine with a dha’tagh poised at the throat of an older Klingon woman.
“Lower your weapons,” Kre’tok said in an almost refined, educated sounding voice.  The dark-clad Klingon wore armor under long black robes, his long hair was neatly combed and pulled into a bun. He was handsome, especially for a Klingon, and carried himself with an air of importance. “It would be unfortunate if my colleague were to be struck by a disruptor blast and accidentally kill Lady Sirella, daughter of Linkasa, Mistress of the House of Martok.”
Martok gasped and then glared at the son of Krang, “How did…you will pay for this Kre’tok! I will personally gut you with my bare hands if you harm my wife!”
Kre’tok smiled, “The Klingon High Council. You sit here in your chambers and pass judgement on other Klingons, as if you are all somehow superior to them. My father is a great warrior and his deeds, while ruthless by the ‘civilized’ standards of this council, are not considered illegal by the ancient code Klingons once lived by. Our enemies deserve nothing less than what you condemn General Krang for!”
Several guards ran into the chamber below Kre’tok, while more entered various entries into the mezzanine where the Son of Krang and his henchman stood with Sirella, who was struggling to break from of the dark warrior. Many disruptors were trained on the intruders as the guards slowly closed in.
“You and your Iomqa’ Clan (Ghost Clan) will be stopped,” Martok said. “Your efforts to overthrow this government and seize power will not be successful! Now, release my wife and I will consider sparing your life!”
“Overthrow the government?” Kre’tok laughed. “You are becoming senile I think, old man. My father’s followers do not wish to seize power…they only wish to restore the Klingon Empire to the feudal system it once was…divided houses, each ruling their own lands and worlds, each free to do as they please. Whether that be to colonize or farm their lands or wage war against other houses to take more territory. An end to this broken system you cling to, this empire!”
“You’re mad if you think the great Klingon Empire will return to a place where feudal warlords rule their little kingdoms,” Lord Kolak joined in the argument. “Your Iomqa’ Clan will be stopped!”
Kre’tok looked around at the guards closing on them and he looked down at Martok and smiled, almost with an amused look. “We’ll return Lady Sirella unharmed when you bring my father to me, alive. You have one week to make this happen, or I will send you your wife in pieces, Martok.”
The dark clad Klingon barked a command into an open comm he was wearing, “muH!” It was Klingon for “execute.” At that moment he looked down at Martok and grinned wickedly, “That is, if you survive one final surprise I have in store for you.”
At that moment, Kre’tok and his minion beamed out of the chambers with the Lady Sirella, before the guards could react. Martok whirled and looked over to the sergeant-at-arms, who was still in his cubical at the edge of the council floor. “Quickly, scan for where that transporter beam took them!”
K’ulek, tapped commands into his station rapidly, but soon looked up and shook his head. “Chancellor,” he said. “I can’t determine where they transported to, but I am detecting incoming…it’s a spread of photon torpedoes!”
Everything happened so quickly it was hard to keep track. Several Klingons tackled Martok to the floor, while some dove for cover and others stood by in shock. There were even those who ran – all knowing what was about to happen.
At least one of the torpedoes, which rained down from the skies, slammed into the Klingon High Council chambers. The explosion blew one side of the building away, sending bodies and debris strewn haplessly around the chamber.
When the blast was over, survivors stood up and shook off the dust and debris. Smoke filled the building and fires were scattered around. No one remained standing after the explosion, those closest having been vaporized by the blast.
Moments after the torpedo exploded, two Klingons pulled an injured Chancellor Martok from the pile of bodies he was beneath. Bloodied and his armor tattered, the leader of the Klingon Empire was whisked from the council chambers to a secure bunker beneath the building. Medical crews beamed into the council building and began to render aide to the injured.
Below the council chambers, in the safe bunker, Martok looked around and saw one of the council guards. It was not K’ulek. The sergeant-at-arms had mostly likely perished in the blast.
“Warrior! How did Kre’tok do this to us?” Martok asked, his voice weak, betraying his injuries.
“They somehow hacked the defenses of the council building and beamed a small party into the mezzanine level,” the guard explained. “There were five dead Klingons there, all were council chamber guards. That was just before…the torpedo strike.”
Martok slumped into the chair guards had put him in as a medic began to tend to his wounds. He shook his head, “There was a spread of torpedoes? From orbit? What else did they hit?”
“Other targets around the capital,” the soldier reported. “I…don’t know what else they hit, sir.”
“Why didn’t he finish us off? Martok questioned as he began to feel the pain of his injuries.
“Because,” a battered and bloody Lord Kolak muttered as he was brought into the room by two more soldiers. “He wanted some survivors…to bring him his father. He knew you’d be protected. The lone torpedo assured many council members would die…but not you.”
“Get me the Federation president! NOW!” Martok rorared.
Lady T’drall, another survivor of the attack, approached Martok and placed a comforting hand upon his arm, “Martok. I know he has Sirella, but you must not give them Krang. Please, think of what might happen if he is returned to his followers.”
Martok looked at T’drall, a lost look upon his face, “Think of what they will do to her if I do not.”
“Chancellor, no!” she pleaded.
Martok pushed her away, “Bring me General Krang! Get me President Gant! I will not have my wife butchered by that petaQ and his band of murderers!”
T’drall stepped back into the chaotic crowd of injured council members now filling the bunker. Kolak stayed nearby and leaned down to glare at Martok, “You cannot give them Krang! This is war, Martok! The empire must declare war against this outlaw House and hunt them down.”
Martok rose from his chair and bared his teeth at Kolak, “We will have justice for what happened here today, Kolak. But first, we will bring the traitor Krang back to Qo’noS so my wife is returned to me safely. Now carry out my commands and get me the Federation president!”
Kolak gauged Martok and finally decided arguing with him further was not wise. He nodded to a security officer, who left to send the transmission to Earth.duce myself, my name is Seraphim.”
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 2: The Next Step ==
Commander Mayla Vree & Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection Captain's office
Stardate 1911.04
Lazarus already had Beckett's info on the Cardassian and the scarred faced Ferengi on the wall display before Mayla even sat down into the chair. Her eyes were also showing her the information in her augmented reality contact lenses fed from her own AI persona stored in the cloud.
"Do we have their location?" Mayla asked without any preempting.
Lazarus tapped a key. "A report show the Ferengi named Gaish, is seen around the Kazis Binary System." A map appeared with an image of a small freighter. "The system is at the border cusp of the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Empire. This is a strategic location for him as he can do business with three different customers from a localized location. We don't know which planet he's on, and this blurry image is the only one we have of his ship."
Mayla nodded. "The Cardassian, Krido Rit, was last seen around the Juhrya System. He must have his base of operations somewhere around there." She made note of its proximity to Deep Space Nine. "The locations of these two arms dealers on opposite sides of the Federation gives Legion access to weapons regardless of where they are operating."
Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.06
After Lazarus spoke regarding the Ferengi arms dealer, he had a sudden realization. "Odd. the Kazis system was the location of the terrorist incident at the joint Klingon/Federation/Romulan summit several years ago. The one where USS Repulse was destroyed, and Shadow Ops agents Jack Dark, Taryn Kane and Sontag were killed. There has been a theory, it was even mentioned during our debrief a few hours ago, that Legion may have been that terrorist group. They were never identified, and their motives were unclear."
He looked to Mayla, "Do you think there's any significance to that?"
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.06
Mayla stared at a separate screen which held the results of Starfleet Intelligence's investigation and classified report of the destruction of the Repulse. She remembered all three deceased operatives when Kane and Sontag were both in Bravo Squad through Kyril's memories. And their brief encounter with Jack Dark for a mission briefing on the Intruder. Over the course of her own 'exposure' to Shadow Operations, many operatives had died in the line of duty in the name of protecting the Federation. Every operative who outlived SO field work was a gem, and a rarity. For a brief moment, she wondered, again, where her father was. Would Starfleet Intelligence tell her if he had died? She quickly brushed the thoughts aside as Lazarus awaited her answer.
"We should investigate how long Gaish has been operating in that sector. The Kazis System is so close to the Neutral Zone, one side or the other must have some record of him or his ship operating there." Mayla tapped a key on another screen as if looking for something. "We only have what Starfleet Intelligence's report. There's nothing from the Klingons or Romulans investigation." She looked at Lazarus wondering if it needed a higher security clearance than she had. Her's was pretty high already and was surprised nothing showed up for her.
Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.07
Lazarus nodded, "I'll talk to MacLeod. He has resources in the Klingon Empire. Why don't you speak with Commander Raillius. She may have someone in the Romulan Empire we can obtain information from."
The comm-unit on Lazarus' desk chimed and he turned his head toward it, "Lazarus here."
"Captain," it was Lt. Commander McGuire. "Incoming priority transmission from Admiral MacLeod."
Lazarus raised an eyebrow, "Put him through."
The Scot appeared on a holographic projection pad on the floor by the bulkhead. His expression was grim. He looked at Lazarus, then to Vree. "Captain, commander."
"What can we do for you, admiral?" Lazarus asked.
"We've just received word from the Klingon Empire that a terrorist faction there has attacked Qo'noS," said MacLeod. "The terrorists have taken Chancellor Martok's wife hostage and they are demanding the return of General Krang, a war criminal held by the Federation, in exchange for her life."
Lazarus looked to Vree, "Krang. Wasn't it his followers Jahkar believed to be responsible for that attack you were investigating when we brought you back into Shadow Ops?"
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection
Stardate Stardate 1911.07
Mayla hesitated for a moment before answering him with the Admiral listening in. "My team and I were tasked to take out a Klingon terrorist cell on Qo’nos the High Council had determined a direct threat on their very own home planet."
"The High Council asked Starfleet Intelligence for help?" Lazarus said slowly and carefully, thinking of the implications of that act. "So, Chancellor Martok authorized it."
She could tell the Admiral's attention was diverted. She suspected he was going over Echo Team's mission details. "I have a linked reference here from Martok to your father," MacLeod said. "He's met the chancellor?"
Mayla referred back to the memory of Ky's meeting with then General Martok. "It was a long time ago during the Dominion War. General Martok and a Romulan representative brought a mission to Bravo Squad. After several failed allied (Klingon-Romulan) frontal assaults, their mission was to infiltrate the docking facility and destroy a prototype Dominion dreadnought nearing completion." Mayla's voice turned hard. "The Romulans left the team behind to die on the dreadnought. It was not a good mission, but the mission was accomplished either way. Ky was verbally reprimanded for...roughening up a Romulan senator at Deep Space Nine afterwards."
Lazarus laughed. "I remember that. Admiral Ross had some choice words for Sorvek." His laugh suddenly disappeared. "The Intruder was at a refit at the time at Frondel V when it was attacked by the Jem'Hadar. We barely escaped."
The young trill nodded. "Prototype carbon stealth coating on the Intruder."
The captain nodded proudly. "We barely made it back to EpSeven."
Mayla brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. "My team went in to the stronghold and left no one alive. We searched through the facility and took a high resolution scan of the entire facility. We also took their data cores. Starfleet Intelligence might have some information decrypted by now."
Captain Quentin Lazarus & Admiral Ian MacLeod
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.10
MacLeod's hologram nodded, "I've cleared you to speak with Starfleet Intelligence and to receive any and all data recovered from your raid against the Klingons. See what you can find out. Admiral Sorvek is scheduled to meet with the president shortly. He's seeking clearance to send Resurrection to retrieve General Krang and take him to be turned over to the Klingons. If there's any foul play involved in the transfer, I want Shadow Ops on top of it."
Lazarus turned to MacLeod, "So, should I head for the Tantalus system? Krang is still incarcerated at the Tantalus V prison colony, is he not?"
"Not yet," said the Scot. "Let's see what Sorvek finds out."
The captain of Resurrection gave a slight nod. "Then we'll continue holding in orbit around Andoria Prime?"
MacLeod frowned, "I hate to continue having you hold there. The glorious part of Resurrection is the coaxial drive can get you just about anywhere you want to go, almost instantly."
"Assuming there isn't a miscalculation," Lazarus muttered. "Carmichael assures me its ready, but that thing still makes me nervous."
"I'm not sure where your leads from the Andorian mission are going to take you," said MacLeod. "But in all likelihood, you're going to want to further investigate these weapon dealers. I also think at some point we are going to become involved in the Klingon situation. I wish they'd bloody let us bring back another Shadow Ops unit."
Lazarus nodded, "Agreed. We have the mission ship, back at Ops Base One, that could be brought into play if you wanted to split the team -- send some to investigate the weapon dealers and the rest stay aboard Resurrection to deal with the Klingon situation."
"If you're sent to bring Krang to the Klingons, then yes," said MacLeod. "I'll have an answer from Admiral Sorvek within the next couple hours. When I hear something, I'll be in contact. MacLeod out."
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.11
The image disappeared, leaving the room in silence. Lazarus tapped a key in the air next to his terminal. "Lazarus to Bridge, what's our current position?"
"Sir, we are holding position in opposition to Andoria Prime," the bridge officer on duty responded. With the eighth planet in between them and the planet, Lazarus felt they were in a good position to stay hidden. But from past experiences, he liked to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. He ordered the bridge to plot an escape course out of the system.
"What do you want to do?" Lazarus asked Mayla. "If the President gives us the go ahead."
"If we are just transporting a prisoner to the Klingons, splitting up the team would allow us to vector in multiple tasks." Mayla had to give this next personnel assignment some thought. "Do you need me here since we are going into Klingon space, and that I have the most experience with the current situation with Krang's followers?"
Lazarus looked at the virtual screen in his eyes as information flowed in from Starfleet Intelligence on their findings at the Klingon stronghold Mayla's Echo Team assaulted. She was in direct contact with those following Krang; her presence may be necessary in case the transfer doesn't go as planned. Or if they encounter any of his devoted followers. "I want you here for that exact reason."
"Fine," Mayla said. "I'll look into several scenarios for splitting up the team depending on what the Admiral orders us to do."
"Good. You're dismissed, then."
Madcap Engineers
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.11
After more attempts, the Madcaps had to admit defeat.  Their training from Commander James Moses had generally had an answer, but this time, there was none.  They compiled everything the had tried into a report, and sent it back to Ops Base One, then they began checking the ship’s computers, seeking any data transfer that might have been a transporter pattern.
After a couple of hours, a report came back from Ops Base One — there had not been a data transfer that might have been a transporter pattern. It was another dead end. 
At that point, Spargan declared simply returning to their regular duties was the most logical thing to do, and Daven agreed.  Not even Grollan had any arguments.
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.11
After talking with Mayla, Ryramorl went to meet with Cody Beckett.  “I’d like to see the names of those two arms dealers.  I think I may know them,” he said.
Cody still sat at his table in the mess hall when Ryramorl approached him. The hulking figure of the Carnora caught Cody's attention, and as he looked up, Ryramorl spoke without further notice, asking the names of the arms dealers. Cody just nodded, took a padd, copied over the data and handed it to Ryramorl. Cody had seen a fair part of creatures during the days of his work for his family's company. Exotic, native creatures, on a long list of planets, moons and nebula's. But he never had seen a Carnora before Ryramorl and Reepchip. The cat-like creature made him feel uncomfortable, nervous even. Ryramorl seemed not to notice as he was looking at the data on the padd…
Ryramorl, however, was well-used to the scent of a nervous human and the sound of a heightened heart rate.  As he finished reading, he blandly said, “Please tell your heart to calm down.  It is making so much racket I have difficulty concentrating.”  
He then went over to a replicator and got a mug of water and an empty mug from it.  “Amongst my people, to offer an outsider a drink from the rivers in one’s own territory is a gesture of offered peace.  When we are far from those rivers, this takes the same meaning.”  
He poured some water into the empty mug and set it before Cody.  “Come, Let Us Share Water,” he intoned, before taking a drink from his mug.  “As for the two arms dealers, I believe the Ferengi has had dealings with Lyral and Liral D’Hronarin, who are mercenaries and pirates from my homeworld.  They are a shifty pair, and keep disreputable company, but they may be a good source of information.”  
He gave a pulsating growl that was a Carnora’s equivalent of a chuckle.  “Jahkar . . . won’t like talking to them, though.  He knew them in their youth, when they kept company with a violent criminal.”
Cody eased up after Ryramorl offered him the mug of water. As Ryramorl drank, Cody did the same. The Carnora smiled — at least as far as Cody could tell. Still he had to collect himself before he could think of what Ryramorl had said about the arms dealers. 
“I guess that’s additional information for Lazarus and Vree.It might be useful to determine their next steps. “ 
Cody took his padd and added the information as an update to the already sent report. “ Then he looked up at the Carnora, who, albeit sitting down, was a lot bigger than Cody. “I’ve never been to Carnora. How does your homeworld look like?” 
“The name of my homeworld is Carnor,” Ryramorl responded.  “It is the outermost of the Great Moons of The Prince of Heaven--which is either a gas giant planet or a brown dwarf, our astronomers aren’t sure which it is.  Also, barring special circumstances, we do not allow non-Carnora on Carnor itself.  The other moons and our space stations, yes, but not Carnor itself.”  He then went on to describe the King of Heaven--an orange dwarf star, the distant red dwarf known as the Sentinel, and the bewildering calendar created by the other moons, the Sentinel, Carnor’s orbital/spin resonance, the constellations, and the Prince’s own rapid spin--but he spoke of it with the calm ease of someone who’d lived with that head-spinning mess all his life.
Carnor was also about Earth’s size--maybe a bit bigger.  It was also a bit cooler than Earth was, though not nearly as cold as Andoria.  Instead, its tropics were similar to the warmer temperate climates of Earth..
Cody listened to Ryramorl, and absorbed all the words. Of course, he could have just checked the database and find out everything the big Carnora told him. But hearing it from a native made it so much more interesting than just plain facts and figures. The world of Carnor was intriguing. 
As Ryramorl finished his story, Cody had so much questions. "So, how many of your people are there? And are there more races than Reepchip and you? Can you tell me more about your evolution paths? "
“There are the Ataran, the Usarin, and a race we only know as the Seawalkers.”
The Atarans were about the same size as the Olverns--though inlanders tended to be smaller, and the Great Ocean Atarans larger.  They tended to be more adventurous--but more primitive as well, most living in stone-age societies on the many islands that dotted the Carnor oceans.  “If an Ataran offers to share water, drink carefully.  It might be water from the oceans.”
The largest--and rarest--of the land-bound Carnora were the Usarin, who stood head and shoulders even above Ryramorl.  Most of them, too, lived a very primitive life-style, near the southern pole.  The tribal chiefs relied heavily on shamans for advice.  The late Oldragus Ragoar had been one of the very few to venture off Carnor and the ONLY one ever to leave the  Antevas system altogether.  They had yet to formally join the Pentarchy, mostly because they were unsure how to choose an OverKing.
The largest—and least known—-of the Carnora were the Seawalkers.  Ryramorl told Cody they were so mysterious that nobody even knew what they called themselves, only that they lived in the great seas and oceans and the other Carnora (particularly the Ataran) considered them minor deities.  He also told Cody they had some sort of connection with a place called the Yarrowan Swamps (named for the ferocious, yet elusive monsters who lived therein), as about 1,000 years ago, a group of Atarans had tried to enter it by sea--only for the normally friendly Seawalkers to drive them away and threaten to destroy the ships if they ever tried again. These days, Carnora did patrol the borders of the swamps--both to keep the Yarrowan at bay and to keep intruders out.  
Ryramorl had been in one or two skirmishes with the Yarrowan, and he brushed his eyepatch meaningfully.  The monsters generally attacked with bare claws, though he had seen them use clubs as well.
There was a sixth group as well, known as the Haranan.  They were not native to the Antevas System at all, but instead a cell of human Maquis and their descendants.  The acceptance of the Maquis was one of a few sore points between the Federation and the Carnora, as the Carnora not only afforded the Haranan a level of citizenship, but had recently considered allowing them to move to Carnor proper, which would make them full citizens of the Pentarchy..
Cody nodded. “Seems your homeworld is quite a harsh place. “ he stated. The Carnora was actually quite sympathetic. Or at least acted like it. Though he didn’t seem to be the type to be nice when he didn’t like you. “I’d love to know more about Carnor. But I need to get back to work. There is still a lot of analysis to do on the nanites. It’s fascinating, I’ve never seen nanites which where as sophisticated as these ones. I wonder where it comes from….”
“Jahkar suggested Risa,” replied Ryramorl.
Commander Mayla Vree & Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.11
After her meeting with Lazarus, she found Daryl waiting at the door of her quarters. She could see the look on his face, despair, fear, and a little bit of anger.
"Something on your mind, Lieutenant?" Mayla asked, walking up to the door so it would open.
"About what you said in the meeting; about me sitting this one out," Daryl said in a slightly less unconvincing voice. All of a sudden, his bravado disappeared. Her manner was so much like her father and it still caught him off guard.
"Come in," Mayla beckoned him to enter. He sat down in the only chair in the room and Mayla leaned up against her bunk bed. When the door closed, she activated her own dampening field that would jam any electronic signal, subspace or otherwise, in or out of her quarters. 
"You must understand our perspective. One of our fellow operatives was infiltrated just as a mission began and was embedded with an enemy who seemed to know more about our newly formed team than we about them. How are we supposed to treat you after your escape from them? We don't even know if your escape is by design to infiltrate us."
Daryl shifted in the chair. Then he looked at Mayla. “You don’t trust me. The team doesn’t trust me. I saw the looks on the faces in the meeting. The look that says they think I’m the same traitor as the clone that caused all the havoc. All the deaths, all the destruction. They think I am the same. Especially now I was compromised and spent time with Legion…” Daryl felt his anger rising again “All I did was try to stay alive. To get information. To help Starfleet and the Federation….” his voice hampered and he swallowed heavily to keep his emotions in place. 
Mayla saw the anguish in his face and couldn't help but to feel sympathy for him. After his ordeal at the hands of Section 31, a prisoner in a mining colony, and imprisonment, she could understand his own distrust and accusations of an organization who had abandoned him. She needed to make it clear to him that wasn't going to happen here. Despite his clone's actions with Bravo Squad, she had to make sure he still remembered he was beginning with a clean slate. But this last mission did put a slight mark on that slate, and it wasn't his fault.
"With the exception of Lazarus and I, none of this team knew your clone. They only see what your profile says, Daryl." Mayla said softly, now switching to his given name. "So what you see in their faces is the same face we are all giving to each other. New team, new faces, maybe some even new identities. You can't expect the whole team to entirely trust each other after one mission. We don't know each other well enough. And in regards to this aftermission assignment, I need you to concentrate on your report on the Legion because we know nothing about them. And you are the only one that's been on the inside."
Daryl's anger tempered slowly. Perhaps she was right. The team was new. And even though some of them knew each other from earlier days, a lot of time had gone by. For that matter, the only one he knew was Jahkar. And even though it seemed Jahkar had moved on with his life, he certainly hadn't forgotten what had happened in the early days of Bravo Squad, before Daryl had been replaced by his clone. 
He nodded. "I  guess you are right. I might have jumped the gun with my assessment of the situation. " He gazed at the wall "I sometimes think that emochip in my head messes with me. That it doesn't help me in the right way...that it prevents me from going through the emotions to process them." 
He looked at the younger Vree. "I better have it checked then, I suppose". He stood up. "Thanks again, Mayla. I will see that I finish the report as soon as possible. Let me know if there's anything else. Until then, I will go through a thorough check up with the EMH and run some holosims. I can use some additional training, both physical and mental…."
