Episode 5.2.16: Time Jump

## S5, E2, Act 1: The Way Home

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

Lieutenant Madhaven Chopra

Lieutenant Junior Grade/Shaman-Engineer Lvl 2 Reepchip Charatetet

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.16

Reepchip's eyes snapped open, and he sprang from where he was meditating. He HAD to get to Carmichael. The Muran raced down the corridor on all fours, springing from walls whenever he had to turn a corner.  ::Carmichael! Where are you!?:: he Projected as he raced towards engineering.
Ensign Kyle Rolston barely had time to flatten himself against the wall as he saw Reepchip race by him, leap onto the wall, and catapult himself down another corridor.

In Engineering, Lt. Commander Thomas Carmichael and Lieutenant Madhavan Chopra were trying to make sense of what they were seeing when suddenly Carmichael snapped his head up. "Charatetet's looking for me," he said, and went towards the door to Engineering to open them.

Chopra followed and was about to ask him what he meant when a blur of brown shot by them through the still-opening door.
Reepchip looked frantically around Engineering.

"Charatetet, what is it?" Carmichael asked the panting Muran as he and Chopra came over.

Reepchip came over and grabbed their hands and looked up at them, and they heard in their heads what the coaxial drive had said to Reepchip, exactly as Reepchip had heard it.

"Get it out? The dimensional drive?" asked Chopra.

"Logical place to start," said Carmichael. "Seems he doesn't like it." The two ran a diagnostic on the dimensional drive, to see what was going on.
It wouldn't be until some time later that Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael realized he'd referred to the ship as "he", rather than the usual "she".

Carmichael and Reepchip ran multiple diagnostics on the drive and came to an disconcerting conclusion.

"The multi-dimensional device cannot be extracted from the coaxial drive," Tommy muttered as he went over their findings. "At least not here. I need to get the ship into a facility and figure out how to separate the two pieces of technology…better yet, I need to figure out how this damn alien tech works in the first place. There are too many unanswered questions." He looked over at Reepchip, then paused. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a haunted look in Reepchip's eyes. "Reepchip, are you okay?"

Reepchip looked at him. "No, sir. I am not."

"Was it contact with the ship?"

"No, sir."

"All right.Lieutenant, I am temporarily relieving you of duty. There's not much we can do until we reach the Prime Universe anyways."
Reepchip quietly left Engineering. He needed to see his other teammates.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

USS Resurrection, Mutara System

Stardate 2302.16

Vree had seen their "guests" off the ship and the Enterprise from this universe jumped to warp and was gone. They were all ready to go home, but the captain had one last thing to deal with as he waited for word from Carmichael and Reepchip on the status of the coaxial drive.
He summoned Ryramorl to his ready room and within a few minutes the Carnora arrived.

Once he was in the room, Lazarus almost asked him to be seated, but he was too big for the chairs in his office. So, the captain stood and greeted Ryramorl on his feet, where he remained.

"Commander, I have been considering Joshagk's request for asylum and I have decided the Federation will not accept him," Lazarus said. "I understand he is in danger of extinction here, but Starfleet would not want us bringing anyone back from this universe. I'm sorry. We are in the Mutara sector, wasn't there some kind of Carnora colony here? Someplace that may take Joshagk in?"

Ryramorl shook his head. "I spoke with him when they put him in the brig. From what I understand, he was abandoned by the Carnora, and that they didn't even consider him worthy to be killed and eaten. They'd just dump him somewhere else. As for the Mutara Sector—I have no idea. The Masters didn't tell us anything about the Carnora here." He took a deep breath. "He wouldn't be going to the Federation anyways—but to Carnor. The outpost of the Khyrrian Empire in our universe."

Lazarus gave a deep sigh, "Ryramorl, you don't understand. Starfleet doesn't want inhabitants of this universe crossing over to the Prime universe. Bringing him there willingly will put my neck out on a shopping block. There will be ramifications, regardless of where Joshagk ultimately winds up. I could be reprimanded, lose my command or worse."

Ryramorl rumbled, thinking hard. "Dammit. I had hoped…" He had felt an affinity for the young Usarin, and he saw Lazarus's issue. "If we must leave him behind," he finally said, "I want him to be left with a flask of Draharan Juice. It's a medicine that puts one in a torpor—and an overdose is fatal. That was the agreement between him and me: Take him with us, or kill him quickly." However, Ryramorl's mind went to another possibility: tell Joshagk about the old Gate in the now-destroyed Antevas System, and give him the means of passing through.

Lazarus was growing angry. These Carnora had made this a situation where he was damned if he did it and damned if he didn't. He didn't want to see the young Carnora put to death here – by the Terrans or assisted in suicide by Ryramorl. They had him backed into a corner over this matter and he did not like it one bit.

"There has to be some way other than killing him," said Lazarus. "Another option, perhaps?"

Ryramorl gave a slight grin. "Yes. If the Carnora are here, the Khyrrians were here. If the Khyrrians were here, they built a gate between this universe and ours. If we can contact it—and most Starfleet Vessels can contact the gate back home if they know the codes—we can contact the Empire and ask them to send a shuttle. We're not the only ones with transdimensional drives."

"How do you know that the Khyrrians were here? What is their link to the Carnora?"

Ryramorl took a deep breath, realizing perhaps he'd said too much.

Captain Lazarus saw Ryramorl's reluctance. "Computer. Full silence. Do not record anything for the next 20 minutes. Authorization Captain Quentin Lazarus."

"Authorization accepted."

"Answer the question, Commander."