"I appreciate you coming to me with your concerns. You've been out of our cloud for a while, and while you have gone through SO training, experience hadn't come enough for you. Remember your training. There are still several of Jahkar's combat training sims in the holodeck that I still use occasionally. And if you ever want me to join you in the holodeck, I'll be glad to." She was about to see him out when she remembered something else. "You know another sim that might help with settling your mind and emotions. A former Bravo Squad member, James Doblin, was a Dragon Palm master. Many of the operatives after his death went through his training sims. The combination of meditation and fighting technique helped with winding down after a mission and centers the mind and settles the soul. Maybe you can give it a try. I think it might help you."
Daryl nodded. “I will look into it. Seems I can use some balancing. I’ll talk to Jahkar as well to run some more holosims. “ He looked at Mayla. “Thank you, Commander. I know your time is limited, yet I appreciate the time you take for me. “ 
"Anytime, Lieutenant." Mayla said and just as the door was about to close, she held it open. "You know you and Lazarus are the only two I know of left from my rescue from Purgatory on Toltani V."
Daryl's mind whirled back to the Bravo Epsilon Seven mission to rescue Admirals Alynna Nechayev and Edward Jellico from a Dominion/Cardassian forced labor camp called Purgatory. To be accurate, it was Ky who rescued the children at the camp who were held separate from the rest of the prisoners to keep them in line. Daryl and the rest of the team evacuated all the Starfleet and Klingon prisoners from the camp without any casualties, including Thomas Riker.
"I just wanted to say thank you for being there." Mayla said sincerely. Her life had changed after being rescued and led to her adoption by Kyril Vree.
Daryl smiled. “You are welcome, Commander. " He missed his old squad. His old friends. So much had happened since then. It was, literally, another life. Mayla was right. Only Lazarus and himself were there from the old days…Daryl recollected himself once more, but didn't fully succeed. He felt the tears burning behind his eyes. "I have to go for my check up. " Daryl said, and abruptly he turned around. He didn't want to that Mayla saw him cry, and he moved away from her with a quick pace.
As Daryl was on his way to the infirmary for his checkup, he contacted Jahkar about the holosims. Jahkar responded that he was busy, but that he would setup some holosims as soon as he had time. Daryl acknowledged. He walked into the infirmary, and was greeted formally by one of the holonurses. “How can I help you?” she asked in a kind, but formal way. 
“I need a thorough analysis of my emochip “ Daryl stated shortly. “I think it needs adjustments or should even be disabled.” The nurse nodded, and gestured to the nearest biobed. Daryl laid down and relaxed, as the nurse tapped on her datapad, and a holoimage appeared over Daryl. “Please incorporate it’s functioning since I moved from Earth to Ops base One and cross reference it with the medical logs from the mission.” Daryl said. Each SO member’s physical and mental state was recorded during missions, which came to good use know to see if the chip might have interfered with events.
“Certainly” the nurse replied, and gave in some more commands. “The scan won’t take long, the nurse stated. “Please relax, I will be with you shortly."
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.11
“Do you have thoughts on how to work Zh’riakrer?” Raillius asked.
Jahkar shook his head and offered a slight smile, “I’m just the muscle,” he said. “Honestly, deception is the best I’ve got. I was on a mission with the 5th Marine Recon squad a few years back. We took down some Cardassian rebels who were trying to steal weapons from an Occupation Base on Cardassia Prime. We got a hold of their commander and needed to get intel from him on where the rebels were going to strike next. 
“We used a holodeck on the Marine transport ship we were assigned to and made him think he was being rescued by some of his compatriots. When he thought he was free and clear, he told them how to get to his group’s secret safehouse. We were able to find the rest of his cell and eliminated them.”
Jahkar sighed, “This Andorian...she’s a trained Starfleet Intelligence operative. She isn’t going to fall for anything like that. You seem to have a grasp of the psychological aspect of interrogation. That’s good. But it is going to require a great deal of time..that I’m not sure we have.”
The marine leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, “So we can’t force her to talk. We can mess with her mind, but it will take time...don;t suppose we have one of those Sybokian Vulcans lying around? Because at this point, something like that may be necessary.”
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.11
Reepchip looked between them, took a deep breath and said, “I am a low-level shaman, which means I have some telepathic abilities.  If you drug her to weaken her mind, I might be able to influence her dreams, though it would take time and I would have to meditate.  I’m sorry, I am no Silent Shaman, who can write thoughts on the mind as easily as we speak words, but I might be able to help …”  He paused.  “Maybe also talk to Spargan.  I don’t think he’s one of these Sybokian Vulcans, but his sense of logic can lead him to be ruthless at times.  And Daven’s a Betazoid, and he can boost my abilities.  We found that out in Starfleet Academy, when a cadet angered me, and Daven helped me that cadet nightmares.”  The two had gotten in a lot of trouble with that stunt.
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 3: A Plan Comes Together ==
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.14
Tiri retreated to her quarters after she and Mayla finished observing the interrogation. She filed a report with the commander about her observations of the prisoner, Sera. The Andorian woman appeared to her to be unemotional and resolved.
Sh'avelith had observed her actions, her mannerisms and her reactions to the interrogation. She was a hard read, but there were some telltale signs only another Andorian would recognize.
She could tell Sera would be difficult to break. Not only was she naturally strong and stubborn, but she was trained by Starfleet Intelligence. She was conditioned to resist interrogation and unless Raillius was really creative, she doubted that strong veneer would be easy to crack.
Still, there were moments when she sensed something was stirred in Sera as she listened to Raillius. Tiri got the feeling the woman felt betrayed by the Federation over her captured by the Breen. They had hung her out to dry…disavowing her very existence. That was enough to make anyone feel betrayed.
After she filed the report, she pulled up the personnel files on Daryl Thompson. Mayla seemed quite concerned about where his loyalties lay. She read over the file, everything she had access to with her clearance. He had been subjected to many hardships. It also made her wonder just how someone could endure so much and not have his loyalties affected – like Sera.
She sighed and turned the monitor off. Tiri then got a drink from the replicator and sat by the porthole in her quarters where she could look out onto her homeworld from orbit.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.15
As T’Aayla walked the mostly empty corridors of the Resurrection toward Zh’riakrer’s cell, she reflected on the past week of discussions.  She’d advanced the clock that the prisoner was on, slowly enough so she wouldn’t notice it, but enough to throw off her normal biological rhythms and start breaking down her sleep cycles.  She knew a trained operative would be on the lookout for such a tactic which is why she’d done it slowly, so there wasn’t an obvious tell.  She’d been the only person the prisoner had seen, and T’Aayla knew that despite being a prisoner, she looked forward to her visits, if for no other reason than to break the boredom.  T’Aayla had shared her story and had established a connection with Zh’riakrer.   She called her Sera, which was her chosen name and reflective of her current condition.   T’Aayla’s discussions had focused on the resons that Zh’riakrer had turned on the Federation as opposed to any hard intelligence and had been cast as T’Aayla’s (Jamie’s) need to process why she had turned her back on the Federation as Jamie T. Marcus had many years ago. The fact that Zh’riakrer was a trained operative had assisted T’Aayla in her efforts- as she had planned. Zh’riakrer could tell that T’Aayla was being honest in her shared emotional sharing of her own betrayal by the Federation, and she allowed Zh’riakrer to see her angst and anguish over that process. It had served to break down the prisoner-captor relationship. It also allowed Zh’riakrer some level of absolution, should she decide to take it. Here before her was someone who had also been grievously betrayed by the Federation and yet was now holding fast to its principles. If T’Aayla (Jamie) could forgive the Federation, perhaps she could as well.  Perhaps there was a path back?   
As T’Aayla entered the cell Zh’riakrer looked up from her sleeping slab and sat up, unsuccessfully hiding the slight smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.  She was perfectly capable of maintaining a straight face, so allowing the smile was a decision- either by design, or simply allowed. “Good morning Sera.”
“Good morning Jamie.”  Zh’riakrer straighted her tunic. T’aayla noted it- she was getting some self-respect back. She was giving that to her. Self-respect was necessary to repair the damage done by the Order.   
“I’m sorry, it’s been a while,” Jamie apologized. “I’m not on official time with you anymore. Brass has pulled the plug on your interrogation, and as XO I have to do all the crap that keeps the ship running so it’s been hectic repairing damage and dealing with personnel issues due to casualties. ”Zh’riakrer’s face slightly showed a mixture of relief at the interrogation officially ending, a letdown that she was considered unimportant enough to be interrogated, and a disappointment that Jamie might not be visiting much anymore.  
“But I’ll try to keep visiting,” T’Aayla added.  
“Thanks.”  There was a pause, “Have you heard what they plan to do with me?”
“The whole airlock thing is off the book at least.” T’Aayla responded.   It wasn’t quite a joke, Zh’riakrer knew that the rules for Shadow Ops weren’t like for regular Starfleet.  “We’ll deploy back to a regular Starbase at some time, then I suspect you’ll be handed over.”
“To spend the rest of my life in a bland Federation penal colony with a bunch of underpaid shrinks?”    Her look betrayed the fact that it was only slightly less worse than being put in an airlock.   “Maybe the airlock would be a better choice.”
T’Aayla advanced the play a bit further.  “I can…   I could bring you something that would end it, if you wanted.   One professional to another, one former prisoner to another,... I understand and owe you that option, although I’ll take personal heat from my Captain.”
Zh’riakrer looked up, allowing her facade of indifference to finally drop, “You’d do that?”  
“Yes.  I’ve been there.  I… I held a Rihansuu dagger at my throat at one point.  I was offered the option to take that route.”
“Obviously you didn’t…”  She couldn’t help the next question, “Why?”   
T’Aayla considered, and pulled out her PADD.  She hit a number of keys, and said, “Play the court-martial proceedings of Jamie T. Marcus.”  As it played for  Zh’riakrer, she remembered the last time she had seen the video.
10 years ago
House Raillius, Romulus
“You sent for me, sir?” Jamie asked in broken Romulan as she entered Raillius’ office.   It was covered in ornate wood paneling that looked as if it had been in place for centuries.  Given Romulus’ long history, it might very well have been that old.   She noted the contrast between the wood walls, wood furnishings, stone floor, and the high-tech computers and electronic systems contained within Raillius’ inner sanctum.   He looked up from some sort of display he was watching, that was shielded from her view, and nodded. 
“Yes, yes, I did,” Raillius answered, and indicating a different display on the other side of the office, he directed her to sit in the chair in front of it.   Jamie did as she was told; sitting in the hard wood chair, and Raillius joined her after several minutes.   “I wasn’t sure whether or not to show this to you,” he began, “But, I decided it best for you to see.”  
Jamie wondered what she was about to view, and hoped it wasn’t some catastrophic Federation defeat or disaster.   When Raillius activated the view screen, a Starfleet courtroom appeared.  It was the standard white walls, blue carpet, and white furnishings so often associated with Starfleet proceedings.   Officers milled about for several minutes, and an indistinguishable babble of discussion provided a muted soundtrack.   The look and quality of the film indicated to Jamie that it was a standard log device used to capture happenings on board starships, or meetings.   After everyone had been seated, three Starfleet officers appeared from off camera and moved to sit at a raised table at the head of the room.  Jamie recognized it as a Starfleet tribunal hearing.  
After ringing a small bell that sat atop the table, the middle officer that Jamie recognized as Admiral Sarah Dunham intoned, “The court martial of Captain Jamie Theresa Marcus will now begin.”   Jamie fought to keep any reaction from appearing on her face.   She knew Raillius was watching and she preferred to keep a stoic demeanor.
“Please read the charges.”   An adjutant off to one side at a video screen began, “On Stardate 2410.32 Captain Jamie Theresa Marcus, in command of the U.S.S. Phoenix did willfully violate direct Starfleet orders to not cross into the Romulan neutral zone in pursuit of an unknown ship that she claimed had allegedly attacked the Delta Trianguli Science Station.   As a result of her actions, Captain Marcus lost her ship with all hands aboard, including herself.”   Monotonously he continued, “A neutral Romulan vessel was severely damaged in the process.   No evidence existed that the Romulan vessel was indeed the ship that attacked the Delta Trianguli science station.            Over six hundred Romulan casualties were reported, and a formal diplomatic complaint was filed on behalf of the Romulan Empire.   As a result of Captain Marcus’ actions, a diplomatic crisis ensued, and the significant damage to diplomatic relations between the Federation and the Romulan Empire have yet to be fully restored to their previous condition.”
Admiral Dunham spoke after the charges had been read.  “This tribunal has been assembled to court martial Captain Jamie Theresa Marcus post mortem in absentia.”  She surveyed the courtroom with her narrowed eyes, “Starfleet does not condone its officers violating orders.   The chain of command must be maintained.  Officers such as Captain Marcus should realize that their actions reflect not only on the Federation directly, but also influence other officers and cadets.  The days of cowboy captains are over.  Starfleet will not tolerate its Captains willfully violating orders.  Although Captain Marcus has paid the ultimate price for her actions, it is necessary to conduct these proceedings to produce a fair and accurate account of the events leading up to the attack on the Romulan Starship Rapier, and resolve all outstanding issues.”  
Despite her best efforts at stoicism, Jamie’s face contorted to show her anger.   Off to one side Raillius watched closely. The tribunal proceeded methodically, starting with a detailed look into her past history starting as far back as her Academy days.   Events from her past were slowly but surely built up and woven together to create the sense that she was a rogue officer, just waiting to snap.   Numerous witnesses were brought in, and it made Jamie relive her entire professional career up to the point of her encounter with the Rapier.   The most egregious offense to her was the amount of classified material from her days with Shadow Operations that was brought to light.   She finally snapped when she saw her former Captain, the Gorn exchange Officer Captain Sortha, lumber into the room. The Gorn were a race of large bipedal reptiles, almost like an Earth dinosaur without a tail.
“What the hell,” she sputtered shaking her head in disbelief and anger.  Sortha had returned to the Gorn Confederation after Shadow Ops had been disbanded.  They must have recalled him specifically for this testimony.   He nearly crushed the witness chair as he settled uncomfortably into the relatively small seat.     
“Captain Sortha, you were Captain Marcus’ commanding officer?” the prosecutor began after confirming the Gorn’s identity.
“Yessssssss,” the Gorn hissed.
Jamie smiled slightly, fondly remembering how he hissed most every word. 
“During the time under your command, she was your tactical officer, holding the rank of lieutenant, and lieutenant commander?”
“Yess,” the Gorn hissed again.
“Can you tell us if she disobeyed any of your orders?” the prosecutor asked.
The Gorn bent down to look at the prosecutor closely, producing an uncanny impression that he was about to eat him, and replied.   “Sshe never disobeyed an order from me,” the Gorn intoned, his face unreadable to any but his own species.
The prosecutor looked down at his PADD reviewing his notes, “But on Stardate 2408.14, you ordered her to conduct a reconnaissance of the Breen outpost on Tecentra IV.  You stressed in your orders the need for secrecy and discretion.  However, she started a firefight during an unauthorized attempt to rescue several Federation prisoners.   That sounds like disobeying an order, and very similar to what she did on a larger scale for the incident that prompted these proceedings.”
Captain Sortha surveyed the courtroom, his mouth slightly open, revealing rows of sharp reptilian teeth.   He shifted in his chair, producing an ominous creaking sound from his undersized perch.   “My firsst order to Lieutenant Marcussss when sshe wass asssigned to my sship, wass to usse her brain and to evaluate all orderss in light of the current circumsstancesss.   The prisssonerss were all capshurrred command officerss, and could have provided the Breen with valuable informassshion on our operatshionss.   Once sshe learned of their exisstence, sshe effected a textbook ressscue of the capsshured officers and returned with them ssafely to the USS Fearlesss with no cashualtiess.   Sshe also managed to collect valuable intelligence on Breen opershionss by taking the opportunity to download informasshion from a Breen computer ssystem.”
“So you confirm she clearly violated your most recent direct orders,” the prosecutor concluded with a degree of self-satisfaction.  
This time Sortha leaned forward placing his massive head directly in front of the prosecutor’s, sending him stumbling backwards away from the Gorn’s fearsome visage.  
Raillius softly chuckled next to her, “Impressive, aren’t they?  Although we have been at war with them intermittedly for hundreds of years, I respect them as warriors.   He could rip that man apart as easily as you or I break a loaf of bread.”
“Yes,” Jamie agreed, recalling serving under the fearsome Gorn captain.   She remembered she had been intimidated by him at first, but his actual demeanor had displayed a dry humor that she had come to appreciate.   He had been a great Captain and she had soaked up everything he had taught her.
The prosecutor had recovered his stance, as Sortha replied. “No, sshe did not.  My earlier orderss to her to usse her disscretion when in command in the field ssupersseded thosse orderss…… asss any field officer sshould know.”          Somehow he managed to display a sense of contempt for the prosecutor and the entire court in his hissing deep reptilian voice.
After almost an hour of unproductive questioning the Gorn was released from his testimony, and he strode out of the courtroom, attendees moving rapidly out of his way as he plowed through the set of chairs where they sat.   Several chairs ended up overturned in his wake.  Just before he exited he turned and surveyed the courtroom and shook his scaled head slowly.  “Thiss tribunal is pathetic.   Jamie Marcuss was worth more than all of you combined.  You should all be ashamed of yoursselvess.”   With a shake of his head and a deepseated growl of disgust, he exited the room.  Jamie smiled and involuntarily placed a hand on the screen where her former Captain had been.  A tear prompted by his loyalty to her ran down her cheek.
Raillius watched closely.        
After noting that the other Captain she had served under, Captain MacLeod, was unavailable to testify, they proceeded onto the current events.  Captain Jameson of the USS Spruance was brought to the stand and they played her message sent to that ship. 
 “This is Captain Jamie T. Marcus, USS Phoenix.  We have detected an enemy vessel believed to be the vessel that attacked Delta Trianguli, attempting to return to the Romulan neutral zone in sector 12, Hermes belt.  Request immediate assistance.  Out. “  
The prosecutor then asked Captain Jameson to confirm the message he was ordered to relay to the USS Phoenix by Starfleet Command.   It played over the courtroom’s speakers, “Starfleet command.  Observe enemy vessel.  Wait for reinforcements.”             
Next the Captains of the Sutherland, Lydia, and Intrepid were brought to the stand.   All confirmed the orders.    Captain Sorvak of the USS Intrepid described halting the assembled Federation vessels on the edge of the neutral zone.  Captain Petty of the Lydia testified as well.   Alexander Duncan, the first officer of the Sutherland was brought in to testify as Captain Zaw-mon had died the previous year.   First officer Duncan, in particular seemed to be uncomfortable with the questioning.  In the end however, all were led by the prosecutor to confirm that to the best of their knowledge the Phoenix had attacked the Romulan vessel in direct violation of Starfleet orders.
After several more hours of testimony, and a mere half hour of deliberation, the court announced its findings.           Captain Dunham rose, her wrinkled features in a scowl, “This court finds that on Stardate 2410.32 Captain Jamie Theresa Marcus, Captain of the U.S.S. Phoenix did willfully violate direct Starfleet orders.   As a result of her actions, Captain Marcus lost her ship with all hands aboard, including herself.   For disobeying direct orders, and the loss of her vessel and her crew, Captain Marcus is hereby post mortem relieved from the rank of Captain and removed from Starfleet Command.  The record will reflect this and the fact that she acted on her own, and not on Federation orders.”   The recording then cut off.  Jamie remained where she was despite the pain in her back and legs from sitting in the unyielding chair so long.   The sky had turned from light to dark outside the windows of Raillius’ study.   The dim lights in the room now cast long shadows.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she replied without thinking.   She shook her head as if to remove the dazed effect she felt.   She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again, and again closed it.  
“I know this is hard, but do not take this personally.” He held up a hand, when he saw the flare of anger cross her face.   “They had no proof of the Rapier’s incursion into Federation space, and faced a diplomatic crisis.   My government of course took the position that you attacked the Rapier in the neutral zone in violation of treaty.   In order to maintain positive relations, your government elected to sacrifice your honor.  It was a small price for them once they thought you dead.   By doing so and officially stating you acted without orders allowed both Governments to move on.”
“I, I… it’s just not right” Jamie stammered, still trying to react coherently.   The video had clearly stunned and unnerved her.   Raillius did not take a hard line against the Federation by design.  
“My dear, you will find that what your Government did was not too much different from what mine would have done in a similar circumstance.  In these times it is all too common for the individual to be sacrificed on the altar of political expediency.  This is equally true of the Federation as the Empire, unfortunately.   There was a time when our peoples would not have acted so, however times have changed, honor is not as it once was.   It is sad, but is also the unfortunate truth. “
She slowly nodded, and he continued.  “Blaming you after the fact is sad but understandable, what I do not understand is how your fellow captains did not go to your rescue.  You and the Rapier were both in the neutral zone, both sides had reason and cause to assist.   Captain Sorvek was the senior Federation officer on site, a Vulcan.   He apparently obeyed his orders to the letter.  Such is the case with our distant cousins.”   They lost so much by denying their emotions.   Honor is an emotion.”  
“I, on the other hand,” he stated, rising, “Happened to be within range to give assistance to the Rapier.”  He looked out the windows into the night, “And although T’Lek was an idiot, I had to intervene to save his crew, and of course the Rapier.”  He returned to sit next to her and with a finger he gently raised her chin to look up, “and fortunately to save you as well my dear.”  He smiled.
“I wish I had died,” she acknowledged miserably.
Raillius’ face turned somber.  “That is an option with our people, and many would prefer death to dishonor… at least those of us remaining of the old guard.   But fate decided otherwise.  You are alive… at least in this house.  To all outside, you are dead.            Should you choose to end your life I would be honored to assist you as your second, but I would prefer you not.   I know your life has changed, but to end that life is to accept defeat, and I would be disappointed if you accepted that defeat. Your career in the Federation is not the only thing of worth in the Universe.  There is more, and if you are strong enough to redefine yourself, to cope with such a reversal you will find, I believe, I hope, a new reason for not only living, but prospering.”           His face reflected genuine concern.          “I am… sorry, that this is all I could do.” 
He looked away, his true thoughts a mystery to her, but his face betrayed remorse and embarrassment.   He looked back. “You deserve more, I know.  But I will give you my word that I will do as much as I can for you within the limits of my duties to the Empire.”  
“Strength and honor?” she said, a sad look on her face.
“Strength and honor,” he replied. 
She looked inward.   She had nothing left.   No career, no chance of escape, no identity.          Death would be easy.
“I, I... don’t think I want to live,” she said, her words croaking out of her tortured soul.  
Raillius put his hand on her shoulder.   “It is your choice.”   He got up and walked slowly to his desk, and retrieved a blade.   He gently placed it in front of her.  
Slowly she picked it up, her vision surreal, unable to feel connected with physical reality.  She studied the blade.  It was not ornate, but it was razor sharp, and finely wrought.  Like so many things Raillius possessed it was of the finest quality.          She took it with both hands and raised the point to her throat.  Her vision narrowed down to that point.   Her existence or nonexistence became that one point.
 Raillius watched breathlessly.
 Jamie held the position for a long time, her thoughts and emotions whirring about inside her.   Despite the hopelessness, and everything she had gone through, everything she had lost, she couldn’t quit.  She just couldn’t accept defeat.   Her anger at Admiral Dunham, at Starfleet for sacrificing her, for abandoning her, gave her strength to continue.   She used those negative emotions to feed her will to live, to survive, to someday right the wrongs that had been done to her, by the prison staff on Remus that had killed her crew, who had killed Paul Irwin, to the Klingons who had so murderously butchered the parents of little Shayla, to those who sat in their ships while Phoenix burned.  She let the anger build within her, rise to a crescendo, and the white heat of that anger dissipated her sadness and despair. Slowly she put the knife down, and looked up.  Her eyes held a different look now, one harder, more unrelenting than before.
Raillius noted it, and while keeping his face masked with a look of concern, inwardly he rejoiced.  He had been right.  She wouldn’t do it.   She had crossed yet another boundary, one of the many he knew she would need to cross on her journey.  
“I don’t think I’ll be needing this,” she finally said, placing the knife down.  He slowly withdrew it from the table.  
“I’m glad.  I would sincerely have missed our conversations.” He smiled.  “If you had done it, I never would have found out how you nearly destroyed poor Rapier.”
Jamie narrowed her eyes.  “And you still won’t,” she replied, but there was a glimmer behind her squint.
Zh’riakrer looked up at Jamie after watching the video, a look of genuine compassion on her face, that was also mixed with her own emotions of betrayal by the Federation. T’Aayla went on to tell her of her near suicide, and her decision to live, and her fight to redeem herself.   
“And after that, you are back serving with Starfleet?” Zh’riakrer asked.
“I don’t serve Starfleet, T’Aayla stated matter-of-factly.   I spit on Starfleet, and the bureaucratic cowards who run it.  I spit on the Federation and the evil politicians who run it.   I came back... as a personal favor to someone I owed a debt to, and I stayed because despite all of the bullshit, no matter what Empire you’re in, no matter what political system, or whoever is in charge- it’s the people, the common people who suffer.  I don’t serve the federation, or Starfleet- I serve the people who wake up and go to work everyday, who worry about their kids, who worry about the next Borg or Dominion invasion, who worry about the next political upheaval.” She gave a genuine snort of disdain and allowed her face to show her true Rihansuu emotions, not her usual calm demeanor.  She also noted the look on Zh’riakrer’s face.  She’d cracked, she was reconsidering her own options.   T’Aayla, calmed her own face, smiled and stated, “Ironic, that you, a prisoner, are the only person on this ship who I can talk to and who understands.” She let that sit.   After a moment, she sighed, “I have more goddamn reports to do, but.. I’ll try to visit tonight.”
“Yes… I think I’d like that, Zh’riakrer responded, as a very small tear slowly slid down and out of her left eye.  It wasn’t a tear for Jamie Marcus; she sympathized with her, but it wasn’t for Jamie- it was for herself.  What path did she have?  Could she make it back as Jamie had?  Was she to spend the rest of her life in a cell?  What were her options?   For the first time since her capture, she was thinking about what was best for her, not what was best for the Order.   
As T’Aayla walked through the corridors of the Resurrection toward the bridge, she silently mouthed the words “Thank you father,” as the image of her deceased mentor, benefactor and adoptive father, Ambassador and former Imperial Fleet Commander, Raillius gently hovered in her memory.    
High Chief Myaral Ra'yral
City of Ranogh
Warrior Rygaran D'Hronarin
Warlord Hworyal Andruvar
Palace of the Five Overkings, Carnor
Admiral Ian MacLeod
USS Fearless
Stardate 1911.17
An aide pressed the buzzer on Admiral MacLeod's door and entered when invited.  "Sir.  I received these through the Federation's liason with the Carnora.  They're... letters for you, apparently." He handed Admiral two leather scrolls--one  held in a roll by five bone rings and the other by metal rings, and two small, sealed clay containers.
"What's in the containers?" asked Admiral MacLeod.
"Plain water from Carnor, sir."
Admiral looked at the containers curiously, then removed the bone rings from their scroll, wondering who wrote physical letters these days. He unrolled the scroll on his desk.  The top of the scroll was taken up by a large design of half-circles, circles, something that looked like a circle on fire, pictograms, and fragments of the claw-like Carnora writing.  Beneath the diagram was more Carnora writing and another diagram, this time with stylized faces of Carnora, though he could see "Ian" "Conner" and "MacLeod" in the Federation Standard alphabet.  He scanned the scroll into his computer and was about to read the translation when he was paged. "Admiral," said one of the communications techs at Ops Base One, "We are getting a hail from a former operative on Carnor.  The credentials are legitimate--but they're old."
The Scotsman's brow furrowed.  A former operative on Carnor--but Ryramorl was on the Resurrection.  "Of course.  Rygaran D'Hronarin.  I'll talk to him," he said.  He left the scrolls on his desk, and went to talk to his erstwhile operative.
Rygaran had definitely aged in the past few years--his muzzle was slightly deformed on the left side and he was missing that tusk, but his eyes held a confidence and maturity that hadn't really been there when he was in the original Shadow Operations.  "Greetings, Admiral MacLeod," he said, his pronunciation even more distorted that Ryramorl's.  "Clearly, the Old Blade still holds its edge."
"Greetings, Rygaran," said MacLeod.  "It's been a long time."
"It has.  I am saddened, Admiral, that when you summoned Ryramorl, you did not summon me as well."  Rygaran's expression, though, was one of amusement.
"That's because one of you was enough to deal with," shot back Ian.
Rygaran made a pulsing growl that Ian knew as a Carnora's laugh. Then he grew serious.  "I'm contacting you because The Overkings have wish to add a secondary assignment to Ryramorl's deployment, and Warlord Hworyal Andruvar thinks I should be the go-between for the Carnora Special Forces and Shadow Operations," he said.
Ian frowned.  "What's this secondary assignment?"
"If Ryramorl finds any evidence of the Yova or Jirai Muran clans or the Ro'ana Olvern tribe, he is contact the Pentarchy as soon as possible.  If we find no information on them by the time the Sentinel reaches the House of the Great Tree, all three will be declared extinct.  All Carnora outside Pentarchy territories are being tasked with this.  It will not interfere with his assignment to you."  He sighed.  "You know that the Carnora fought the Jem'Hadar here in the Antevas system.  You have surely noticed--for you are wise--we do not boast of victories.  That is because what victories we had were small and few.  Many tribes and clans across all Carnora races were wiped out.  Amongst the Tribes of the Olvern alone, I know the Roshaigaro, Hayan, Yaryan, and Rano'ar Tribes were declared extinct and their members joined with the Ro'ar Tribes."
"Isn't Shor-Ghan from the Roshaigaro tribe?" asked Ian.
"He and five other survivors.  Shor-Talo and Sha-Tam are his cubs, Shor-Harlan and Sha-Nara are old, and Zhia-Zhiro is from another branch of the tribe.  Shor-Harlan, Sha-Nara, and Shor-Ghan asked the Spirit-Speakers to consult with the ghosts of the tribe leaders but the Spirit-Speakers told them there was no point--there were no living leaders, not enough members to conduct their rituals and nobody of the right rank to lead them, and no possibility of mating after Shor-Talo and Zhia-Zhiro.  The tribe was effectively dead."  Rygaran gave a growl, then said, "Admiral MacLeod, please don't mock:  the Jem'Hadar mauled the Carnora.  Had they not been called to Cardassia Prime near the end of the Dominion War, we may have been wiped out altogether."
"The Dominion and its allies mauled everyone," Ian responded.
"It's what made Shor-Ghan to start calling for the Carnora to unite into a great Empire instead being disparate tribes and clans, as we have been since the Great Teaching 500 years ago.  As we Olvern say, 'The Horgenhar gathers into a herd, and the hunters flee.  The Horghenhar scatter, and the hunters feast'.  Or as the Ataran say, 'sand is scattered by the breath of a word, but a sandstone boulder remains in a storm.'"
"At least you're not recalling Ryramorl to Carnor," Ian said. "What is going on in the Antevas System, anyways?"
"Eventful things, and Ryramorl will be furious he's missed them" said Rygaran, smiling.  "Omarenna, son of Overking Okaragarek, has been trying to encourage all undecided clans and tribes amongst the Muran and Ataran, as well as the Seawalkers and Usarin, to officially join the Pentarchy.   Just after Ryramorl left, a huge group of leaders, including the Usarin Shamanic Circle, the Seawalkers, Chiefs of Muran Clans we seldom see unless they're fighting us, and governors of the more distant Carnora colonies, demanded the three OverKings meet them at a gathering and convince them to join.  Shor-Ghan had a big speech prepared, but he started out by presenting a Jem'Hadar skull.  And all of a sudden, he didn't need such a big speech."
"The skull got their attention, did it?"
"The Olvern have a saying:  It is unwise to forget the songs you've heard, but truly stupid to forget the songs you've sung.  Not one tribe amongst them went unscathed, not even the Seawalkers.  I don't know how this will play out.  They do agree, though, that the Carnora can better defend themselves if they unite--or at least ally with each other, but the idea of one Overkling for each race doesn’t sit well.  The Sral, Kassa, and Jirek-Jai are Muran by blood, but not Muran by culture, the Great Ocean Atarans won't bow to Okaragarek or each other, and the Seawalkers don't even consider themselves Carnora; they're Yarrowans instead. The monsters we've dealt with in the swamp are basically a subrace of dwarfs."
"I'm surprised you're only finding that out now," said Ian.
"The Seawalkers are rarely seen at the best of times and those that have the most contact with them are still in the Stone Age, while the Yarrowan guarded their swamp pretty fiercely.  It made it hard to find out anything about them."
"Guarded?  They don't guard the swamps anymore?"
"I'll put it this way:  The Seawalkers will join the Carnora depending on how well we search the swamp for surviving Yarrowan. The searchers are using members of the Sral as trackers, as they know the swamp, and Silent Shamans to talk with the Yarrowan.  Last I heard, there's only one actual tribe left, and it's only got 800 members, and we've found a total of 50 others scattered here and there so far. "  He sighed.  "No wonder we hadn't seen them since the Dominion Wars.  Oh, one other thing.  President Gant's probably going to hear Ryramorl's back under your command.  You know how he feels about the Carnora, so he'll be roaring in your face fairly soon, especially since one of the OTHER conditions of the Undecideds was that Shor-Ghan retract his petition to join the Federation."
"President Gant doesn't like any of this," responded Ian.  "Was there anything more?"
"Only this:  It is good to speak to you again, Admiral.  I hope to do so again."
"Likewise.  I'd love to make small talk, but I've got some mail to go through.  I'm surprised the Carnora still use physical letters."
Rygaran chuckled.  "I'm shocked the Federation does not.  Your people are such... barbarians."  With that joking shot, he dropped the signal.
Admiral MacLeod shook his head at Rygaran's joke and returned to his office to read the translation of the scroll.  The writing in the diagram named various moons and constelations, while the large half-circle and firey circle was "The Prince Of Heaven" and "The King of Heaven" respectively.
"To the Warlord of the Sky Beyond the Skies Holder Of The Name Ian in the Conner Tribe of MacLeod, who commands my brother First Name of Ryramorl in the La'an Tribe of Ra'yral on this long hunt:  May your territory be secure and prey be before your cubs.  Greetings, and let us share water.
"Do not be surprised that I know of my brother is with you.  I was with him when he received your summons.
"When you can, please let him know that the Holder Of The Name Ryramorl in the La'an Tribe of Ra'yral has died.  Your hunt is long and far, and I do not know if he may return for the Rituals of Passing, nor if he is able to hold the name Ryramorl in the La'an Tribe of Ra'yral.  My tribe will remain in the city Ranogh until I receive your reply."
"Holder of the name Myaral in all the tribes of Ra'yral, High Chief of the Chiefs of the Ra'yral tribes"
The diagram looked like a family tree, and this "Holder of the Name Ryramorl" seemed to be the great-uncle of the Ryramorl Ian knew.
The second scroll was actually written in Federation Standard. Again was the strange diagram, though the circles were in slightly different places.
"To Vice Admiral Ian Conner MacLeod, Honoured son of Ewan MacLeod
"Greetings, and let us share water.
"Since you command one of my warriors and the stability of the Federation and its allies are a common interest, I have seen fit to assign a former operative, Warrior Rygaran of the D'Hronarin in the Mountains, as a liason.  Should you desire specialized equipment for Warrior First Name of Ryramorl in the La'an Tribe of Ra'yral, or Engineer-Shaman Reepchip of the House of Chara, Clan of Tet, contact him and he shall let us know."
"Also know that Warrior First Name of Ryramorl of the La'an Tribe of Ra'yral is a berserker, and can be commanded while in that state.  If you desire, we will send modified holodeck programs that will accustom him to his current commanding officers.  Tell us if you want those programs."
"When you contact us, present the rings binding the scrolls as proof of your identity."
"Warlord Hworyal of the Andruvar in the Mountains, Head of Carnora Special Forces"
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.21
Ryramorl was alternating between situps and pushups to work off his frustration, thinking of how close they’d come to having a multitude of witnesses--only to have none mere moments later.  He growled; he hadn’t had prey snatched from him like this in a long time.  Not since he had a zharin snatched by a Redwing when he was a cub...
The young Carnora drew his bow and fired.  The shot was true, and a zharin fell transfixed by the arrow.  He came from his hiding place and approached it, when a Redwing dropped seemingly from out of nowhere, seized the zharin, and took to the skies with Ryramorl’s prey, arrow and all.  He let out a roar of frustration.  He’d worked hard to make that arrow, he’d hunted all day--and this happened.  He would have to face his father in his failure.  He trudged back to the La’an camp, where his father awaited.  Ryramorl couldn’t look his father in the eye, but stared at the ground as he mumbled out what had happened.  Myaral called his other sons over, and told them it would be another night of preserved meat.  He then told them:  “Remember--we do our best, but the success of the Hunt is in the hands of the King of Heaven, who commands the beasts of the wild, and the Thousand Winds of Fate. Make more arrows, Third Name of Ryramorl, and hunt again tomorrow.”
Ryramorl rested as he heard the voice of his father--who had died fighting the Jem’Hadar so that the La’an tribe could flee to safety--remind him once again:  make more arrows, and hunt tomorrow.
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.21
Jahkar left Raillius to deal with the Andorian. He’d found himself uncomfortable with playing the part of the heavy looming over the prisoner to try and get her to talk. If the prisoner had been male, perhaps the Klingon/Romulan would have felt different, but strong-arming a woman wasn’t something he wanted to do.
Was that a sexist attitude? Jahkar didn’t know. He knew if you put a phaser in that woman’s hand, she’d kill him just as easily if she’d been a male. If she were an opponent, he would not have given her the luxury of “kid gloves” in dealing with her.
The colonel had found his current target in the med bay. He had sought out Lt. Thompson who had asked for him earlier when he was dealing with the prisoner. The computer had placed him in that location, presumably for some kind of medical attention. Jahkar hoped he was not injured.
When he walked into the med bay, Thompson was with one of the holo-nurses. So as not to intrude, Jahkar stayed back by the door and waited for Thompson to take notice of his presence.
Earth
Paris, France
Stardate 1911.21
President Aaron Gant strode into his office in the Federation Capital Building, overlooking the Champs de Mars with an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower. He was flanked by his chief of staff, a Betazoid named Kal Lapresh and Admiral Kathryn Janeway, head of Starfleet.
As they entered the room and the door sealed behind them, they each assumed their seats, with Gant seated behind his desk, and Lapresh and Janeway in the chairs across the desk from the president.
Gant tapped a button on his desktop keypad and opened a channel to Starfleet. “Put the admirals through.”
Three holograms materialized in the room, and the three turned to look at them. The holographic visitors were Admiral Sorvek, Admiral MacLeod and Admiral Zhao from Starfleet Intelligence.
“Gentlemen, sorry I’m late. I just got back from an awards ceremony on Vulcan. My ship no sooner reached orbit and I was summoned here for this meeting,” Gant said. “Welcome. I understand the three of you all wish to chime in on the transfer of General Krang to the Klingons?”
Zhao shot Sorvek and MacLeod a scowl, “These two seem to be under the impression the renegade Klingons who follow Krang and his son, Khemtok, are somehow involved in this Legion organization Shadow Ops has uncovered. They are asking for permission to handle the transfer.”
Gant looked to Zhao, “I take it, from your tone, you are not in favor of this suggestion?”
“This is a simple prisoner transfer,” the aged Chinese man said. “Shadow Operations is not necessary. It’s overkill. We could send any Starfleet ship with Starfleet Intelligence overseers onboard to supervise the transfer and be done with it.”
“Our interest is not only with the transfer of the criminal Krang, but with determining more about the renegades,” said Sorvek. “Our operatives believe the renegades are associated with Legion.”
Janeway raised an eyebrow, “You have proof of this, Admiral Sorvek?”
“No,” Sorvek said. “Our operatives have what you humans call a hunch. I am inclined to agree with them.”
Janeway nodded, “Well, I’m sure your operatives are conducting a solid investigation. However, I have to agree with Admiral Zhao. Shadow Operations might be overkill for a prisoner transfer.”
MacLeod cleared his throat, “General Krang isn’t your average war prisoner. He’s a cold-blooded murderer considered by his own people to be without honor. By all rights, Mr. President, we should not be turning him over to the Klingons. He should remain in Federation custody. He killed more than 15,000 innocent civilians – many of them women and children.”
“Enough,” Gant snapped at the Scot. “Krang was offered up to the Klingons years ago, under my predecessor, they’ve now accepted. End of argument. They want him back, we’re turning him over.”
MacLeod shook his head, “They intend to swap him for Martok’s kidnapped wife. Krang will be back leading his ‘Ghost Clan’ and they are hellbent on reducing the Klingon Empire to a state of feudalism. No government, no leadership. It sounds exactly like what we know of Legion’s goals for the entire quadrant.”
Gant stared at the admiral a moment and sighed, “Ian, I’m aware that your operatives are doing all they can to get to the bottom of this Legion matter. Sending them off to deliver Krang to the Klingons is a waste of resources. And need I remind you we have not been invited to assist in their internal problems with Krang’s group?”
Gant looked to Janeway, “You have a transfer plan already, don’t you admiral?”
Janeway seemed a little hesitant, as if she might be walking into some sort of underlying conflict she was previously unaware of.
“I do. We have a ship en route to Tantalus to retrieve him,” she said. “Admiral Zhao has assigned a team of his agents to act as escorts.”
Gant looked to the two Shadow Operations officers, “There. Kathryn has everything under control.”
MacLeod bit the inside of his lip, but managed a cordial smile, “Indeed she does, Mr. President. However, there is still the matter of our Commander Vree and her previous mission with Starfleet Intelligence that took her team against what we believe were some of Krang’s followers. This is where we think the connection is. Shadow Ops needs to be assigned to this so we can get to the bottom…”
“That’s enough, admiral,” Gant said, his tone become very dark. His usually friendly demeanor suddenly shifted and he glared at MacLeod, “I didn’t want your Shadow Operations reactivated. You and Sorvek here did an end run around me and brought it back. I’ve gone along with it so far because we need answers about the uprisings being experienced quadrant-wide.
“Your people thwarted a terrorist action on Andoria Prime, but have yet to bring in those behind the attack. Now you want to get involved in the transfer of a Klingon prisoner and intrude in a private Klingon matter because it MIGHT have some connection to this Legion you’ve uncovered?”
MacLeod nodded thoughtfully, “I’d say that pretty much covers it. “
“The answer is no,” Gant said. “Stay out of the Krang matter. Let Janeway and Zhao handle everything and you, you have your operatives continue their investigation of Legion. That is an order.”
MacLeod’s face morphed into an angry glare, but before he could speak Sorvek nodded, “As you wish, Mr. President. Thank you for your time. Live Long and Prosper.”
Both transmissions ended and the holograms of Sorvek and MacLeod dematerialized, leaving Gant, Janeway and Zhao to continue their meeting.
In his Ready Room aboard USS Fearless, MacLeod stood on the holographic communication pad and lowered his head. Behind him, Sorvek’s hologram materialized and he looked at the Scot. “I think you owe me…how do you say? Big time.”
MacLeod shook his head and turned to face his commanding officer. “I’m sorry, Sorvek, I just get so mad at that little shit…he’s the whole reason Shadow Ops is nothing but a mere fragment of what it once was.”
“I must admit, his decisions often leave me dumbfounded,” Sorvek admitted. “Sending us to Qo’noS makes the most sense. There are clear connections between Legion and Krang’s followers. The fact the Klingons and Legion are using weapons stolen from the same stockpile is reason enough.”
“Well, you heard him, he said to return to our investigation and leave Krang to Janeway and Zhao,” MacLeod muttered. “I have no problem with Janeway, but Zhao…he’s a pompous ass.”
Sorvek raised an eyebrow, “As I see it, the natural progression of this investigation is to follow up on the arms dealers and to pursue the leads linking Legion and the Klingon renegades,” Sorvek said. “Twenty years ago we would have sent a Shadow Ops outfit to each location.”
MacLeod smirked, “But now we only have one squad and we’ll be lucky if we still have that when this is over.”
“Yes, but the team could be divided temporarily,” Sorvek said.
“And there’s the fact the president of the United Federation of Planets just ordered us not to pursue the Klingon lead,” said MacLeod. “We don’t even know where Krang will be handed over or what ship is taking him there.”
Sorvek assumed a pensive look for a moment, then looked to his colleague. “I have a contact on the Tantalus penal colony. As you may know, when Krang was brought to justice and imprisoned, he was nearly dead following the Battle of K’harn. Starfleet Medical put him back together so he could stand trial. Part of his injuries included a damaged heart, which was replaced with an artificial prosthetic.
“Yesterday, when word came that Krang was to be turned over to the Klingons, my contact at the prison, who happens to work in the infirmary, took part in a minor procedure to check Krang’s artificial heart. As a favor to me, my contact there implanted Krang’s heart with a viridium microchip.”
MacLeod frowned, “Viridium? That’s old tech. Hell, stories of Kirk and McCoy’s imprisonment on Rura Penthe talk of Spock putting a viridium patch on Kirk’s uniform and tracking him from space.”
“Indeed. It is effective and not something anyone else will be looking for, especially with it being integrated as part of Krang’s artificial heart,” said Sorvek. “I want Resurrection at the scene of the prisoner transfer, phase cloaked and ready to follow the Klingons back into their space so we can keep track of Krang.”
MacLeod gave the Vulcan a knowing look as a plan came together. “I can send Resurrection to sweep the shared borders of the Klingon Empire and the Federation. That is likely where the exchange will be made. They should be able to detect the viridium signal within several sectors.”
“Have Vree and Lazarus select several members of the squad and have them left behind on Andoria Prime. We’ll arrange transportation for them to continue on and follow up on the two arms dealers,” said Sorvek. “We can send the mission ship that’s at Ops Base One.”
MacLeod grinned, “Actually, I have something else conspicuous in mind. Let me check with Captain Lazarus on a friend of his who might be able to help us.”
Sorvek nodded, “Very well. I will let you know when I hear something else.”
“Likewise,” MacLeod said. He then sighed, “And, thank you for saving me from putting my foot in my mouth with President Gant.”
“You are welcome,” said Sorvek. “We will speak again soon. Sorvek out.”
The hologram disappeared and MacLeod’s shoulders slumped. He’d nearly taken Gant’s head off during the transmission. He was becoming quite frustrated with the leader of the Federation. His decision to disband Shadow Ops several years earlier was bad enough, but he seemed to almost be blocking them at every turn.
The Scot shook his head, then activated the holo-transmitter again, opening a channel to the Resurrection…
Captain Lazarus finished speaking with MacLeod and contacted Vree, “Mayla, I need to speak with you in my office when you have a minute.”
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 4: Separate Ways ==
Commander Mayla Vree & Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1910.21
An alert sounded in her head as her internal AI persona notified her of someone accessing her and her father's records within Starfleet Command. It surprised her that it was Admiral Kathryn Janeway. Why was she looking in on their classified files? Mayla's thoughts ran back through her own review of her father's records and mission reports which revealed when the two had crossed paths over 10 years ago. Janeway had come to Bravo Squad with a mission in which they were uniquely qualified to perform. Before that, she hadn't even been aware of Shadow Operations existence until Bravo Squad had rescued one of her former Voyager crew members. Annika Hansen had been kidnapped from Starfleet Intelligence's anti-Borg division and a Shadow Ops team had been tasked to retrieve her. But they were compromised, and Bravo Squad was sent in to accomplish a search and rescue mission for both the other SO team and Annika Hansen.
But there was no reason why the head of Starfleet would be looking in on HER records.
"Mayla, I need to speak with you in my office when you have a minute." Lazarus' voice interrupted her thoughts over the subvocal.
"On my way," she responded quickly. She had just finished up going over Sh'avelith's perspective on the interrogation of their one and only Legion prisoner. It was slow going, but little by little, Raillius was earning her trust. Mayla had mentioned to the Romulan to be careful that her ruse to gain Zh’riakrer’s trust didn't backfire, and reminded her that the Legion knew more than anyone should about Phoenix Team and their newly reactivated organization.
Within a few minutes, Mayla walked into Lazarus' ready room who had each of Phoenix Team's profiles laid out on the wall screen. He was standing in front of them, studying each one. "Are we a go ahead on the multi-vectored mission?" she asked.
"No," Lazarus said, still studying the files on the screen and didn't look away. "And yes."
She'd heard that type of response before and knew what it meant. It meant they didn't have authorization, but they were going to do it anyway clandestinely. That also explained the reason he had all their profiles on the screen. She went to stand beside him. "Three teams?"
"Yes." he simply said. "The three teams you mentioned earlier. I'll be leaving a team of regulars down on Andoria to monitor the aftermath of the incident." Lazarus brought up a map of the Federation and its neighbors. "We've been ordered to investigate the two arms dealers; the cardassian Krido Rit, and the ferengi Gaish. And to stay away from the Krang prisoner exchange."
"That has to be Admiral Zhao's doing," Mayla murmured lightly.
"Actually, it was Admiral Janeway's idea." Lazarus said with an underlying tone of contempt. "Your name was mentioned in regards to your last S&D mission on Q'onos where you found a cell of Krang's followers. Even with that, they still didn't want us meddling in the prisoner transfer."
Janeway, Mayla thought to herself, that's why she was looking in on her records. Echo Team's search and destroy mission gave Mayla the best experience to investigate any links Krang had with his followers, and to the Legion. She shook her head. Kyril had a run in with Admiral Zhao once, and that was enough. Wherever Kyril was now, Zhao must be happy to have him out of his hair.
Lazarus noticed Mayla's eyes turn hard at that revelation. "Nevertheless, I need you on board the Resurrection to shadow Krang and his Starfleet Intelligence escorts to Q'onoS. We don't know where the transfer is going to take place. But we may have a viridium chip embedded into Krang's heart to scan for."
"I may be able to contact...someone within Starfleet Intelligence about that," Mayla said quietly, not absolutely sure the 'contact' would actually help her.
Lazarus looked at her and nodded. She'd been in Starfleet Intelligence for the past decade and with that comes a few, not many, clandestine contacts within the organization. For now, he'll leave it with her.
"How do you want to go about this?" Lazarus asked, gesturing to the two locations on opposite ends of Federation space.
Mayla nodded and started moving profiles around into teams. "I want Jahkar to stay with us on the Resurrection. Klingon help would be beneficial for us despite my own experience."
"I would agree with that. And I've worked with Jahkar before," Lazarus said as if going back in his memory. "I can trust him."
"We'll use the coaxial drive and jump to DS9, drop off Sh'avelith and Charatetet to investigate Krido Rit. Anyone who trades or deals with illegal product is bound to have visited DS9. Then we jump to the Kevis System and drop off Raillius and Ra'yral to look for the Ferengi Gaish. Hopefully by then we'll know where the prisoner transfer will happen."
A chime sounded on one of the other screens. Lazarus tapped it as a stream of data came through. "I hacked into the Tantalus Penal Colony's ship schedule and have a list of arriving and departing ships. Maybe one of them is our prisoner transport."
"I'll contact a colleague who may be able to give me some information on the escorts and what ship they're leaving on and when."
The data retrieved from the Tantalus computer hack showed two supply ships arriving in the next three days -- each a day apart. There was also the scheduled arrival of the USS Invincible a Nova-class starship commanded by Captain R'Rusar Delan, a Caitian male. The ship's orders had only been posted in the past eight hours and there was no reason listed for the visit. The logs indicated the vessel would arrive at Tantalus in 21 hours.
Lazarus passed the information over to Mayla and then handed her another data PADD. It contained information on a mercenary named Yevgeni Ibragimov, prompting Mayla to shoot the captain a questioning glance.
"He's been an asset of Starfleet Intelligence for years. I know, his record may cause a little apprehension. Former Maquis turned mercenary. But his record of aiding the Federation during the war is impeccable. He and I have worked together many times in the past, and I trust him without question. He'll get your operatives where you want them to go. I figure he can take one of the two teams out to search for the arms dealers. If you plan to send two, I've already sent for the mission vehicle parked at Ops Base. It will arrive at Andoria in 27 hours. Ibragimov is already on the surface of Andoria Prime, awaiting orders."
Mayla looked through the PADDs and sent the information into her internal memory. Ibragimov would be considered a more senior operative, which was something Mayla would like on the DS9 team. "Send him to go with Sh'avelith, Charatetet and Beckett to DS9. I want for now to keep Thompson close to the vest in case we need to deploy additional operatives." Mayla hated having to say that but having him stay on the Resurrection would give him some more time in the holodeck for training. In fact, until they get to where they were going, she and Jakhar would work on him to bring him back to full operational abilities.
Lazarus gave her a nod at the true reasoning of keeping Thompson on board. She said what she could, but he knew her, and her father, well enough there was more behind that reasoning. "In that case, I'll brief each team as to their mission and keep this compartmentalized for the time being. Dismissed."
Mayla gave him a nod and started for the door when he stopped her. "You're going to have to trust him eventually."
She didn't turn around, but responded all the same. "Of course, I trust him. He's the same Daryl Thompson who introduced me to the buffalo burger." She allowed a slight smile to grace her face at the memory when she had just turned 10 years old. "I don't trust what the Legion may have done to him without him knowing."
Lazarus smiled, “Agreed. Let me know when your people are ready to beam down. I’ll go along and make introductions with Ibragimov.”
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.23
Reepchip was literally crawling up the walls--not out of boredom, but because he was in the Holodeck, practicing his climbing skills.  The other exercise programs were similar to what he’d run into at Starfleet Academy--nothing for someone as small as a Muran, so he was practicing with an obstacle course from what appeared to be a Marine training sim.  Some of the obstacles required him to make strides he was physically incapable of, but the climbing portions were a breeze for someone who’d descended from an arboreal race.
While the entrance would say the holodeck was in use, the door wasn’t locked, so anyone could walk in on him.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.29
Sh’avelith found the holodeck in use upon her arrival and she stopped at the door and gave a faint pout. Orbiting her homeworld, but being unable to beam down for R&R was driving her insane. SHe could beam back at a moment’s notice if Resurrection deployed, but Lazarus had decreed no one was to beam down.  
The Andorian woman thought she’d try to get in a little downtime in the holodeck, but she had found it in use. One of the downfalls of serving aboard such a small ship was space was limited and Resurrection only boasted one holodeck. She considered turning around and walking away, but decided instead to see who was inside. Tiri checked the information displayed on the panel at the door and found Reepchip was inside -- and that he had not locked the door.  
Unless she was walking into some sort of bizarre Carnora ritual, she figured it couldn’t hurt to step inside and find out what he was doing...maybe even to give him some company. She opened the door and stepped inside to find herself standing in an open yard, outdoors, on what looked like Earth, and saw a series of tall obstacles around the open field.  
“Training course?” she whispered to herself. “Federation Marine, I’d say.” The Andorian looked around for Reepchip...  
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1911.29
“Greetings, Ensign Sh’avelith.”  The high-pitched voice and the weird pronunciation showed that Reepchip was indeed somewhere in the deck.  “And yes, it’s a Federation Marine training course.  Everything in the weight room program was too heavy for me.”  Reepchip then appeared at the top of one of the obstacles and dropped down, landing in a roll, before coming over to Tiri.  He wore little more than a pair of shorts for his exercise, which revealed just how lean the small creature was.
He decided to hazard a joke.  “I thought whispering was supposed to be quiet,” he said, flicking one of his long ears.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.01
Tiri watched Reepchip drop from the obstacle, land and roll into a crouch in front of her. He almost looked comical in the gym shorts he was wearing, obviously about the size a child might wear.
She smiled and looked around, “You have amazing hearing,” she had to admit. “So, I take it you’ve found Colonel Jahkar’s library of training sims? Are you fine running through marine training, or did you want to try something else? I happen to have a cache of Starfleet Intelligence training sims I was allowed to bring with me. The ones that aren’t classified.”
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.01
Reepchip admitted he was trying to keep up on his physical skills.  Though he was more technically-minded, he knew he would be of no use if he let his physical abilities go to waste.  And if he couldn’t work on his strength, he could work on his climbing abilities.  As he explained this, it became apparent to the Andorian that the holodeck was way warmer than it should have been.  When asked, Reepchip explained that he’d set it so high because he still felt chilled from being on Andoria.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection, Sickbay
Stardate 1912.01
Daryl woke from his slumber as he subconsciously noticed movement near him. He was sweaty. The holonurse was checking up on his readings on the console nearby. Daryl relaxed. He had dozed off, apparently, and in the following half-sleep state, he had had dreams. Or better, nightmares. Nightmares that were often a strange mix of events, passed and actual. Even though the dreams were different each time, they ended up with either the Borg, and Daryl witnessing his brother either being turned into a Borg, or as a Borg attacking or chasing Daryl. The other ending scenario was one of the bloody riots when Daryl was enslaved on that mining planet. The massacre that occurred there, and which he survived seemed to keep haunting him.
The nurse looked at him. "We are finished here. Analyzing the data might take a while, I'll let you know when it's done." Daryl sat right up, rubbed his temples to ease the tension, when he noticed Jahkar had entered the Sickbay, and was patiently waiting. Daryl moaned inwards. He had wanted to prevent someone seeing him like this. As their eyes crossed, Jahkar stepped towards Daryl. He studied Daryl for a brief moment.
"Are you ok, Lieutenant? " He addressed Daryl.
Daryl sighed, and decided it was of no use trying to hide what Jahkar had seen. " No. Not really. " He hesitated. "I still suffer from some kind of PTSD. And I think the nanites I had inside me messed with the implant I have to keep track of my emotions and hormones."
He looked at Jahkar, who just looked back, as if processing this new information…
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection/Sick Bay
Stardate 1912.01
Jahkar was completely taken aback when he digested this news. He had no idea Thompson was under such stress and suffered from PTSD. He had also never heard of an implant that would control emotions. This all came very much as a surprise.
“I didn’t see you there,” the holographic nurse muttered, turning to glare at Jahkar. “You are aware that Lt. Thompson’s medical treatment is confidential. Only his commanding officers have access to it. Starfleet and Marine regulations require you to remain quiet about what you’ve seen here since you rudely barged into the medical bay unannounced!”
Jahkar looked the holographic nurse and nodded, not allowing his annoyance with her to show. “Of course.”
He turned to Daryl, “I just wanted to see if you still needed to speak with me. Sorry I had to put you off earlier.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.01
Daryl swung his legs of the bed and sat right up. "No problem at all Colonel. I was wondering if I could make use of your holosims. I could use some extra training. The mission on Andoria made me realize I'm a little rusty.”
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.01
Jahkar smiled and gave a nod to Thompson, “Of course. My library of training exercises are available on the ship’s computer. You are welcome to use any of them.”
The Klingon/Romulan sat down beside Daryl and looked at him pensively. Finally, he spoke, “For what it's worth, I trust you and have full faith in you. This business with the Legion is not your doing and their attempt to recruit you was reckless and ill planned.” He leaned in closer and slapped a hand down on Daryl’s shoulder. “Don’t prove me wrong, lieutenant.”
Jahkar stood and turned toward the door, “Let me know if you need any help on those sims.”
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection, Medical Bay
Stardate 1912.01
Daryl was surprised by Jahkar's words. Jahkar and he never got along very well. Especially because Daryl had a short affair with his Jahkar's partner, Dara Ilia, back in the early days of Shadow Ops. Back in the days where Daryl was young, daring and impulsive.
“Thank you for your trust in me, Jahkar. This means a lot to me.”
Commander Mayla Vree & Lieutenant Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.01
She had changed directions from the planning session in the Captain's ready room to her quarters when she received a notification about Thompson's medical condition. Just as she turned a corner to sickbay, she saw Jakhar come out and walk down the other way.
Upon entering, sickbay automatically sent her Thompson's medical report. She found him and walked over to him. "So how are you feeling, Daryl?"
Daryl looked at Vree. "I don't know. " He wondered if he should tell about the nightmares. Then again, he had them while he was being checked up. So probably there would be some mention of it in the report. "These...nightmares keep coming back. Every time I fall asleep, they're right there. Always the same few. I don't sleep well, am tired because of that." He looked up at his CO and wondered if he did the right thing by telling her about it….
"The doctor can prescribe a sleep aid if you want, or you can try using a dopamine inducer," Mayla suggested, and was about to offer more suggestions when she realized that's not what he was talking about. He needed a way to come to terms to the part of his mind that continues to haunt and abuse his dreams. She leaned up against the side of his bed. "I think you do know why the dreams come. There's a part of your past that comes back, either by guilt, or some other reason." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you think you might have to confront them while you're awake rather than trying to fight or suppress them in your sleep?"
Daryl folded his arm across his chest and stared to some point on the floor, then back to Mayla. “I don’t  know where you are getting at, but you have my attention…”
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 5: Breaking Down Walls ==
Commander Mayla Vree & Lieutenant Daryl Thompson
Sickbay, USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.02
"I'm talking about some sort of reconciliation with whatever that haunts you. You can't continue to live like this." Mayla took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. "When Kyril first entered Shadow Ops, he had a team mate named K'guang Zhou. On one of their missions, Zhou was partially assimilated by the Borg. Bravo Squad rescued him and the doctors spent weeks restoring his physical body, and his mind. Soon after, Sorvek sent him on a deep undercover mission alone. His cover took him away from Shadow Ops and Starfleet for a long time. During that time, a resentment grew within him, fed by members of the Consortium. How it happened, whether it was a residual result of the partial assimilation, but they turned him. He trained and led an elite team of special operatives with the sole purpose of destroying Bravo Squad."
Daryl looked at her crestfallen face. "What does this have to do with me?"
Mayla looked up and pierced him in the eyes with her own. "He went insane after being fed lies and suspicions that benefitted the Consortium's plans to eradicate the Shadow Ops elite team. He believed the voices in his head that continued to taunt him that Starfleet, Shadow Operations, and Bravo Squad had abandoned him by putting him into a deep cover assignment."
Daryl pulled his gaze away from her's and stammered out the next question. "W-what happened to him?"
His trill commander put a hand on his forearm. "Jakhar ran a bat'leth through his chest."
The comment chilled Daryl to the bone. He was now fearful for himself and those around him. Could he go insane? Mayla gave in to the silence and waited for whatever thoughts that were running through his head to settle. He didn't pull his arm away from her hand, but she could still feel a slight trembling. It took some moments to gather his thoughts together. Once more he looked at Vree. He clenched his teeth.
“I would never betray Shadow Ops. Nor Starfleet. Never!” He almost hissed that last word. Anger flowed through him and he clenched his hands into a fist as he thought back of all the damage and death his evil twin had caused. “I know it’s irreversible what that clone has done. But I hope that, with my duty in Shadow Ops, I can at least make up for a little what that gruesome, evil thing has done. Even if it is only for myself, to indeed reconcile with that part of my past.” Daryl silenced for a few moments, looking for words. “Also, Someone thinking I would betray Shadow Ops, is not right in the head. It’s like I’ve found my family again. This is my place. You are my family. It’s all that I have at this moment” he looked away, fighting against the tears once more that burned in his eyes. 
Mayla gave him a soft smile at his conviction. "We won't abandon you. We all want to help you through this. Once the doctor clears you for duty, let's go to the holodeck and work through some training sims."
"What about our next mission?"
Now Mayla took her hand away. "It's still going to happen, but you are staying here with me."
Daryl sighed, looking at the wall “I find that difficult. But I understand. I know that Legion is using tech that might still be inside me, dormant, unnoticeable. I’ve seen the reports from Beckett, and I’ve seen glimpses in some of the labs when I was there. They might use it to set me up against you. Or try making me do things I would never do otherwise.“ Once more he looked straight at Mayla. “But they won’t succeed” his grimace was dark when he said that. And he was confident about it. “I am their weak spot. They just don’t know it yet.“
She gave him a confident smile. That bravado was exactly what she remembered of him when she was young. "You rest for now. I need to check my messages and when the doc discharges you, we'll do a sim. We'll start off light." She stood up. "I'll let the holo-AI determine the difficulty level."
Daryl scoffed. "The harder and better we get…"
Mayla nodded. "The harder and better the sim gets. One of the latest inventions from Jonathan Tran."
“This evolved from Bravo EpSeven's computer persona?" 
"Just one of the many things Tran came up with." She gave him a quick nod of dismissal. "Keep up that optimism. We'll see it through. See you soon."
Commander Mayla Vree
Her Quarters, USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.05
She stared at the simple message on her screen that conveyed anything but. It was from an old friend, someone she knew since childhood. And someone she would help in any way she could. Her thoughts went back to the few childhood friends she had until she went into the Academy. Most were children of the other team members of Bravo Squad. They tended to seek each other for support with shared losses and bouts of worry, loneliness, even depression. Mostly anxiety about the dangerous work their parents did for Starfleet. When Linsayla and Nilani died, she had the support of the few who knew her best, even more so than her Linea sibkos (genetic birth nursery group) who made up the covert operations teams Delta, Echo, and Sierra of Starfleet Intelligence. With Delta and Sierra Teams assigned elsewhere and, well, her former teammates in Echo Team just weren't genetically endowed with how to deal with emotions. Mayla alone was the unique one among her sibko.
But this message with the emblem of Starfleet Academy attached to it as its origin spoke volumes. She was trapped between loyalty to her friend and her duty to secrecy. Her hand poised over the key panel of her desk monitor. She knew she couldn't respond to him without careful thought. And she may have to tread carefully.
Making up her mind, she closed down her terminal and got up from her desk. She would go talk to his father first, and ask him how he wanted her to respond. And maybe she needed to respond with something delicate. After the death of his mother, she didn't know how his relationship with his father and younger sister was like. Mayla wasn't like Ky, she didn't keep abreast of events of every single person's life she worked with. Despite the five lifetimes of memories and experiences she had in her, she stopped short of the door and leaned her head against the bulkhead, dreading the meeting.
"Computer, locate Colonel Jakhar."
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.05
Jahkar was in his quarters reviewing some files on Jack Dark. Specifically, he wanted to know more about Dark’s nanotechnology. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of details. As he remembered, Dark was very protective of his tech. He had learned to use it and manipulate it in many ways and he was careful not to give up many of his secrets.
Frustrated after a couple hours, he set the PADDs  down and gave a deep sigh. Jack had refused to give Starfleet samples of this nanites, so there was no way to compare his tech with Legion’s. There were a couple of speculative reports sealed and classified at Starfleet Intelligence. The best the Marine could surmise was SI had secretly done some scans of Jack and had enough data to base some theories about his nanites.
Still, getting a hold of those files would be helpful. He sent off a message to Admiral MacLeod to see if he would get clearance for him to view the files. Once the message was off, Jahkar thought about a trip to the messhall when his door chime sounded.
“Enter!’ he called.
The door slid open to reveal Commander Vree.
Commander Mayla Vree & Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.11
"May I come in?" Mayla asked quietly. Jahkar saw in the youngster the same face he'd seen before on her. In fact, he also saw it once on her father's face. It was the face of indecision and conflict.
"Of course, Commander," Jahkar gestured her to a chair in his modest quarters. "What can I do for you?"
Mayla waited for the door to close before sitting down. "I'm here on a personal matter, Jahkar."
The larger man walked over to his desk and sat into his chair. "What's this about?"
She looked at him and frowned. "I just received a message from Tajel."
Jahkar looked at her with concern. Tajel was at Starfleet Academy. After several years of working on Cardassia aiding with the reconstruction efforts there, he’d decided to pursue a career in Starfleet and was 28, completing his final year at the academy.
“Is he OK?” Jahkar’s mind raced to possible scenarios -- a training accident was foremost on his mind, Tajel was training to be a pilot and was, according to their last conversation, was at the top of flight school.
"He looked and sounded fine. He past his practical midterm in his advanced vector piloting course." Mayla gave him a smile knowing how proud the father would be. "He practiced alot with his squad mates on that."
"With a little help from you, of course." Jahkar said with a light smirk, remembering she and her father were amongst Starfleet's best pilots.
Mayla held up two fingers a few millimeters apart. "Just a tiny bit."
"I know you didn't come down here to tell me Tajel past a test. What's going on?" His insides settled knowing that Tajel is safe.
Mayla paused as she worked up how she was going to convey what Tajel said in the message. "He asked me if I knew where you were at. And how should he go about telling you he was placed on academic probation for participating in a rally...for a non-occupied Cardassia."
She could see Jahkar's Klingon blood rising in pressure. "And also remember he is asking a friend for advice on how to break the news to his father without creating too many unsurpassable barriers even through time."
Jahkar nearly laughed out loud. That damn Vree wisdom he used to hear from her father resonated through those memories when he was still with Ilia. "And you think I should take a step back and calm down before calling him to give him a strip down?"
"Well, you actually don't 'know' about it yet. The fact that he wanted to tell you himself rather than the Academy's superintendent contacting you says alot of his character, wouldn't you agree?" She gave him her old sweet smile from a 10 year old girl.
"That's the first time I've seen you smile ever since the team was formed," Jahkar said, still fuming from the news about his son. "If I wasn't here, what would you have told him?"
She gave him a frown and crossed her legs. "I would tell him to start with the accomplishments he's had at the Academy and how he was proud to have come this far to graduate soon. And that he will always mind you and your advice regardless of the distance that separates you." She paused for just a moment before adding. "And to tell him to stay away from any other activities that may damage his Starfleet career before he even graduates...if he wants to continue to fight for a non-occupied Cardassia. He would do more good for the cause peacefully if he was IN Starfleet than a citizen."
"Oh, so you're plan was for him to butter me up before he lands the blow."
She shrugged lightly. "I haven't seen or talked to you in years. So I only get his perspective of you. And sometimes, that could be slightly colored. You know how all children complain about their parents, regardless of race, distance, or duty station."
Jahkar sighed, “I have a feeling I know how he ended up in this predicament. Has he told you much about his volunteer service on Cardassia Prime?”
Mayla shrugged, “Some. We communicated off and on while he was there. He took part in reconstruction efforts there, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Jahkar confirmed. “He was part of the United Relief Foundation, they helped with reconstruction and humanitarian relief after the Dominion decimated the Cardassian Union. He wanted to see if he could find out more about his Cardassian heritage.”
Jahkar paused a moment, displeasure obvious after he spoke of Cardassia. He then resumed, “While he was there, he met members of a movement that was calling for the end to Federation/Klingon/Romulan occupation of the former Cardassian Union. They befriended him and he got involved with some of their activities. I warned him to stay away from them, but he didn’t listen. Five years ago the United Relief Foundation revoked his documentation to remain on occupied Cardassia and he was sent home. They revoked it because of his involvement with the anti-occupation movement.
“Once he got back to Earth, I tried to convince him to join the Federation Marine Corps, but he had his own ideas. He wanted to join Starfleet...become a pilot. And to follow in his mother’s footsteps. It was better than nothing, so I supported his decision. But the freedoms one has at Starfleet Academy made it possible for Tajel to continue his correspondence with the movement on Cardassia.”
Mayla crossed her arms, “He could have done the same as a Marine.”
Jahkar shook his head, “The Corps is more restrictive about allowing trainees outside correspondence. There is also the principles and convictions instilled in young Marines. I think he would have stayed away from these Cardassians if he would have chosen the Marine Corps.”
“Really?” Mayla smiled and relaxed back into her chair. “OK, so you’re saying this is all Starfleet’s fault?”
Jahkar nodded, “Starfleet certainly didn’t help matters. Now this. He’ll start his career with a mark on his record for this.”
"We make all our own choices and mistakes in life." She gave him a tight lipped look. "Maybe he's doing what he feels is the right thing to do. Not everyone in Starfleet agrees with Federation policy. It's hard to fault a Federation citizen for exercising his right to believe what he wants to believe. Whether others think it's right or wrong, even if it's his own father."
Jahkar stayed silent for a few moments. Mayla couldn't tell if he was contemplating what she was telling him, or plotting how to give his son a marine level dressing down. She knew she had already violated Tajel's trust in her by talking to Jahkar first. But the young cadet didn't know they were actually stationed together. Tajel has always known her duty station prevented her from ever revealing her location or what she was doing.
"So, what should I tell my friend?"
Jahkar looked at her, “Tell him we’re working together again. He’ll understand. We can’t tell him where we are right now. As for his problem, he is welcome to contact me. I will not hold back telling him what I think, but I will be fair.”
Mayla nodded and stood up. This was the same Jahkar she's always known. The consummate father and marine. "Thank you, Jahkar. Don't be too hard on him. I'll reiterate to him the immediate importance of staying out of trouble until he is assigned a duty station after graduation. At least he'll have that to fall back on." She covered a smirk as she ducked his glare. "Just in case."
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.11
Ryramorl was in his quarters when he got a message from Ops Base One.  “Onscreen,” he rumbled. “Yes?” he asked the human who appeared onscreen.
“Ryramorl  We got a set of tablets from your homeworld from a Holder of the name Myaral in all the Tribes of Ra’yral.  We are unable to send the physical tablets to you right now, do you want us to send you the images?”
Ryramorl nodded.  “Please do. Myaral Ra’yral is my brother.”  When he received the scans, he quickly read the writing on them, and bowed his head.  “Are you able to send a replicator program for soot or ashes?” he asked.
The man on the other end looked puzzled.  “It should be possible to get a replicator to make some,” he said.
“Thank you.  Is there anything else?”
“Just a heads-up.  Admiral MacLeod will probably want to talk to you soon.  He got some letters from the Carnora as well.”
“Very well.”  The transmission ended and Ryramorl sat in his chair for a few moments, before rising and going to the replicator. “Wood soot.” he said calmly.
“Wood soot is not considered edible,” came the response.  “Do you want to override the protocols?”
“Yes.  Wood soot.”
A container of soot appeared, and Ryramorl took it, smearing two long black streaks down from his eye---the marking of Mourning.  He would show no further signs of it, though. The hunt was long and far, and the prey elusive. The markings would be ceremony enough for now.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection/Holodeck
Stardate 1912.11
While he waited for Tiri to choose a different program, Reepchip asked her, “How do you Andorians deal with the cold?  Even the Jirek-Jai would find that planet freezing!”
Tiri smiled. “I grew up here. We Andorians are acclimated to the cold. There was a time when my people lived on the surface. The underground was only settled 2000 years ago.”
She looked around at the holodeck program running around them. “Jahkar’s training sims? I have Starfleet Intelligence sims that would probably be better than these Marine simulations.”
“It was the best I could find.  What I would like to get is a sim for a weight room that accommodates my size,” Reepchip responded.
Tiri slightly wrinkled her nose and her eyes turned upward, as if in thought. “Hmmm. That’s not an easy request...I don’t have anything like that.”
She looked around and called out, “Computer, arch!”
The arch appeared nearby and Tiri went to it, accessing the computer there and calling up her files. She had a couple of gym simulations, but nothing on a small scale. She called one up and tapped some commands into the interface.
“Computer,” she said, finally, stepping back. “Run Gym-program Tiri-14. Add a section of Muran Carnora sized machines in addition to full-size equipment.”
The computer chirped and the gym appeared around them, complete with an area meeting the requirements of Reepchip. Tiri smiled at a successful attempt. 
“I’m going to the locker room to change,” she said. “I’ll join you when I’m done.” The Andorian then headed over to the locker room to change into her workout clothes.
Reepchip went about the workout area.  The computer must have scanned him, or taken physiological information from his medical database.  It looked like something out of an oversized dollhouse, with most of the weights measured in hecto- or even decigrams, rather than kilograms.  There was other equipment, shrunk down to his size. When Tiri returned, Reepchip was working on the chinup bar--but he was upside down and gripping it with his toes, a feat that amongst the Carnora, only the Muran could do.
Commander T’Aayla Raillius (Jamie T. Marcus)
USS Resurrection Brig
Stardate 1912.12
T’Aayla was making her “daily” visit to Sera’s (Zh’riaker’s) cell.  She’d slowly compressed the sleep cycles down to 12 hour days which messed with the prisoner’s biorhythms, accelerated the passage of time, and weakened the prisoner’s resolve.  She’d done it very gradually over time, making it extremely difficult to establish any biological time clock to tell actual time. She’d changed the guard’s duty times to match as well.    She was getting close. Either that, or the prisoner was playing her just for the hell of it, but T’Aayla had been in her position before- she was fairly certain she could tell the difference.   To date she’d been using the Prisoner’s assumed name of Sera, but lately she had detected micro facial expressions which seemed to signify some level of hostility, or at least regret at the mention of the name.   Part of her efforts had been to move Z away from being S, and start to feel all the emotions of her former self. She’d been able to relate based on their shared experiences of being betrayed by Starfleet.  
She immediately detected that something was different when she walked into the cell.  Usually Sera greeted her with a slight reactive smile that she quickly squashed to assume the role of tough prisoner.  Today she lay on her bed, facing the wall, not moving.
“Sera, are you awake?”   She repeated the question a bit louder, not getting any closer.   
“Go away.”  
“If you wish… do you not wish to continue our conversations?”
“What for.  What does it matter? “
“How so?”
“How so?  I’m never going to see the outside world again.  I’ll spend the rest of my life in a Federation cell.”  She remained immobile facing the wall.    
“You’ll be alive.”
Sera snorted, “Hardly.   I’m thinking I should take you up on your offer to shove me out the airlock.”    
T’Aayla was quiet.
Finally Sera rolled over, and immediately noticed the seriousness of T’Aayla’s eyes.   
“I wouldn’t do this for many other people….  But considering our shared paths …”
“Seriously?”
“Your choice.”
“Won’t they demote you or something?  Kick you out of Shadow Ops?”
T’Aayla turn to snort.  “Remember, I used to be a Captain,.. Commander, Lieutenant Commander… what does it really matter?”
“How.”
“That depends.  If you want to go easy, I’ll synthesize a neuro-toxin that will put you to sleep and then shut down your breathing.  You won’t feel any pain. That might get traced back to me however, and I might end up with that demotion. Or, you could simply attack me and I could break your neck.  It would be relatively quick, but it might hurt. On the other hand, it is much more defensible for me that getting caught assisting a prisoner to commit suicide.”
“Then, these … conversations aren’t monitored?”
“No, I disabled all surveillance months ago after I closed your official interrogation.”
Sera pondered the information.   She looked at T’Aayla and smiled.   “That’s good. I’m not sure I could put on an effective show attacking you at this point.”
“It might help if I had a few bruises,” T’Aayla said with a slight smile.   
Sera sat up.  The two made eye-contact for several minutes.   Finally Sera closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another, gathering herself, both her mind and her strength.   When they opened she gave T’Aayla a last smile. Then she launched herself at her.  
She moved quickly for a prisoner that had been under sleep deprivation and duress for several weeks, and she was well trained.  But so was T’Aayla, and she had much more real world combat experience, was well rested, and possessed Rihansuu strength. She allowed Sera to land several shots on her, nothing serious, but strikes that would leave marks.   After several seconds, she wedged past one of Sera’s strikes and moved behind her, encircling her neck in her arm, and kicked her leg out from behind forcing Sera to sit hard on her butt as she kneeled behind her, both arms now on her head and neck ready to snap it cleanly.   
She paused, her mouth next to Sera’s ear, intimate in their deadly embrace.
“Are you sure?   Just say yes,” she whispered.
Sera took several shuddering breaths and then the tenseness left her body.   “No, no,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaking. “No, I don’t want to die.”  Suddenly she started sobbing and shaking.”
T’Aayla didn’t move.  Either Sera had just the same psychological break Jamie had back on ch’Rihan, or she was setting T’Aayla up for a real attack.   She slowly moved her hands and arms into an embracing hug, but mentally prepared herself to react quickly if Sera even flinched.   Given her multiple points of contact with her body, Sera would have to be perfect to make a move. But Senator Raillius had told her over and over again to “Never underestimate your opponent.”   She remained on guard, however this time, her read on Sera’s body, emotional state, and energy seemed correct. Sera curled up in a near fetal position and remained nestled in T’Aayla’s arms. After some time, Sera attempted to get her breathing and emotions under control.  
“What, ...what can I do to not go to prison?   Or, or, at least not for forever?”
“I’m not sure Sera, I’ll do what I can to help.”
It was quiet for a while.  Finally Sera spoke, her voice snapping with emotion.  “It’s Lieutenant Zh’riaker,” she whispered. Immediately thereafter she went full fetal and her tears flowed freely.   T’Aayla held her, feeling the convulsive spasms as Zh’riaker’s body responded to it’s overwhelming emotion release. She maintained her alertness.  Either this girl was the greatest actress of all time, or she had started her path back.  
Sera
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.12
Lt. Zh’riaker collected herself. “I’m ready to talk.”
T’Aayla released her and she crawled, almost agonizingly slow, up from the floor to sit on her bed. She was shaking still, her body visibility exhausted as she situated herself on the bunk and took a deep breath.
“Legion is an organization of disavowed, abandoned and discarded intelligence officers and special forces operatives from across the Alpha Quadrant. All major governments are represented. The organization has been recruiting for years, building its ranks. At first the intent of the organization was to turn all of our knowledge and hatred toward hurting each of our respective governments. But new leadership came into the fold about eight years ago. 
“He calls himself Archangel. Very few in the organization know his true identity. He joined Legion several months after the attack on the Kazis Summit and brought it back from the brink of falling apart.
“He obtained weapons, equipment and funding for us through former intelligence channels. Especially after the collapse of Section 31, he was able to tap us into many of their secret accounts and caches of weapons and equipment. He is also rumored to be behind some of the tech we’ve acquired. The nanites, the disguise-devices. Someone in the organization once described him as being a genius when it comes to nanotechnology. There was even talk that he was working on some kind of nanite-based weapon. But I don’t know any details. He keeps a close counsel of 2-3 Seraphim and no one else,” she explained. “Since Archangel arrived, our mission changed, from random acts of violence against the powers of the Alpha Quadrant, to a plan to overthrow all of the major governments.”
Raillius raised an eyebrow, “Anarchy?”
“Essentially. Archangel said the reason we were all betrayed by our governments, the reasons for wars and constant fighting was the obsession with power the governments have. He said we’d all lost people we cared about because of politics,” Sera said further. “His plan, our plan has been to destabilize these governments with the ultimate plan of bringing them all crashing down. Once that happened, Archangel said we could live free and build new lives for ourselves.”
Sera slowly shook her head, “Before you ask, no, I don’t know who he is. When I’ve seen him he has been cast in shadow. I suspect he’s human and he may hold some position of power. He seems to operate both in and out of the shadows.”
The Andorian looked up at Raillius with a somber expression, “My cell operated on Andoria. I know of a couple of supply bases, but I don’t know of any other Legion sites. There is a main gathering point, but I’m not sure where it is. I’ve been to three rallies in eight years and each time I was kept in the dark as to where I was taken. From what I observed inside, their headquarters appears to be a space station somewhere. I’d say from what I observed of the internal construction of this station it may have once been a civilian Federation facility.
“The Andorian mission was my only assignment in three years. Prior to that I was involved in the riots on Pentar VI. I helped on several supply runs to rebels in the Romulan Empire and I was an adviser to a group of Cardassian insurgents who were fighting against the Post-Dominion occupation.”
Sera sighed, “What else can I help you with, commander?”
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 6: Spying on the Spies ==
Commander Mayla Vree and Lieutenant Daryl Thompson
Holodeck, USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.13
Mayla wasn't surprised to hear from Daryl as soon as she received a notification that he was discharged from sickbay. He was passionate about being in the team again, and it brought him back to a time when he wasn't so troubled. She just hoped she'll treat him better than Ky treated Daryl's evil clone.
After donning her own combat gear, she found him waiting for her in the holodeck, decked out in standard SO gear she could tell he was still adjusting to. He fidgeted here and there as if nervous to get back to his own old memories of Bravo Squad's brutal training sims. She gave him a nod in greeting, and a bit of respect to want to get on with healing and be a productive member of the team.
She gave him an SO gesture to indicate they were switching to subvocal communications. "We'll start off easy. One revolution on the obstacle course. It's not timed, nor dynamic. Just get into a pace you can maintain for the duration. I'll keep pace with you and we'll see how you do after the first revolution." Mayla cinched the strap on her katanas and TR390 subrifle and did a little bit of stretching to warm up her muscles. Daryl did the same until she was done.
"Ready when you are," he said without hesitation and with great determination.
"Computer, run program Vree Level 1 Alpha Obstacle course." 
The holodeck gave them an arid jungle setting, which included a desert ground but in a jungle setting. The ground had lit markers to guide them through the obstacle course. They could see that the lights also went up into the trees and cliffs, and over water. Daryl instantly recognized it. It was one of the first sims he went through when he first joined Bravo Epsilon Seven with Kyril Vree.
She then gave him a knowing nod when he recognized it. "Yes, it's one of my father's. Old, but still very appropriate. We can talk while we work out. After you." She gestured for him to lead.
They set off on a run but settled into a pace where they can talk and go through the obstacles at the same time. 
The ran for about 5 kilometers in a steady pace, each to their own, with only a few hills and slopes, when the first obstacle appeared in front of them: A large cliff, covered with thick vines rose above them. It was a steep cliff, with a slightly overhang towards the top. Difficult, but doable. Daryl slowed down, and wiped off the sweat of his forehead,  Mayla didn’t seem to have that problem. 
“Already tired, Lieutenant?” Mayla teased.
“Hey, I’m not that rusty, Commander” Daryl grinned, as he put on his climbing gloves, and started climbing. Mayla followed swiftly. 
“So, how are you feeling now, Lieutenant ?” Mayla asked once they were a few meters above the ground. 
“At this moment, not too bad, Commander. The chip indeed had some misconfigurations, most probably caused by the nanites. It wasn’t damaged. It has been analysed and thoroughly scanned to see if there might be derelict code in it, or hardware failure due to the nanites, but it all seemed clean. Once it was functioning properly, and triggering the right doses, I felt better already. Guess I just need more time to cope with everything that has happened. So I’m extra determined to keep up and in shape. “ Then he grinned again, as he pulled up and placed his hand above him, searching for support. 
“That is good to hear” Mayla responded while she kept up with ease beside Thompson. “But, would you mind telling me what exactly is bothering you ? “ she continued. Daryl looked at her shortly, a dark expression glanced over his face. “You were talking about these nightmares. Could you tell me more about them ?” 
“I guess I could…” Daryl’s voice hardened a little, as a flash of images of his brother shot through his thoughts. 
“You mentioned that one of the recurring nightmares was about your brother, Julian?” Mayla continued. 
Daryl just nodded while he pressed his lips together to pull himself up before he answered. “Yeah, indeed.” he took a deep breath before he started…” In my nightmares, he is a Borg, and most of the time, I’m running through long, dark corridors. I guess I’m inside a Borg cube or station, as they are everywhere. He chases me. I am always able to keep the other Borg drones away from me, but he appears around every corner, behind every door. I always feel panicked coming up at the end of the nightmare, right before he...extends his tubules and injects me with nanites. At that moment I awake. Sometimes I am screaming his name...at least, that is what Darva told me on more than one occasion…” 
Mayla just nodded as she took in the information about Daryl’s dreams. She had read about it in his profile, but hearing it from someone directly was always better. Also, it might work as therapy for Daryl, just talking about it. 
“Tell me more about your brother Daryl” Mayla asked him, while she swiftly moved her hands over a small ledge, sought stability and pulled herself up so she could grab the next rock with her hand. 
Daryl was silent for a few moments. He realized he actually had to dig up the times with his brother, over 20 years ago. It felt like ages to find his memories... It dawned on him that, all that time, he never really had taken the time to think about his past with his brother, nor had he been mourning. He had been absorbed by that only fact: Julian’s death at the battle of Wolf 359. He had become obsessed by it. He had counselling in the past, but for some reason they were never able to make him realize what he just had realized…
It was a strange revelation to have, here, in the holodeck, hanging on some cliff from some planet, in that same simulation that he had ran literally a thousand times during the training days of Shadow Ops, and later, in Bravo Squad under Kyril’s authority.
Mayla’s voice snapped him back to reality “Daryl ? Are you ok?” 
He looked at his CO, and then besides her and slowly nodded “Yeah...I think so….” Then he remembered something about herself that they physically had in common. "Did I hear during the first mission briefing that you had nanites in your body?"
He couldn't see her nod, but she responded in kind. "I do. Upgraded ones from those Kyril had in him. Genetic camouflage and biosign mimicking. One of the last things he did for me before he was transferred out of Shadow Ops."
Pulling himself up onto the bluff, he noticed a tonal change in her voice. "When was that?"
"Nearly 10 years ago. It was also the last time I saw him."
That made him stop in his tracks. Mayla had gone a few meters ahead and stopped when he didn't answer. "Mayla, you and Kyril were extremely close. You haven't seen him in a decade? Have you at least talked with him?" He could see her shoulders slouch as she turned to face him nearly 10 meters away. But even so, he could see the sullen look on her face.
"Admiral Sorvek promoted him to rear admiral and transferred him out just prior to the dissolution of Shadow Operations. I don't know where he is. I received one message from him a few years ago, but other than him asking about me and Tylin, I haven't heard from him at all."
Daryl suddenly felt sorry for the little girl she once was. From what he's read during his research into his former Bravo Squad team mates, Linsayla and Nilani died in a passenger transport accident, leaving her alone with no one except for her brother Tylin and Ky. And now that Ky's gone off somewhere, she doesn't have any immediate family near.
"I haven't been able to find out anything about any of the team members either." He said as he walked up to her. She turned and waited for him to lead, which he did for a few minutes before returning to the nanite question. "I"m assuming the nanite injections weren't exactly sanctioned by Starfleet?"
Mayla shook her head. "Black market."
He stopped in his tracks again. "You're kidding."
"Starfleet would never allow it. So it's supposedly a secret that doesn't exist and no record of it anywhere." She gestured him to continue with the course.
"Did you ever have any problems with the nanites functioning in your system?"
"Not that I'm aware of. By the time I did the merging procedure, the tech had already evolved to nearly mainstream." She winced at using that phrasing. "Mainstream in the black market, that is."
"Mainstream on the black market? Where is this black market at?" He asked, now curious. If nanite tech was mainstream on the black market and the Federation banned certain applications of it, they would be at a disadvantage in the field.
"Not, around here." She answered cryptically. "Not anywhere near here." Then she switched the subject back to him just as they approached a steep grade that was lined with tall trees with a single rope strung between them. They would have to climb down using the rope. "Have your nanites malfunctioned at all?"
Daryl pulled at the rope to see if it was tight and stable enough. "I can't say. Only thing I know is that it did hurt like hell when they injected them. It felt like my skull would explode." He noticed her nodding her head, indicating she must have gone through the same thing. "But I guess that was more the nanites building the device than the nanites itself. And as far as I know, right now I don't have any nanites inside of me. The chip I have inside is one that monitors the quantum fields of my brain. The quantum fields' shapes and frequencies together form the different kind of EM frequencies we can simply measure, but which are actually a kind of residual in this spatial realm. I don't know the exact science behind it, but it's along these lines. Anyway, no nanites at work there. " He grabbed the rope with both hands, pulled himself up and swung his legs around the rope and swiftly Daryl started descending between the trees. "But it certainly does sound intriguing to have nanites to modify or enhance body functions, or even introduce new functions…It would give the team quite an advantage." 
"I don't think Sorvek or MacLeod would allow us to do it organization wide." Mayla stated. "I was an...exception."
"They don't need to know…" she heard Daryl reply. "With Beckett, Reepchip and that bunch of crazy engineers we have enough know-how to do it. What we don't know we could reverse engineer from your nanites. I see a lot of possibilities…" Daryl continued. 
Mayla sighed. "For now, the answer is a clear no, Lieutenant." 
For a short while, it was silent. As Daryl was almost at the end of the rope, he loosened his legs and let go of the rope, landing on the ground almost unhearable, continued by a shoulder roll As he got up and checked his surroundings, he saw something, about ten to fifteen meters away from him. It was a short glimpse of a humanoid figure. He quickly drew his phaser rifle and fell back on one knee. He made a quick SO hand gesture towards Mayla. Over the subvoc he heard her voice.
"Daryl what is it?" She asked, fell into a crouch and instantly drew her rifle in the same motion.
Daryl kept looking at the spot while he slowly got up and moved closer.to where he had seen the movement. "I saw something moving," he replied.
"Daryl, this sim doesn't have any combat elements. It's just you and me…" Mayla started. 
Daryl heard her voice, faded, as if she was far away...he  stared to the spot, as he slowly approached it. Sweat dripped from his face on his uniform. Was it that moist? His mouth and throat where dry. He swallowed. Slowly and carefully he pulled aside the large leaves and stepped further. He heard something and pointed his phaser towards the sound. Then he saw movement again. Again, a glimpse in the corner of his eye. As he looked, it was gone. There was that sound again. He felt his heartbeat in his chest….it was so hot. He was breathing fast. More movement in the distance. More sounds close by. He couldn't make anything of the sound..it was...metallic, he lacked the words to describe it. Then he heard more sounds...as voices where mumbling ... He pointed his phaser towards it. Slowly, he continued to where he saw the movement..the sounds where now around him. He noticed he had moved into the jungle. While moving forward, he turned around to see if anyone or anything was closeby. Nothing. He heard a voice over the subvoc. It called him.. 
"Ssshhhhh…." He replied. "They're here…."
Mayla crept into a covering position to one side of Daryl and mentally accessed the holodeck programming to verify there were no combat elements in the program's parameters. She then accessed the holodeck's biomonitoring data and saw the difference in Daryl's bio readings from just moments ago. A quick comparison told her something was happening inside his head. She was about to end the holodeck program, but decided that it may cause more harm than good. She overlaid the readings onto her optic contact lenses and ordered the computer to extrapolate what Daryl might be reacting to.
"What do you see?" She asked quietly over the subvoc. "I've got you covered."
Daryl gazed between the trees. he heard that voice again. It asked what he saw. He decided.to ignore it, for now. Movement, there where he just had looked. It seemed always happening out of his focus. He jumped forward and in a crouching position he moved through the bushes, carefully to not make any sound. When he was close to the spot he slowed down, carefully checking his surroundings. As he checked the spot, there was nothing…. There! Now he saw dark figures moving away in the shadows. Quickly, he dashed after them. The voice, it told him to stop....
Then, suddenly, he did stop…there were more movements in the bushes beside him. More sounds. The mumbling. It sounded eerily familiar....It came closer…then, on his right, a tall figure rose behind the brushes.. Daryl yelped.and tried to move away, staggering backwards. Now more figures rose out of the shadows. All humanoid...all ...Borg...they slowly came closer, having Daryl surrounded…
Daryl swallowed, trying to keep his fear under control….he raised the energy level on his phaser rifle, aimed on the closest Borg, and fired….
Mayla saw the look on Daryl's face, and his eyes, when he put the bead on her with his phaser rifle. She leaped aside with nearly inhuman speeds, ducking behind a tree just as the phaser discharged into a holographic tree. He looked right at her, but still pulled the trigger. At that moment she couldn't tell if a Legion kill switch was activated in his head, or he was having visions. His medical records did indicate the nightmares, but no visions.
She had to keep moving. She thumbed her rifle to switch rounds to a proximity stun round. She didn't need to be accurate with it, just to be sure the round impacted within the 5 meter vicinity for it to be effective. She moved away from another tree as she could hear his foot falls angling towards her direction. 
"Lieutenant Daryl Thompson, stand down," she said forcefully over the subvocal. Another phaser discharged further to her left, giving her her answer. He was still ranging on her. She took advantage of it and moved quickly through the vines and trees of the jungle, flitting through the jungle growth easily. Her lithe figure navigated the plant growth like a native animal who lived in the environment.
She crouched low and kept her senses attenuated to her surroundings. Mentally, she accessed her AI persona to extrapolate from whatever records they had on Julian Thompson and enter him as a character persona into the holodeck program. This should give her proof of his intentions, and his current condition, one way or another.
"Activate Julian Thompson persona", she mentally gave the command to the computer. "Simulate transporter beam as entry."
Off to her right, through the vines and bushes, a figure materialized as if in a transporter beam.
Daryl pinched his eyes, to get rid of the sweat, which was dripping through his eyebrow and blurring his sight partially. He felt the sweat on his back, on his chest, he felt the hot air in his lungs. The Borg he hit just vanished in thin air. But it seemed one had escaped in the bushes. He had never seen a Borg move so fast...they were evolving! The Borg that were surrounding him had, strangely, stopped in their movement, as if suspended. They just gazed into the distance as it appeared, but didn’t move. Daryl threaded backwards slowly, through the largest opening between two of them. Then, on the other side, he saw a column of light, and another figure materialized. Daryl hid behind a few bushes, his rifle ready. The figure slowly stepped forward. Daryl frowned as he recognized the movements of the figure.
“Daryl?” he heard a familiar voice calling his name. This couldn’t be. Daryl stood up, lowering his rifle. He just stood there. The Borg were gone, and his long gone brother, Julian, walked towards him. 
Daryl just stood there. Tears welled up in his eyes, rolling down his face. “Julian…” he softly said. He dropped his rifle, grabbed his brother and hugged him tight. Then he blacked out. 
As Daryl woke up, he was in the medbay. He tried to move his arms, but he was restrained. He felt a little numb. His throat was dry, he felt thirsty and he had a crushing headache. They probably had him sedated. 
“How are you feeling Lieutenant ?” He heard Mayla’s voice. A tube was placed near his lips and he drank a few sips of water before responding.
“Could be better,” he replied. “What happened? Why am I here?“ Daryl asked her. 
“I was about to ask you the same,” Mayla stated. 
Daryl tried hard to remember what happened. He remembered being in the holodeck with Mayla and that he saw movement. He also remembered grabbing his phaser and looking for what had caused the movement, but not more. It ended there.
“Did I pass out ? Was there a surprise attack? Was I ambushed?” Daryl asked her. He just couldn’t remember. He tried very hard, but he just couldn’t remember anything. 
“Eventually, you passed out, yes,“ Mayla said. After you thought you saw something and started firing at me.” she said. "I had to quickly decide what to do, but a brief meeting with a holographic version of Julian stopped you."
Daryl looked horrified at her. “I...shot at you ?” He exhaled deeply and slow, processing the information. This was bad, very bad. 
“Daryl, I hate to say this, but you are unfit for any field duty for now until we find out what is going on with you." Mayla said without any hesitation. "Lazarus wants you confined to your quarters, but I talked him into allowing you to continue some duties aboard ship with the ship's computer constantly monitoring your bio-readings and…have a security officer with you at all times. You are not allowed to carry any weapons, and you can use the holodeck only if it's with me." She could see how the orders was affecting him. "I want you to take some rest and work along with the doctors and the nurses. I am sorry, we can’t trust you in the field until they clear you for active field duty. At least for our next mission, you and I shouldn't have any field duty. So for now, you rest. And then when you feel better, we can go and review the holodeck recording so you can see what happened. Can you do that for me?” 
Daryl just nodded. He couldn't blame them for restricting his duties. He did, after all, just tried to kill his commanding officer.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.15
Tiri emerged from the locker room dressed in a black sports bra and matching athletic pants. The Andorian came out and began to stretch while scanning the holographic gym for Reepchip. The Muran was busy using his miniaturized weight machines. 
She smiled. Not only was it pleasing to see that he had equipment he could work with, but she found it very cute that his was using the weights. She would never tell him, or anyone else, but he looked adorable as he worked out, his little body being pushed to its limits on the diminutive equipment.
Tiri headed over to a treadmill, hopped on and began her cardio routine. “How’s that working out for you, Reepchip?” she called over to the Carnora.
“It’s an improvement,” he responded.  “I wonder if our Commanding Officers would allow me to get the layout of an actual Muran Exercise room and make a holosim from that,” he said, sitting up and panting.  It seemed that he did not sweat.  He was grateful for the attempt at making machines small enough for him, so he did not want to say that while they were around the right size, they weren’t the right proportions for a Muran’s long limbs--or that most of this was meant for strength and not for agility.  
He glanced up and saw an all-too-familiar look in his eyes--the look when someone saw him as just a cute little critter--something that by now annoyed him to no end, especially after Starfleet Academy.  “Is there somewhere in this sim where I can get something to eat?” he asked.  When she pointed out the in-holodeck replicator, he chittered at it a few times.  What appeared was raw, bloody meat in a bowl, which he proceeded to slowly tear from the bone with his bared teeth, his dark eyes staring straight into Tiri’s as the blood stained the fur under his chin and on his paws.  It was as if he was silently daring her to find him adorable now.
Tiri continued on her run, trying not to watch Reepchip eat. Apparently it was customary for his kind to eat while exercising? Must be the protein.
After her cardio she skipped over weights and moved on to the bags. She took the time to practice punching and kicking, after a while losing track of what the Muran was doing. It was just nice to have a workout partner, even if they really couldn’t really work out together.
Reepchip licked his paws clean.  When he saw Tiri beginning to practice punching and kicking, an idea formed in his mind--he offered to spar with her.  He wasn’t sure if Tiri would go for it, or if she’d be concerned about his tiny size making him frail.
“Spar?” the young Andorian woman asked, pausing from her blows to the bag.  She looked Reepchip over and reminded herself that though he looked small, Carnora weren’t known to be pushovers in a fight...even the little ones. “Sure.”
She wiped her brow with a towel and walked over to the open area of the gym where she stepped onto the mats and began to limber up in anticipation of the sparring match.
Reepchip also limbered up, then got into a fighting stance, seemingly grinning--or perhaps he was baring his teeth.  When the two started sparring, Tiri would soon learn that the Muran method of melee combat was largely based on not getting hit at all, instead feinting and dodging with a speed and agility that only the Muran had.  “Are all Andorians this slow?” he snapped as he aimed a tailstrike at Tiri’s side.
Tiri took the blow to her side and grunted, lashing back with a roundhouse kick that missed entirely as the Muran dodged her efficiently. She took a step back, remaining in a defensive stance, and watched Reepchip carefully, trying to anticipate his next move. 
She’d never faced an opponent with such a unique fighting style. It would make countering him difficult, to say the least. And to counter his attacks, she had to see them coming, which was hard given his speed. 
“Do all Murans talk this much shit?” she asked with a grin.
Reepchip’s response--which was in his own language--was too rapid to make sense of, and some of it the Universal Translator couldn’t translate, but it didn’t sound pleasant.  Whatever it was, it was clear something had irritated him.  He kept feinting and dodging, circling with her rapidly.  He came in with a feinted blow at her abdomen--but looped his tail around her ankles to try and trip her.  His strategy was simple--he knew Andorian physiology from Starfleet Academy, and thus he knew about the exoskeleton and their lessened endurance--so he would simply feint, dodge, and harrass until she tired--and then he’d come in for the attack.
Colonel Jahkar 
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.18
Jahkar was composing a message to Tajel when he was notified in his quarters of an incoming transmission. It was a personal call for him. He moved in front of the monitor on his desk and sat down before pressing the keypad. 
When the transmission came through, he saw the face of his mother materialize on the screen. He smiled and leaned in toward the monitor. “Mother,” he said. “This is a surprise, I don’t think you’ve contacted me in some time.”
He noticed his mother, K’nara, was not smiling and she did not appear to be happy at all. Her brow was furrowed, and her face was a mask of what Jahkar recognized as anger, sadness and possibly some fear – something he had seldomly seen from her. 
“There has been an attack on Qo’noS,” she stated. “Followers of Krang have attacked the capital and some members of the High Council have been killed.”
Jahkar raised a curious eyebrow, “A direct attack on the High Council?”
She nodded, “Yes, photon torpedo attack from a ship in orbit. Somehow they took down the defense grid before beaming down an assault team to the High Council chambers. The photon attack occurred after the team beamed out.”
“The chancellor?” he asked.
“Alive,” she said. “There’s a rumor in the capital that his wife was taken hostage by Krang’s followers. I don’t know much more than that.”
Jahkar nodded, “Are you all right?”
“I am well,” she said, but Jahkar detected something in her voice that told him there was more.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said.
“It is…Kelmar…my mate,” she growled. “He was killed in the attack. He was working at the power plant when they hit it with a torpedo.”
Jahkar had only met Kelmar once. His mother had met him and the two married about 15 years earlier. She had suffered for a long time on Qo’noS, labeled a traitor and a Romulan-lover by many Klingons who resented her for having given birth to a half-Romulan child. 
Some Klingons did not care that she had not willingly been impregnated at the Melkeron Prison on Romulus. His father had forced himself on his mother. Most Klingons had thought she would have been better off dead than allowing herself to be captured and forced into sex with a Romulan – and certainly should not have allowed herself to give birth to a bastard half-breed. 
But Kelmar had been different. He lived in the same arcology as she did and the two had fallen in love. Jahkar was happy for her, for she’d found someone who loved her despite her past. Jahkar seldomly visited Qo’noS, finding it better to leave K’nara alone so she could avoid too many people knowing about his ancestry. 
“I am sorry to hear that, mother,” Jahkar told her. 
“He died with honor, at his workstation, attempting to get the planetary shield reactivated,” she said. “He will be welcomed in Sto-Vo-Kor.”
Jahkar nodded. “Perhaps you should leave the capital for now. My house on Bajor is available. You could stay there until this business with Krang’s followers is over.”
K’nara shook her head, “I will be fine. I just wanted you to know.”
“Do you need me to come there?” he asked. “I can request leave.”
“No, son,” she said. “Unnecessary. Just let me know if you hear anything in those circles you operate in.”
She had some idea what kind of work Jahkar did, just not exactly what it was. He couldn’t say much and if he heard anything, it was unlikely he could share it with her. But he acknowledged her request. “Take care mother, I will contact you soon.”
“Qapla!” she responded.
“Qapla!” he said. The transmission then ended. He reached up to his chest and tapped his comm-badge. “Jahkar to Vree. Do you have a minute?”
Commander Mayla Vree & Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.19
Mayla had just entered the armory after her visit with Thompson in the infirmary when Jahkar's call came. She didn't expect any call from him this soon. She had just sent a response to Tajel right before her sim with Thompson.
"You can meet me in the armory," she said, opening her locker.
"I'll be right there."
She removed and checked her rifle before storing it, and began to strip off her gear. In a few minutes, Jahkar walked in.
Jahkar arrived in the armory a few minutes later to find the Trill commander packing away the last pieces of her gear. Once the door slid shut behind him, he stood with his hands clasp behind his back.
“I just spoke with my mother on Qo’noS,” he said, his voice very business-like. “There has been an attack on the capital. Followers of General Krang, the same band I believe you and your colleagues were in pursuit of before our mission to Andoria, somehow shutdown the planet’s security grid, launched a photon torpedo attack on the Klingon High Council and other important targets, then abducted Chancellor Martok’s wife.”
He was silent a moment, before adding, “My mother’s mate was killed in the attack.”
Mayla stopped what she was doing and turned to him. "I'm so sorry to hear that." The image of the woman Tajel had shared with her on a holodeck appeared in her head. Tajel had occasionally shared about his memories and experiences with his grandmother. Then thoughts to their upcoming unauthorized mission became personal for her team. "Do you need time off to go to her?"
Jahkar gave a sharp turn of his head, “Thank you, but no. My mother has integrated well into a community on Qo’noS. My presence would only complicate that for her. My Romulan heritage has made life difficult for her on returning to her people. We reserve our visits for offworld locations. Right now she is unable to leave, with all that’s happened. 
“Besides,” he continued. “We have work here that needs to be done. At some point, whether it’s now or later, I have a feeling we will be dealing with this Ghost Clan.”
"Not directly," Mayla said as she packed the rest of her gear into the locker, deciding how much of their upcoming mission she should reveal to him. There was no reason not to trust him. He was Shadow Ops, and was Bravo Squad.
But so was Thompson.
"Get whatever intel you have on the incident so I can take a look at it. And It probably would help if you looked into it too." Mayla leaned gently against her locker when Jakhar gave her a questioning look. "You and I will be separated from the team for this next mission. We are probably going into Klingon Space without authorization. All that intel on the incident may open some connections to my team's raid on the stronghold on Qu'onos. Anything you can get. I'll do the same on my end, although I don't know how much I'll be able to get considering we're supposed to be as far away from this as ordered."
Now that comment piqued his curiosity as everything she said so far was enough for him to put the pieces together. He gave her a nod of understanding and gave her a slight wiggle of a finger of an SO hand signal.
"So I'll need your head clear, and your focus. I am counting on your confidence that you keep this just between ourselves. It's that important that no one knows what we're about."
Jakhar nodded. "We were compromised on our last mission right at the beginning."
"We were, and we don't know how. Lazarus is looking into it and has put an investigation into the matter. Until we find out how, everything we know must be compartmentalized on a need to know basis. For our safety in the field, we have to."  Mayla shook her head as this suddenly had a familiar ring to it. "I hate keeping things from the team, but it has to be done. I don't know every member well enough."
"Ky was like that," Jakhar said, remembering back to his former Trill commander's paranoia. "It created a distrust within the team."
"This time it's coming from Lazarus. And he's not happy about it at all." Mayla said. "For our mission to be compromised right at the start, someone had to have clear access to us to have intel that fresh considering we planned the mission on our way to Andoria."
"Looking over our shoulders again." Jakhar growled. "Even within the ranks."
"It's become part of the job now," Mayla said quietly. "Now, back to your mother, is there anything you need from me?"
Jahakr shook his head, “Negative. I’ll see what I can find out. I have some resources in the Klingon Empire besides my mother. I’ll keep things discreet.”
He turned to depart the room and stopped, adding, “I don’t know if this is any consolation to you, Mayla, but you have my loyalty.”
The Romulan/Klingon then left the room.
Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 1912.24
Ryramorl had taken the information on Gaish, and had contacted Carnora Special Forces.  “First Name of Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral reporting.”
“Rygaran D’Hronarin in the Mountains answering.  I’d share water, but you’re a horizon and a horizon away,” said the Olvern on the other end.  “Warlord Hworyal assigned me to be the liaison between Carnora Special Forces and Shadow Operations since I’ve also served under MacLeod, so in this tent I sit, while you get to hunt.  So, what do you need?”
”I’d share water too, Rygaran.  I need to be quick.  The Long Hunt has identified a zharin that I think has gone through our camps before:  A Ferengi named Gaish, a weapons dealer.  I think he’s been active in our system in the past.”  He sent an image of Gaish.
“...him.”  Rygarin growled.  “Yes, known for smuggling energy weapons into our system.  His head would make a good plaything for the cubs.  I would suggest asking your Hunt Leader if you can contact my brothers Liral and Lyral, I know they’ve had dealings with him in the past; they’re some of the few mercenaries who’ve managed to get permission for energy weapons.  If they demand payment, let Hworyal know, and he’ll arrange it.”
“I will, next briefing,” said Ryramorl.
“Too bad you have little time; things on the Homeworld have been eventful, Ryramorl.  Maybe next time, I’ll tell you the news.”
“I look forwards to it.”  The two bade each other farewell and cut contact.
Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.08
Lazarus sat across the desk from three Starfleet officers who were part of the group of techies Sorvek had sent them called the Madcap Engineers. Lt. JG. Daven Corhees, a Betazoid, Ensign Pui-Chor Wong and Ensign Bryan Turner, both humans. Joining them was his own chief engineer, Lt, Commander Tommy Carmichael.
The captain looked over the four men and took a deep breath, “So, I gave you four a task. What do you have for me?”
“Actually, we turned up a mystery,” Corhees giggled. “Of sorts.”
Wong laughed, “I think the word you’re looking for is conundrum.”
“That’s an understatement,” Turner scoffed.
Lazarus scowled, “Results, gentlemen, do you have any? I asked you three to work with Carmichael because your backgrounds suggest you know a thing or two about hacking – illegally accessing data files, breaching computer security.”
“Two, maybe three,” Wong added with a grin.
“Results!” Lazarus barked as Carmichael shook his head at the end of the row where the engineers sat. “Dammit! Quit the antics and answer my question! That’s an order.”
“Yes sir,” Corhees said, snapping to attention. “Sorry, sir, we’re not used to all the protocols and decorum. We spend most of our time in the lab.”
Carmichael cleared his throat, “Captain, what we found was quite interesting. We scanned through hours and hours of Federation data feeds across the quadrant from around the time we were en route to Andoria and found some…anomalies”
“Anomalies?” Lazarus asked. “Explain.”
Wong stood up as if he were about to give a speech, “There were anomalies found in the Federation communications grid. Something abnormal…a glitch in the grid. Something was there, something we can’t identify, on multiple occasions.”
“You’re not making a lot of sense here Madcaps,” Lazarus growled. “Nor are you Carmichael.”
“That’s just it, sir. We don’t know what these glitches are,” Tommy said. “It’s almost like there is a subroutine or something that is finding, intercepting and decrypting encoded data and communications within the Federation communications network – Starfleet included. It does this virtually unnoticed, copies the data and sends it on to another destination.”
“While allowing the original transmission to continue on to its destination,” Turner added. “Rather ingenious, truthfully. The fact is we’ve never seen anything like it.”
Lazarus had a befuddled look on his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Explain to me how you reached this conclusion, such as it is.”
Wong continued, still standing at attention, “We scanned every transmission, every log, looking for any way someone could have notified the Legion of the Daryl’s cover as Admiral Bridwell. We could find nothing originating on this vessel that would suggest anyone aboard blew Daryl’s cover.”
Lazarus pondered this a moment. It would have been easier to have found the culprit aboard Resurrection. It would have tied the matter up nice and neat and they could have eliminated the leak and moved on. This just added to the ongoing laundry list of strange things associated with this Legion.
“So, what all this about a program or sub-routine in the communications network?” the captain asked. “What does that have to do with any of this?”  Wong looked to Turner, who motioned for him to sit down. The engineer nodded and sat down, turning over the floor to Turner, who remained seated.
“OK. This is where it gets hinky,” Turner said. “When we cleared any chance of the leak coming from this ship, we decided to look at the dissemination of information about the Admiral Bridwell cover.”
“Dissemination? We certainly didn’t broadcast the fact we were having Thompson pose as a n admiral,” Lazarus muttered.
“No, he’s not saying that,” Corhees said, leaning forward in his chair. “But there was a series of events that took place. The plot to have Thompson pose as an admiral visiting Andoria was hatched aboard Op Base One. While Resurrection was en route to Andoria, Thompson and Beckett gained access via Admiral MacLeod to Starfleet’s database and altered Admiral Daren Bridwell’s files to make the cover story work.”
Lazarus followed. He remembered them asking for that access and being granted such privileges. “Yes, the modifications to the file were simple. An alteration to Bridwell’s image to make it that of Thompson, alteration of his personal stats – height, weight, age – and they swapped Bridwell’s DNA, retina and fingerprints with Daryl’s.”
“The changes were made. It was a simple hack. MacLeod’s authorization allowed them to work around security measures and the deed was done,” Turner chimed in. “Then, approximately 15.25 minutes after the alterations were made, someone access the Bridwell file.”
Lazarus raised an eyebrow in a rather Vulcan way, “Accessed? Who accessed the file? Are you saying someone knew almost immediately that we'd accessed the Bridwell file? ”
   Wong went to stand up again, but Turner placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the seat. The young Asian man looked a little off, having been denied his attempt to stand, but he collected himself and turned his attention back to Lazarus.
“That’s the mystery. We don’t know. There would have been a login –like an address to trace the access back to,” Wong stammered, becoming excited. “We can’t figure out who accessed the file. We do know the file was copied and the copy was sent somewhere else.”
Lazarus looked from Wong to the others, trying to figure out which one would add the next portion of the story. To his surprise it was Carmichael.
“We tried to trace it back and it was sent on a wild goose chase through the Federation communication grid,” said Tommy. “We have yet to stop searching and the trail is still bouncing all over.”
Corhees smiled, “At this point we believe someone retrieved the data somewhere along this path, but who, how and when remains unknown, captain.”
“That’s incredible,” the captain replied. “Section 31 couldn’t even do that. You’re saying someone or something is able to track our activity in Stafleet’s computer network and know what files we access?”
Corhees shook his head, “Not just in the computer network. We believe someone has placed a program, sub-routine or something else in the overall communications grid of both the Federation and Starfleet – civilian and military – that allows them to track down, access and likely decrypt all kinds of data – messages, transmissions, data.”
Wong stood up again, before Turner could stop him, and he eagerly offered up an explanation, “I know what you’re going to ask, how? I want you to consider what your team dealt with in this last mission. Nanotechnology. Highly sophisticated, advanced nanotechnology that has been utilized to perform amazing tasks. Creating illusions that mask people’s identities. Nanites that can hack a computer or reduce its components to slag.”
“What if this Legion has nanotechnology in the communications network of the Federation, of Starfleet?” Turner blurted out, cutting Wong off before he could say any more. “You access data back at Starfleet Command, your query goes through multiple communications arrays between here and Earth. Just like when you send a message to Admiral MacLeod, or Sorvek, your transmission goes to a relay or array, which bounces it to the next one and the next one until it reaches its destination.”
Lazarus shook his head with a weary smile, “No way, you can’t tell me they’ve infected all our comm relays with nanites that sit there and cherry pick our audio, visual and data transmissions, decrypt them and then share the information contained inside with the Legion?”
Corhees arranged his fingers in a triangle shape as he sat there and looked at Lazarus, “You wouldn’t need to infect every relay. There are thousands of them scattered around the Federation. Just the one’s in Earth’s solar system or around other key worlds in the Federation. Say for instance, Memory Alpha..Vulcan…Andoria.”
“He’s right,” said Carmichael. “Almost every data query goes to Earth or Memory Alpha. That’s all you’d need to do.”
Corhees chimed in, "And our theory is that the nanites are programmed to seek out specific transmissions. Possibly they are tracking MacLeod's authorization, or maybe Shadow Operations in general. They recognized one of these factors in the hack done on Bridwell's file, accessed the file and noticed the alterations. Possibly someone in Legion recognized Thompson...or they ran him through facial recognition. Anything is possible."
“Do you have proof of these alleged nanite spies?” Lazarus asked.
All three Madcaps looked at one another, then each looked away in a different direction, leaving Carmichael to answer. “Not yet. It’s a theory. There have been a number of strange glitches in the grid. We’ve tracked reports of anomalies going back eight years, but they are sporadic and so far have been dismissed as everything from radiation interference to simple data disruptions and outages. But we think they’ve been missing the real cause all along.”
“Nanites,” Lazarus growled. “So, we were compromised every time we sent a transmission? A data query? Anything like that?”
“Possibly,” Corhees said. “We’ll keep on it. In the meantime though…”
Lazarus tapped his comm-badge, “Lazarus to all ship’s personnel. Put a stop to all outgoing communications immediately. Shadow Operation personnel, assemble in the War Room ASAP. Lazarus out.”
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 7: Splitting Up ==
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.09
Ryramorl entered the War Room, in time to see some engineers cleaning off his usual seat.  Ensign Grollan snapped to attention.  “We did some modifications to your chair, sir.  We based them off designs of Carnora furniture.”  Ryramorl concentrated on sitting down, and nodded as his tail slid easily through and rested comfortably in the space in the back. 
“Your attention to detail and accuracy is appreciated.  Thank you.”  He noticed that Reepchip’s chair had been modified with a ladder and a small seat placed inside the larger one, which would raise Reepchip to a comfortable position at the table.  He glanced down at his PADD, reminding himself to mention the two mercenaries that Gaish had done business with.  The engineers left as the others came in.
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.09
Reepchip backed away from the sparring session as he heard Lazerus’s summons.  “We are needed,” he said.  He looked Tiri straight in the eye.  “In the future, don’t call me cute.  Not with words, or your mind--or your eyes.  I don’t like not being taken seriously.”  He headed away to get changed.
After cleaning up and changing, he got another, slightly larger bowl of food from the replicator, and headed to the War Room.  Just outside the door, he saw Ensign Grollan.  “We fixed your chair for you, Ratman.  Let me know how we did.”
“Thanks, Grumps, I will.”  In the War Room, he saw that the fix was very similar to what was used on Carnora ships that accommodated both Muran and the larger species.  He stretched up to put the bowl on the table, then climbed into his chair.  Settling in, he nodded to Grollan, who nodded back and went back to Engineering.  Using a small pointed stick as an eating implement, he began to nibble on his meal.
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection 
Stardate 2001.11
Tiri couldn’t help but wonder how the sparring match would have turned out. Reepchip was no doubt a worthy opponent. They would have to find out another day how the match would have ended. Now, it was time for business.
Sh'avelith dressed and ended the program before heading to the War Room. She walked into the room and found Reepchip and Ryramorl receiving new chairs, installed by the Madcap Engineers. 
She said nothing, clearing her mind of any thoughts that Reepchip looked cute in his new chair, before sitting down at her spot around the table.
Commander Mayla Vree
Her quarters, USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.12
“Lazarus to all ship’s personnel. Put a stop to all outgoing communications immediately. Shadow Operation personnel, assemble in the War Room ASAP. Lazarus out.”
Mayla had just entered her quarters stood just inside and waited for the door to close behind her. Upon hearing Lazarus' announcement, she brought up her subvoc controller, deactivated the subspace relay, and enabled local communications that will only work inside the ship. Deactivating the subspace relay also minimized her access to her AI persona that mainly functioned within the Starfleet cloud. Starfleet Intelligence skunk works will get a notification that she had shut off her assistant.
It was a sixth sense or something (most likely something), but someone had been in her quarters. She scanned the room with a critical eye and saw something amiss in her neatly made bunk. She was meticulously neat and organized with her quarters; everything in its place. She took a slow step closer and noticed the pillow had been slightly ruffled. She picked it up and saw something she hadn't seen in a very, very long time.
A piece of paper. A folded piece of paper tucked underneath her pillow.
She slowly picked it up as if it was an ancient artifact and unfolded the halved sheet. On it was two words carefully written in crude handwriting in Starfleet common-Black Sentry. It wasn't signed to indicate who wrote it. Black Sentry was a Starfleet Intelligence spec-ops designation for communications that were compromised. But who wrote this note?
"Computer, who was in these quarters last?" Mayla asked.
"You were, at 1506 hours," the computer responded.
So within the past two hours, someone had been here and erased the record. Her door chimed. She quickly folded the piece of paper and tidied her pillow and bunk. "Come."
A Resurrection security officer, Lieutenant April Himera stood at the door. "Captain Lazarus wants you in the war room immediately."
Mayla nodded and took one last look around before following the lieutenant out.
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.14
Jahkar was seated in front of the monitor in his cabin, in the middle of trying to raise some old contacts on Qo’noS, when suddenly his connection with the Klingon homeworld ended suddenly. Jahkar growled and threw his hands up in the air.
The announcement from the captain then repeated, Jahkar having missed it the first time while he was attempting to reach his associates. Communications were locked down...that couldn’t be good. They were also being summoned to the War Room.
The marine stood up and headed out the door to his quarters, arriving a short time later in the conference room dubbed the Resurrection’s War Room. He walked in and sat down at his spot, looking over the chairs that had been installed for Reepchip and Ra'yral.
“Nice chairs,” Jahkar said, then with a grin he added. “Aren’t you two special.”
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.14
Ryramorl’s muzzle twitched a bit in slight humour.  “I explained to Ensign Grollan that Federation furniture was literally a pain in the ass.”  He pretended to study his bared claws, and showed a bit more teeth than was needed.  “Evidently, I was sufficiently convincing.”  At Reepchip’s glare, Ryramorl just laughed.  “No, I simply explained to him that our tails made the original chairs uncomfortable, and suggested he look up what was on Carnora starships.”
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.15
Cody was in the Science Lab, running tests on the few nanites left they from the last mission, as he heard the gruff voice of the ship’s Captain over the comms. He made sure the stasis field which kept the nanites at bay was working flawlessly before he made his way to War Room.
As he entered, half of the team was already there. He nodded to his team members and sat in his chair, wondering what the urgent gathering was for.
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.15
Daryl had been checking the holodeck logs from the sim he had done with Vree. He also had performed a full spectrum scan in high resolution, to see if there was anything that could’ve triggered his behavior, the “killswitch”, as Vree had called it. So far, there hadn’t been a match. Furthermore, he had requested the logs from the chip he had implanted. The holomedteam had raised the verbosity from the logs since he had returned from Andoria, just in case. However, so far, the only match he was able to find, was the administration of several hormones and neurotransmitters, fitting the situation. 
Frustrated, he threw the padd on his bunk. He got up and stretched, as the voice of Lazarus came over the comm. As he walked out his quarter, the security officer snapped to attention, and followed Daryl to the entrance of the War Room, where he posted himself besides the door. Daryl ignored a few curious faces, and sat down in his chair, besides Cody. 
Cody looked at Daryl “you all right?” he asked. Daryl shook his head, barely noticeable for the rest of the team. “Later” he just said. Cody just nodded shortly and sat back in his chair.
Captain Quentin Lazarus 
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.18
Lazarus was last to arrive. He carried a stack of data padds which he handed out to the Shadow Ops team before he was seated. He caught a glimpse of the chairs the Carnora were seated in, recalled signing off on the requests and decided to say nothing. He sometimes wondered how long it would be before his ship looked more like something out of the Carnora military.
Taking his seat, the captain got straight down to business, “Our new engineering staff has come up with a theory about how Legion knew of our plans to substitute Lt. Thompson for Admiral Bridwell. It may also account for other insights they had into our last mission...insights we have believed until now may have been the result of a mole in the organization.
“On the padds I’ve furnished is the Madcaps report. To summarize, they believe someone has, for lack of a better word, infected key communications arrays and relays with nanites programmed to intercept messages and data queries sent by Shadow Ops personnel...and most likely from Resurrection and Fearless themselves.
“Yes, that means they have been pilfering our messages, queries for data from Starfleet and before you ask, yes, even the encrypted data and messages,” Lazarus said, a frown settling heavy on his face. “We’re still looking for concrete proof of this intrusion, which we’ll need to convince Starfleet Command and the Federation of this security breach. But there’s enough circumstantial evidence to conclude they’re accessing our communications...the use of nanotech is theoretical based on Legion’s modus operandi to date.  
“Therefore, no outgoing communications or data queries until we figure out a way to move undetected in the communications grid,” said Lazarus. “There’s also the issue of our mission going forward. Commander Vree and I have discussed targets and we need to get underway as soon as possible. I know this could put a damper on things...it will complicate communications. So, I’m open to suggestions for an immediate solution to our problem. Input?”
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.18
Jahkar shook his head in disgust, “These petaQ are becoming quite annoying,” he muttered.
The half-Romulan/Klingon looked around the table and then back to Lazarus, “I’m no communications expert, but I understand how it all works. We send a transmission, or a data query, it goes through a series of relays or arrays until it reaches its destination. Earth. Vulcan, Memory Alpha. 
“So how many of these relays are compromised?” he asked.
“Unknown,” Lazarus replied. 
“Can we direct our transmissions to a specific relay?” Jahkar asked.
“From our current position orbiting Andoria, our transmissions to Earth go through six different arrays,” Lazarus explained. “While a transmission to Ops Base One goes through two.” 
“So, it all has to do with distance?” Jahkar said. “Can we somehow alter Resurrection’s communications signal? Make our signal appear as something else?”
Lazarus raised an eyebrow and both he and Jahkar looked toward other members of the team to see who might have an answer for that technical question...though it might be something best left to Carmichael and the Madcaps.
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
Ryramorl pondered.  “It will likely be a stopgap for now, though it may work in the long run, but perhaps we can reroute the Resurrection’s signal altogether through a relay they don’t expect--maybe through a Carnora relay.”
“We could also disguise our messages as broadcasts of Muran debates,” offered Reepchip, and Ryramorl actually burst out laughing.  As Carnora broadcasting arrays were based off of Federation technology, these public debates (along with other public broadcasts) regularly ended up on Federation communication relays.  Most people considered such debates trivial, tedious and (due to the rapid speech and high-pitched voices of the Muran), annoying.  Reepchip looked around at the others.  “As we say amongst the Muran, the best place to hide something is beneath notice.  And it doesn’t have to be through the actual Carnora relays.  There’s an old Federation relay near the Antevas System we could use, so any broadcasts so disguised would make sense coming from it.”
Ryramorl pondered.  “If you can work out a way to keep the hidden message from being detected with such a disguise, it could work,” he said.
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
Cody listened to the proposal of both Carnora's. 
"Disguising against what? " He chimed in. "Apparently this nanotech is able to crack and decrypt ALL messages at this moment. And we can assume a lot of relays are affected. How do we know which array is infected and which isn't? We don't even know what it is capable of. I studied the nanites we got from the mission for a while. It's almost unbelievable what these nanites are capable of. We need to find out how this tech works. Otherwise it's shooting in the dark. " He looked around the team, awaiting their reactions…
Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
“It’s more likely looking for specific messages--or messages with specific headers or sources--and passing them on to the Legion,” explained Reepchip.  “If we manage to disguise it as something useless, these nanites will likely ignore the message.”
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
"That's a big assumption. " Cody replied. "It might as well decrypt and analyze all messages. It might even offload everything to phase cloaked arrays which on their turn decrypt and analyze, or send it to other relays through the quadrant. There would only be a minor delay before it reaches Legion, wherever they may be. 
Lt. Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
Daryl cleared his throat and sat right up. "These nanites, or nanotech they are using, use resources. Compute capacity, either from some hijacked nodes from the array, or perhaps they use additional hardware to get the compute power they need to check, decrypt and analyze, or the nanites use their own capacity in some sort of cloud. Either way, using resources means that there must be dissipation of energy, meaning, there must be a way to detect this.
Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
Lazarus looked up from the data padd he held, “Look at page 58 of the Madcaps report. They found a recurring anomaly in the communications arrays and tested what was passed off by Starfleet as a ‘glitch’ in the system. It happened each time a transmission or data query from Resurrection, Fearless or Ops Base One went through those arrays they’ve checked out.”
The captain brought up a chart from the report as a 3D holographic image above the table which slowly rotated for everyone to see. “There’s spike, in the array’s power source, at the moment they believe our transmissions are intercepted and deciphered.”
The graph displayed the spike and Lazarus ordered it to freeze. The image hovered there over the table for the team to inspect. “I don’t think these nanites or whatever it is that’s intercepting our transmissions have just gotten lucky and decrypted Shadow Ops codes on their own. I think they know our encryption. I think they can read it like it wasn’t encoded.”
Jahkar scowled, “That would mean they have our encryption key?”
Lazarus looked at Jahkar, then around at the other members of Phoenix Squad. “Possibly. Whatever they’re doing they have to be stopped. If they’re monitoring us, they’re monitoring Starfleet Intelligence and who knows what else.”
Commander Mayla Vree
War Room, USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.19
Mayla changed the frequency to a localized proximity directly to Lazarus. "Which also means they know you hacked into the penal colony's computer and what information we got from it. They know we were looking for Krang."
Lazarus glared at her and nodded.
“We have to go dark, period." Mayla said slowly out loud.
"You mean cut ourselves off from the universe," he responded flatly.
"If our enemy knows every move we make through any sort of communications leaving this ship, what choice do we have until we can be sure the threat has been eliminated? Assuming we can even do that." She looked over to Beckett. "This is like a virus, and we need an antivirus to spread into our own communications network to eliminate those nanites."
Beckett shook his head. "We don't have the technological know-how on how to even attempt that."
"But somebody on the black market might, since that's where this tech might be coming from." Mayla brought up a map of the team deployment she used when she and Lazarus talked earlier.
"Deep Space Nine," Lazarus said. "It's a start." He handed over a few padds to Sh'avelith and Beckett. "We'll use the coaxial drive and drop you two off at DS9 to investigate Krido Rit; one of the weapons dealers who sold weapons to the Legion. Find what you can about any nanite tech they may have come across. Follow up on any leads and rumors. And see if there's a way to eliminate them once they're in the system. You will meet up with another operative there."
Railius gestured with a hand. "I suggest we create false reports on ship to throw off our enemy as to what we know and we're we're going."
"That's a good idea," Mayla said. "And we should be more drastic with that. I suggest a program set up here to send random queries back to Ops Base One to flood the data their receiving. If we orchestrated it well enough, they won't be able to tell what's real and what's false."
"And neither will the recipient," Lazarus said.
"It won't matter, because it will all be false. We are going dark. Which also means we are on our own. We can't announce to anyone where we are at, let alone let anyone see this ship. Our presence will be logged into a computer somewhere and sent in as a report. We can't leave any trails to our whereabouts. We can't even trust our own subvocals now."
"We're going to need paper and writing instruments to pass notes to each other," Thompson quipped.
Lazarus handed out padds to Raillius, Ra'yral, and Charatetet. "I’ve arranged passage for the three of you to the Kevis System to look for the Ferengi Gaish, the other weapons dealer. You have the same mission. You will all be going undercover with neither back up nor support."
Vree raised an eyebrow, “You arranged passage? With whom?”
“A mercenary who I’ve worked with in the past. His name is Yevgeni Ibragimov. He’s on Andoria Prime at a remote airfield on the surface,” said Lazarus, reminding the group of his past in black ops and even service with the Maquis. “Yevgeni is a good friend and someone who has my complete trust.”
“If you contacted him with standard communications he’s compromised,” Vree said dryly.
Lazarus shook his head. “Ibragimov and I communicate via private communications. His service to Starfleet Intelligence is kept completely off the books.”
“So how does that work?” Vree asked. “Private communications?”
Lazarus sighed, “Mercenaries, smugglers, governments who operate in the shadow often pay dues to various organizations and groups who maintain secure communications networks for interaction. I contact him via that network. The transmission did not go through Federation or Starfleet arrays.”
The captain paused a moment, then looked at Vree. “That gives me an idea. Could we establish our own communications network? At least something we can use for communications within our group?”
Vree shrugged, making a note to look into the idea.
"Where will you be, if I may ask?" Sh'avelith asked, entering the conversation.
Lazarus looked at her and then everyone. "I can't tell you. It's better if you don't know. When we are done, we will return and attempt to contact you. Somehow."
Mayla could tell the team didn't like that. But it was better they didn't know that the Resurrection was going to violate a direct order from the President of the Federation.
Lazarus looked at Mayla, “If you want to discuss my asset, Ibragimov, we can talk in private before everyone gets underway.”
Lt. Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.20
Cody glanced over the assignment on the padd. He felt a slight discomfort with the idea of a lack of a backup or support. But hey, this was Shadow Operations. 
He had been on DS9 a long time ago, back in the days when it was still a Cardassian ore processing station. If they were still alive, there were some people from the days he worked in the family company that might be able to help him if necessary. 
Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.20
Ryramorl pondered.  “I know a few people on Carnor who probably know where Gaish is, or when he’ll be around, as they deal with him on a regular basis,” responded Ryramorl.  “Two of them are Liral and Lyral D’Hronarin.  Some of us knew them as youngsters, they are now mercenary leaders.  Even better, they’re the LAST people they’d think a Romulan to even consider working with--or Shadow Operations as well.  I’m not sure how far Kevis is from the Antevas System, though the Antevas System is close enough to Ops Base One that a Muran consortium considered a far-range mining project in the asteroid field before the Federation told them to leave.”
[Back to top]
== S1, E4, Act 8: Mission Prep ==
Commander Mayla Vree
War Room, USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.21
Mayla pondered how much of their mission was disclosed over the comm systems relays. How far back could they have been monitoring? The scope was so widespread it was hard to not be overwhelmed. Jahkar's contact with his mother, her inquiry into Janeway's access to her service records, the computer's extrapolation of Julian Thompson, even Lazarus' conversation with Sorvek. She kept her face pensive as the pieces of how far reaching the infiltration was nearly absolute. Every piece of data transmitted through Ops Base One, all of Phoenix Team's classified dossiers exposed, even information on the coaxial drive. Yes, the biggest question was, how long had they been monitoring them?
She gave Lazarus a nod at the mention of Ibragimov's name. This was the contact he had mentioned before in her earlier meeting with him. With this 'private' form of communication, they may have a chance at some rudimentary communications. 
"I'll look into it. But for the immediate present, it would be wise to revise all of our code names, protocols, computer and security access codes, the ship's access codes, everything Starfleet Intelligence has about us and this ship. Everything needs to be changed. We could encounter a Legion ship who can access the ship's computers and take over from within." She looked around and saw the looks on everyone's face. To her knowledge, this was the first time Shadow Operations was completely compromised. It was worse than having a rogue ShadowOps admiral.
"That will be the first order of business," Lazarus said. He nearly shuddered at suddenly losing control of his own ship. It happened to him before and he'll be damned to let it happen again. He looked to Mayla. "Make sure it gets done before anyone leaves the ship."
"Aye," Mayla said. She could see several others already accessing the computer from their own terminals set into the table. It made them all suddenly afraid of what information could be used against them. "We should also look at what we have in just our computer's database about the nanites and relays. If we can figure out which relays were infected, it might be simpler to just destroy them and put in a new one."
Raillius gave another gesture. "We need to inform Starfleet Command at some point. What if the Legion begins selling the information to our enemies?"
Her comment created a large uncomfortable silence in the room. That thought made all of them feel exposed and vulnerable. Mayla saw in her eyes some concern but was gone instantly.
Lazarus finally spoke. "This situation is severe. I don't have all the answers for you, and we need to come up with some solutions. As the Madcap report indicates, we know they are monitoring the Resurrection. As to how far reaching it is, we just don't have enough information to take to Starfleet Command. So, as the Commander said, the best thing we can do for us now is to go completely dark, and not let anyone know what we're doing or where we are at. Unless it's on purpose."
Mayla had just changed all of her access codes on the ship. Unfortunately, it wouldn't change anything at all in regards to her access codes to anything at Ops Base One or Starfleet Intelligence until the computer can relay that information to the cloud. She then looked at the Carnora and remembered something from a long time ago. Something that may help them get word to Starfleet Command.
"Ra'yral," she said. "I'd like to speak with you for a moment after the meeting."
Ryramorl nodded to Mayla.  “Very well,” he said calmly.
Lieutenants Daryl Thompson & Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.29
As the meeting ended, Daryl got up, shortly followed by Cody. As they walked outside of the Warroom, Cody saw the security officer stepping in line behind them, following them on short distance. Cody looked at Daryl. Daryl shrugged as he saw the questioning look on Cody’s face.
“I had a...little issue when I was in the holosim with Vree. For some reason I saw Borg everywhere and started shooting. Actually, I was shooting at Vree. I tried to kill her. “
Cody’s eyes grew big as he heard what happened on the holodeck. “And now you’re under surveillance.“
Daryl nodded. “Vree made sure I wasn’t confined to quarters or even thrown in the brig. But I am indeed under surveillance. Vree can’t tell whether it was some sort of Legion kill switch that activated my behaviour or that my PTSD was playing havoc in my mind. Until we all know for sure I’m ok, I am not allowed to walk around the ship by myself. I am also not allowed to carry any weapon. Hence, I’m staying here on board the Resurrection."
Cody was baffled. “Man, your time with Legion didn’t do you any good.“
Daryl shook his head. “Nope” was his short reply. They stopped in front of Daryl’s barrack.
"For what’s it’s worth, I know you’re a decent guy, Thompson. I believe this is all a strange and unfortunate coincidence. Stay cool, mate. I have to go and prep for the mission. “ They shook hands and Cody walked away to his own place to get his gear together for the mission.
Daryl looked at him until he disappeared around the next corner. The he turned around, nodded to the security guard and entered his room.
Colonel Jahkar
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.23
Jahkar stood up from the table fuming. He was growing weary of this Legion on their cowardly acts. They were without honor, choosing to conduct this war of theirs by manipulating others and taking advantage of technology. He wondered if any of them could face off in a fair fight.
The marine stepped away from the table and headed out the door, falling in step with Lazarus. “I assume Vree and I will be remaining with you aboard Resurrection?”
Lazarus offered a smile, “You assume correctly, colonel. I’ll share more with you both once the others are off the ship. The fewer members of the team who know what we’re doing the better.”
“Sounds clandestine,” Jahkar smirked. “And possibly insubordinate?”
The captain gave the half-Klingon/Romulan a wry grin, “Possibly. You have a problem with that marine?”
“Not at all, captain,” Jahkar replied. “Just give the word and I will be there.”
Lazarus nodded, “Until then, carry on colonel.”
Commander Mayla Vree, Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra'yral, Ensign Reepchip Charatetet
War Room, USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.27
Mayla and Ra'yral waited for everyone to leave the War Room before she spoke. "I seem to remember your race has some sort of limited telepathy. Is this true?"
“The Shamans do,” replied Ryramorl.  “Reepchip is one. He’s no Silent Shaman that does not need to speak, but he can communicate telepathically, especially with the willing, though it will take some effort.  We call it Spirit-Speaking.”
Mayla stood up and put her hands on the table. "The Captain will come up with the message, then translated to Carnora, and have Reepchip send the message via telepathy to someone who can write it down, and hand delivered to Admiral Sorvek. That would be optimal. Would he be able to do that? Find someone who can hand deliver it to the Admiral as fast as possible without using any communications gear."
“...You want Reepchip to Spirit-Speak someone on Carnor from here?!” asked Ryramorl.  “Not even the Silent Shamans have that kind of range. They can’t even do it from one moon of the Prince to another without a Spirit Crystal Array, and we don’t have one here--not to mention that it would send a signal just like any other communication device.  I suppose he could…” he broke off with a series of agitated growls.
"Well, you're the one who said he could do it." She stood up straight. "So tell me whether he can do it or not from here. If not, then we'll find another way. I don't want to bother the Captain with this if he can't do it. He's got a lot on his mind at the moment."
Ryramorl growled, not liking what was coming to mind.  "What is the message you want sent?".
"We'll run it through Lazarus, but something like "Black Sentry. Crimson Star. -Youngster"."
Ra'yral’s face twisted into a full snarl at the realization that everything they did had been compromised. "If I remember my SO code book correctly, Black Sentry means comms compromised in the field. And Crimson Star means we are continuing without further contact. And what is Youngster?" He immediately remembered as soon as he asked. "You.  It's what they used to call you when you were a cub, and Sorvek would know that."
Mayla nodded. Every Bravo Squad member knew what the opposing side the coded phrase Crimson Star meant. Crimson Nova meant their ship of operations had to leave the field and all operatives are on their own with no support until further notice.
Ryramorl growled, pacing a bit. “There is the Spirit-Calling, but you will need to ask Reepchip directly.  I am but a warrior; I cannot command a Shaman, and the Spirit-Calling is a thing of Shamans.”  He went to use his subvoc--then paused.  “I advise you to cover your ears, Commander.  I’m about to use the Far Speech.”  When she had protected her hearing, Ryramorl let out a series of rhythmic yowls and yaps that seemed to have a melody to them.  A few moments later, Reepchip came in.  
“What do you need?”
"We need to get a written message to Admiral Sorvek at Starfleet Intelligence. Ra'yral has told me you may be able to get a short message to someone on Carnor who can write it down on a scroll and hand deliver it to the Admiral on Earth. The message should only be written on the scroll, and never transmitted over any communications relay."
“I suggested to her the Spirit-Calling,” Ryramorl said. “I know it will be hard on you, but we MUST get word to Sorvek.  So I’m asking, Shaman Reepchip--please.”
Reepchip winced and paced.   “...I can do a Spirit-Calling, but....”  His tail thumped around in agitation.  “If you really want me to do this, I need a few things.  First, I need to Inscribe a room for a ritual.  Actually Inscribe it, not use the holodeck  Second…  I want Daven Corhees there.  He can lend his mental strength, and he actually came with me to Maryaln and met some Shamans there, so they’ll know him.  Third, this is going to take a lot out of me, so I’d need Sickbay ready.”  He looked at Ryramorl.  “Will you stand guard?”  Ryramorl nodded, and Mayla could see that the prospect of this ritual actually frightened the small Carnora.
Ryramorl pondered.  “If we can find someone who has experienced a mind-meld with Sorvek, Reepchip would be able to contact him directly.”  He looked at the Muran.  “I believe you’ve done that with Spargan once.”
Reepchip chittered.  “Only if I know which direction to search,” he responded.
Ryramorl pondered that.  “A shaman on Carnor it is, then,” he said, pondering the possibility Sorvek might not be ON Earth when they made the attempt.
"Let's inform the Captain first, then we'll do it immediately if he authorizes it." Mayla gave Ra'yral a confident smile.
Ryramorl did not look as confident.  “Go ahead and Inscribe a room, Reepchip.”  As the Muran headed off, Ryramorl growled, “I just hope he doesn’t kill himself trying.”
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.28
Sh'avelith finished packing her bag with the clothing she’d need -- all of it civilian or unmarked tactical dress for the field. She had not been told otherwise, but she assumed they would be proceeding undercover for this mission.
Once she was packed, she slug her bag over her shoulder and headed out the door, bound for the armory. Sh'avelith was dressed in a gray civilian bodysuit, boots and a black vest.
On her way, she went to key her subvocal communicator and hesitated -- not sure for a moment if internal communications were allowed. But she reminded herself it was only external communications, so she opened the channel.
“Sh'avelith to Beckett,” she said. “Want to meet me in the armory? We need to get ready for Deep Space Nine.”
Lieutenant Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.29
Cody pondered about a lot of things while he changed into his normal civilian clothing and packed a backpack with additional gear for the mission. He wondered what exactly had happened to Thompson. Then he wondered how long they had to fight against the Legion. They always seemed to be a step ahead of things. As he zipped up his backpack, Sh’avelith contacted him over the subvoc.
"On my way” he replied.
As he entered the armory, no one was there. He placed his backpack on the bench, grabbed another bag and started filling it. Sidearms, a phaser rifle, grenades and recon drones. The door opened, and Sh’avelith entered. Cody nodded to her.
“Ready for some infiltrating?” he joked to break the ice. He hadn’t had much contact with Sh’avelith and she seemed to be the quiet type. She just nodded In silence, and went on to pack her own weapons, then she turned around and looked at Beckett.
"Any ideas how this is gonna fly?” she asked him.
Cody pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Nope, not really. Guess we will come up with some undercover stuff, right? So we need to work out a backstory for the two of us.“ He looked at Sh’avelith, gauging her reaction and waiting for her reply…
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2001.30
Tiri grabbed up a bag to pack her gear:  a Type 2 phaser sidearm, a Type 5 Tactical Phaser Rifle, a kit containing a set of probes and nanoprobes and a tricorder with visual enhancements. She listened to Beckett as she packed and slowly nodded.
“Well, first off we need a plan to get aboard DS9,” she said. “We can’t just waltz in there, out of uniform, toting weapons. And Resurrection can’t warp in and drop us off if we’re supposed to be non-Starfleet. SO...I was thinking…”
She picked up a data PADD and tapped some command in it before passing it over to Beckett.
“We could see if Commander Vree agrees with this. Resurrection warps through the Bajor system, carrying out a near-warp transport of the two of us. We beam down to Bajor, outside the capital, and hike in to catch a transport to DS9.”
“What about the guns and gear,” Beckett asked. “How do we get that onto the transport and the station?”
Tiri smiled, walked over to a rack holding several tricorders. She took one and typed in a series of commands after pulling an isolinear chip from her pocket. She then handed the tricorder over to Beckett, “In Starfleet Intelligence we used to use tricorders configured like this to trick sensors into thinking our bag contained something other than weapons.”
She configured the second tricorder in the same manner, pulling another chip from her pocket, and dropped this one into her weapons bag.
“It will definitely get us past Bajoran security,” she said. “Pretty good chance we’ll be able to pass at Deep Space Nine as well." She looked at Beckett with a grin, “WIll that do? Or do you think the commander will disapprove?”
Lieutenant Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.01
Beckett raised an eyebrow. “How would this work? We can’t reconfigure tricorders on the fly? Also, tricorders is one thing. What about the sensors on the system itself? And we probably have to go through some scanners. “Then, an idea popped up in his mind. “We could however use our disguise I had in mind. I was thinking to use the family company as a disguise. “
Sh’avelith looked at him “Family company ? Isn’t that a little too obvious?”
Beckett grinned “Nah, I don’t think so. My family company does a lot of subcontracting to dozens of different companies. We would be some kind of contracted grunts, doing some excavation work in one the many mountain ridges on Bajor. Soil investigation, mining, you name it. We could use any of these companies They tend to have sloppy administrations, so even if they would check or backtrack, it would take time before they find out. Concerning the weapons, we could use a crate with digging and excavating gear. We could use one of the cloaking devices from our gear to hide the weapons out of sight, on the bottom of the crate.“ Beckett thought some more. “Also, we need to address the transportation at near-warp speed. It means full impulse, and that can result in sensors picking up the trail of the Resurrection. We would have to drop out of warp outside of the Bajor system, cloak and transport through the cloaking field to the surface. I’ll have to check with Carmichael if that is even possible…”
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.01
Sh'avelith pulled the tricorder from her bag, collected back the one from Beckett, pulled her highly illegal, Starfleet Intelligence built isolinear chips from both devices and returned them to her pocket. She placed the tricorders back on the rack they came from and smiled to Beckett.
“OK,” she said. “Sounds like you have a better plan.”
She collected her bag of goods and slung it over her shoulder as she picked up her clothing bag and held it in one of her hands. “I’ll drop these in the transporter room and meet you back there when we’re ready to transport. Anything else?”
Lieutenant Cody Beckett
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.02
Cody noticed her irritation when he doubted her plan.
“Well, yes. There is something else. I don’t know what these isolinear rods can do, but I guess they might come of use once we are onboard DS9, to make sure the weapons aren’t detected once the cloaking device’s battery runs empty. I assume hacking the sensors would be easier with these rods, right ?”
Tiri smiled “I think so indeed.“
Cody nodded. “Cool. I will setup our background profiles with one of the companies and get the crate ready. I will send you the profiles for review. Maybe you could look into the cloaking device from our gear, so the cloaking field fits the dimensions of the crate ?”  
“I’m on it,” she replied before heading out the door.
After Tiri left, Cody contacted Chief Engineer Carmichael. “Beckett to Carmichael. Do you have a spare moment ?”
“Carmichael here, what’s up, Lieutenant ?”
“I need to talk to you about transporting at near warp speeds”
It was silent for a moment, then Carmichael replied “Sure thing, I’ll be there 15 minutes. “
“Ok, meet me in the armory” Cody replied. He quickly made his way to one of the cargo bays of the Resurrection and found a maglev crate that would suit the purpose of the mission. He had some of his own gear in his private storage compartment. He would add it later, once Tiri would have the cloaking device installed and ready. On his way to engineering he left the crate at the transporter room. A few minutes later he stepped back into the armory. Carmichael was already there, looking at one of the lockers with weapons. As the door slid open, Carmichael turned around. As Carmichael saw Beckett, he smiled and greeted him.
“So, what’s your plan, Lieutenant ?” Carmichael asked.
“We planned to be dropped off on Bajor, somewhere outside of a city. What are the possibilities do this cloaked and/or in warp ?”
Carmichael frowned for a few moments to let the question sink in. “Transporting during warp is not possible for several reasons. The warp field distorts the transporter signal, and also, even on warp one, the range of the ACB would not be sufficient to hold on the lock to the surface to beam you over. Transporting while cloaking is by default also not possible, due to the nature of the cloaking field. We could, however, open a window in the field, through which the transporter signal would go. The transporter signal would be detectable though.“ Carmichael pondered for a few moments. “Another option would be to move the Resurrection into the atmosphere, just above the location you want to be dropped off and either transport you to your location; or make a parachute jump. Or maybe a suborbital insertion ? That are about all the options I can think of.”
Beckett sighed. “Thanks, Chief. “ he said to Carmichael. 
Carmichael nodded.”You are welcome”, and walked out of the armory.
Cody opened a channel to Vree.
“Beckett to Vree, can I have a word with you ? Our options for being dropped off undetectable are limited.”
Mayla's voice came back in a slight whisper. "I'm in the middle of something now. Give me 20 minutes. Where are you?"
"We will be in the armory."
"I'll meet you there. Vree out."
Lieutenant Daryl Thompson
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.05
Daryl sat behind the small desk in his quarter. He had given his AI Persona the task of running through all the data, to find any correlation between his behaviour and any data he was allowed to access. With comms cut off, it was difficult, as he didn’t have the huge capacity of Starfleet’s compute power at hand. He felt frustrated, and after another look, he threw the padd that showed the progress of the task, on the desk, and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his temples, as the door chimed. 
Come in,” Daryl stated. The door slid open, and Darva entered. “Hey. I just came to check on you. How are you doing” 
Daryl sighed. “I don’t know. I feel terrible for what has happened. And I can’t figure out what has happened in the holodeck. It’s frustrating” Darva sat down and laidher hand on his. 
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?” 
Daryl shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I have to sit this mission out and during that time, find out why I tried to kill my superior.” 
Darva softly squeezed his hand. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Things will work out. “ 
She got up. “I have to go. But my shift is almost finished. Care for dinner when I’m done?” 
Daryl smiled and nodded. 
“Sounds great. Could you get your dog on a leash so we have some private time?” Daryl gestured with his hand to the security officer, which stood outside of the quarters. Darva rolled her eyes, but laughed, as she kissed him on the cheek 
“I’ll see what I can do”, then she walked out of Daryl’s quarter, leaving Daryl to his own. 
Ensign/Shaman-Engineer Level 2 Reepchip Charatetet
Lieutenant/Carnora Special Forces Warrior Ryramorl Ra’yral
Lieutenant Daven Corhees.
Commander Mayla Vree
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.05
Lazarus had given them a look of skepticism, but Mayla had convinced him it was worth a try, playing down what Reepchip might have to go through. But that was a part of Shadow Operations as far as she could remember. They had to take necessary risks to accomplish a mission. And this particular situation they were in was all new to them. How they've all become reliant on secure communications was all out the airlock. They had to try this alternative communication, at least get a message out to Sorvek.
Lazarus had frowned on that suggestion to go over MacLeod's head to go straight to Sorvek. She explained that it was the only person who knew her well enough to understand the message. And if this ritual didn't work, they'll have to use this underground network Lazarus had contacted Ibragimov through. Lazarus agreed and gave them one condition to do it as soon as possible as they needed to deploy.
Reepchip had prepared the room as best he could in the time he had.  The walls had the strange, claw-like runes of Muran Shamanism drawn on them as high as he could reach, on the floor was a pattern of circles, with more runes on them.  In several of the circles, Reepchip had placed bowls of fruit, grains, and even raw meat.  Even Daven was a bit weirded out seeing all this.  “Captain Lazarus is going to have a fit if he sees this,” he said as he entered.
“You, circle of Roraghn, the Lord of Strength,” Reepchip said flatly, ignoring the comment.  He was not looking forwards to the ritual.  “Don’t mess up the runes.”
Ryramorl had changed into his traditional armour.  As he stepped in, Reepchip looked at a circle near the perimeter of the design, and Ryramorl wordlessly took his place in the Circle of the Sentinel, drawing his blade.
Mayla, being an outsider, was asked to stay outside of the pattern of circles.  Reepchip closed his eyes, and began chanting in his own language.  Ryramorl made a low, droning yowl as Reepchip chanted.  Reepchip continued to chant, but his voice crept higher and higher.  Daven started to wince--but it wasn’t from the sound of Reepchip’s voice.  The Betazoid began to sweat as the Muran trembled.  It was clear that both telepaths were struggling--then the chant stopped, and Reepchip fell over, convulsing.  His small body jerked as he vomited all over himself.  Ryramorl looked at Daven, who shrugged helplessly, holding his forehead.  The Olvern slumped, and looked at Mayla. 
“He failed.”  He went towards Reepchip, who vomited again.  He took off his cape, and he and Daven gently moved Reepchip onto it, so they could carry the shaking Muran to Sickbay.  “I’ll clean this up,” promised Ryramorl.  “I know the proper rituals to do it.”
Mayla watched the ritual with a pensive mood, but gave Ra'yral a nod of appreciation for trying. She opened a channel to the infirmary. "Vree to infirmary, we're bringing in a sick Reepchip. Do everything you can to help him and keep me posted on his condition."
As she watched them carry the Muran out, she opened a channel to Lazarus. "Reepchip's attempt failed and is being taken to the infirmary. We'll have to use the underground network to get a message to Sorvek. As soon as I get the initial report on Reepchip's condition, we can deploy."
In the infirmary, Ryramorl explained to the EMH that Reepchip had telepathically overstrained himself trying to get a message home.  The muran’s uniform had been ruined by his vomiting, and the EMH had no choice but to remove and discard it.
Once Reepchip was being taken care of, Ryramorl went back to clean the room.  Standing just outside the room was Lt. Commander Carmichael, looking at the weird patterns in bemusement.  “I assume there’s an explanation for this,” he said.
“Reepchip was doing a Spirit-Calling ritual, trying to send a telepathic message to Carnor.”  He looked at Carmichael with a short growl.  “This ship is sorely underequipped.  No animals for burnt sacrifices, no incense, no icons of the Messengers, not even any permanent inscriptions. Not only did Reepchip fail in his attempt, he’s in the Infirmary having strained himself.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Commander Vree that I would restore this room to its original appearance.”  He went to work, giving no indication to the Chief Engineer whether or not Ryramorl had been joking about the ship’s “lack of equipment.”
Captain Quentin Lazarus
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.06
Lazarus found himself frustrated more than once, reaching for the desktop to key open a channel or to use his computer interface to send a query for data to Starfleet -- but each time he reminded himself they could not send anything sensitive. He cursed this intrusions Legion had made into the heart of the Federation. Somehow, they had to get Legion out of the communications grid.
The captain checked the time and saw they would soon need to get underway if they were going to drop Beckett and Tiri at Deep Space Nine and make it to Tantalus to put a tail on the USS Invincible. Even with the instantaneous results of the coaxial drive, there was still a risk of failure and they were already going to be unable to make it where they needed to go if they had to resort to conventional warp drive.
Lazarus keyed open a channel to the team, “We need to depart in 30 minutes. Get everything you need and assemble the away team in the transporter room. Lazarus out.”
Ensign Tiri Sh'avelith
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.06
Tiri took the cloaking field generator to a workshop available to the team and started making some modifications to the device. She was a little put off by the fact Beckett had dismissed her tried and true experience with the modified tricorders without even considering it. Sure, it was a Starfleet Intelligence tactic -- not Shadow Operations. But it had worked for the team before and she’d brought the modded-chips from her last assignment for the sole purpose of using the technique at some point.
So much for wowing her new comrades. Tiri felt worthless. She’d need to unlearn everything they’d taught her at Starfleet Intel in order to fit in here. Regardless, they had a job to do and she’d have to learn how Shadow Ops did things to do her part.
She was wrapping up the modifications to the unit when Lazarus’ transmission came. She tested the device on a storage crate of similar proportions to the one they’d be taking along and everything seemed to work fine.
Packing up the personal cloak, Tiri stuck it in her bag and headed off the meet back up with Beckett.
Commander Mayla Vree & Lieutenant Cody Beckett
Armory, USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.06
Mayla walked quickly into the armory to find Beckett rummaging around in a large crate with what looked like mining and excavation gear.. "What is it, Lieutenant? We have about 30 minutes before you deploy."             
Cody nodded. “I am aware of that. But it’s almost impossible to have us dropped off at DS9 of without being noticed. So Sh’avelith came with the idea to beam us outside of a major city on Bajor at near warp. However,  I talked to Carmichael, and being dropped off during warp is virtually impossible, let alone with the coaxial warp drive.  Since Starfleet’s security protocol forbids transports during warp, it hasn’t even been investigated officially. Transport at near warp, meaning, dropping out of warp, transport out, and move on would still show up on some sensors. So that’s a no-go as well.” Vree took in the information and nodded.             
“So, no warp. What are our options.?” she asked.             
“Orbital insertion when cloaked or enter the atmosphere and drop us off with a parachute. A transporter beam would be detected. “             
Mayla walked over to a wall monitor and brought up the Resurrection's geographical map of Bajor. She zoomed in around Bajor's largest city, Jalanda City, and highlighted several surrounding low key insertion points Shadow Operations used to use to infiltrate DS9 without being noticed. There is also the possibility Legion might have those watched. But as long as they are disguised and mingle with the crowd, they should be able to get by without notice. She tapped at a specific one.             
"Materializing within the atmosphere with the coaxial drive will cause a sonic boom and announce our presence. We can materialize here at night, and drop you off in lower orbit," she pulled the view back and selected a point 20 kilometers above the surface. "You can do a suborbital insertion into this area here three kilometers out from Jalanda City and trek the rest of the way in. There is very low traffic along this road from the mountains at the start of the cold season. Just watch out for mother hara cats hunting for food for her cubs, especially during the winter."             
Beckett watched her familiarity with the location as she pointed out points of interests and where they may encounter people and choke points for bandits. He didn't have to ask to know she'd been there before.  He nodded in agreement. That road would also lead into the mountains to several of the chasms that were used for expeditions into the deeper crust layers of Bajor.             
“Sounds like we have a plan” Beckett nodded. “Sh’avelith and I will prep the 3 capsules and make sure we are ready within the 30 minutes we have left. “              
Mayla nodded. “We will arrive at Bajor when night falls over Jalanda. That is convenient, as we won’t lose time. “             
Beckett nodded once more."Guess that would be all then.”             
At that moment, Tiri entered the armory. She stood to attention as she saw Beckett and Vree. “At ease, ensign,” Cody said. “We have work to do. In 30 minutes we arrive at Bajor, and we need to have 3 capsules for suborbital insertion ready. We need to gear up, and prep the capsules. “             
“Good luck to both of you” Vree said. “You will be on your own for a while. “             
Beckett and Tiri looked at each other, then at Vree. “Thank you sir” Beckett replied. “Now, if you would excuse us, we have a lot of work to do.”              
Vree nodded “Carry on then” she said, turned around and disappeared.             
Lt.  Ryramorl Ra’yral
USS Resurrection
Stardate 2002.07
After cleaning the room, Ryramorl returned to sickbay.  “How is he?”  he asked.
“I cannot answer that,” said the EMH.  “My database is incomplete on Muran physiology and completely lacking in regards to their telepathy.”  Ryramorl gently touched Reepchip’s forehead.  They had to head to the Kevis System first--but Reepchip might need further help.  He decided to talk to Mayla.  As he left the infirmary, he saw Daven Corhees.
The Betazoid winced as he saw the big Carnora.  “I…  have to apologize,” he said softly.  “I chickened out, and that’s why the attempt failed.”
“Chickened out how?” asked Ryramorl, his face betraying no emotion.
Reepchip kept reaching farther and farther and…  I felt something.  I can’t explain it to a non-telepath, but it felt like…  something was about to tear.”
Ryramorl nodded.  “Daven, ask yourself this:  did you chicken out and that is why Reepchip failed and is in the infirmary?  Or did you ‘chicken out’, and that is why I need not ask Commander Vree permission to perform a mercy kill on a mindless husk?  I knew, and Reepchip knew, this was dangerous.  You must have known he was afraid.  This is why.”
Daven nodded and relaxed. Ryramorl nodded back, then went to speak to Mayla.  “Commander, when we reach the Kevis System, I would like to take a detour to Carnor.  The EMH cannot establish Reepchip’s health, as it has little information on Murans--especially their telepathy.  I think the Shamans may be able to help him best.  I can conduct some investigation on Gaish there, too.  He is a known dealer and trafficker in energy weapons, which are strictly controlled on Carnor.  Rygaran confirmed this just before communications were cut.”
Ryramorl took a deep breath, then said, “There is another reason I wish to go to Carnor.  A tribe member has died.  I wish to bid his spirit farewell and I have been told that some of his bones were left for me, and there are certain duties I need to discuss with my Chieftain.  It will not take long.”
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