Ryramorl took a deep breath. "The Carnora exist because around forty or fifty thousand years ago the Khyrrians wanted talking pets. That's actually where the word Carnora comes from—their word for ‘pet'. We hide this from the Federation because we know how they feel about genetic enhancement. If the Federation found out about our origins, it could jeopardize our alliance. So yes, if Carnora exist here, the Khyrrians were here also, and they used massive gates to move between universes back then."

As Ryramorl explained these gateways he had to restrain himself from slapping his own forehead. The Carnora had gateways between the Prime and Terran universes? They had just gone through all the trouble to install a piece of technology in Resurrection that was now causing the ship issues, when they could have gone through a gateway to get here.

This revelation also put Lazarus in another tough spot because the Carnora there were teetering on the brink of extinction and if they went out as a species what would stop the Terran Empire from obtaining these gateways on their side of the "mirror."

The captain paused and slowly shook his head, "These gateways you speak of create a whole set of concerns for me, commander. Concerns I don't have the time or resources to deal with at this moment. I have another possible solution…one that might work but it will require a bit of deception."
Quentin and his growing bag of secrets, he thought. After the faking of Taj

el's death, why not do something else highly unethical, illegal and then lie to the people he cared about and respected to maintain that secret?
"Tell me, commander, do you know how to operate the transporter?"

"I do," said Ryramorl. "I was trained extensively on them at Starfleet Academy."

"Why didn't we just use those gates?" Captain Lazarus grumbled as an aside.

"Captain, using the gates isn't a simple matter of going through one gate and popping out another. While they don't need special activation for communication, they do for travel. We would have had to get permission from my masters to fire it up and travel to a universe they have apparently rejected, and its activation could have alerted everyone in that part of space—Klingons and Romulans included—that the gate was being used. Not a circumstance we want for a covert mission. Furthermore, we would have gone through the Khyrrian's home universe—and I have no idea what that's like, only that to survive here, they have to wear a containment suit."

Lazarus gave a nod, "Of course. So here's what I have in mind, but it will require not only you operating the transporter, but it will require your sworn silence on this matter going forward. What I am proposing could get us both in trouble, so if you don't want any part of it I won't say any more."
Ryramorl gave Captain Lazarus a crooked grin and a salute. "Captain, I trusted you with the true origin of my people. You can trust me with this." He already had an idea of what the Captain had in mind, and it had been something he'd been shown how to do.

"Here's what we're going to do. I am currently looking at habitable planets near or inside the Mutara sector where I intend to deposit the Terran soldiers we captured from the boarding action," Lazarus said. "I'm not sending them back to the empire and we're not bringing them with us, so I'm stranding them on a planet where they can live out their days."

Ryramorl looked surprised and held out a hand in a halting motion, "No, sir, we can't leave Joshagk there!"

"Let me finish," the captain advised the Carnora. "I will announce my decision to leave Joshagk there as well, on the opposite side of the planet, away from the Terrans. By all appearances this will be the decision we've all come to. However, I will leave you to operate the transporter to beam him down when the time comes. During transport, you will transfer Joshak's pattern to the teleporter in the cargo bay and loop it; nobody's using it right now. By all outward appearances, he was beamed down to the planet and left behind," Lazarus said. "When we get back to Umbra Prime, I will authorize you to take a runabout so you can return to the Carnora for an overdue check-in with your people. Joshagk will be beamed aboard the runabout and you can take him with you."

Lazarus pulled up a holographic map of the sector, which was projected above the desktop. "This is Ceti Alpha V. In our universe it was a habitable planet, teeming with life, when James T. Kirk stranded Khan Noonien Singh and his followers after they tried to seize the Enterprise. Our Ceti Alpha V was ultimately destroyed when Khan detonated the Genesis device 15 years later, but this one is still intact. Here, Ceti Alpha VI never exploded and shifted Ceti Alpha V's orbit, laying the planet to waste. It will be a decent place to heave these Terran soldiers.

"You will need to keep this secret with me. If you choose to include Reepchip, I will leave that up to you," the captain said. "You will need to decide if he can be trusted to remain silent or not."

Ryramorl pondered it, then nodded. "I'd much prefer Reepchip fiddle with the transporter; he's better at it than I am. And he can be trusted to keep a secret; that was drilled into him as soon as he began training as a Shaman." He tapped his chin. "One loose end, though. Joshagk himself—buuuuuuuut… I know exactly what to tell him. I'll tell him we're handing him over to the Masters, and they'll help him out. And I'll take him to the Banded Priests. For all he knows, they brought him there."

Commander Mayla Vree

Outside the infirmary, USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.16

Mayla perused the medical reports on the other members of Phoenix team while still keeping an eye on Smith's bio-readings and constant status on her condition. The infirmary was still off limits to non-essential personnel while they continued to work on her friend. At least there were less people outside the infirmary.

To anyone walking by, it looked as if she was napping while leaning back in a chair she had brought out from her quarters after changing back into her uniform. With her tap into the infirmary's computer systems, she didn't need to be here as the biomonitors would give her news much faster than any nurse could.

But she NEEDED to be here. The one time she wasn't with Victoria and she was seriously wounded. How did she feel about that? Having her in the field with the rest of the team created an achilles heel in the performance of their mission. Although her presence was useful in this last mission, the team could have come up with a different plan without using her. SHE could have come up with a different plan. It would have kept Victoria out of the field of battle.

"Commander?"

Her eyes opened to see one of the nurses standing in front of her. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to get you something to drink?"

Mayla held up the thermal mug she had with her. "No, I have my hot chocolate here. How is Lieutenant Darht?"

"He'll recover in a few weeks. And then a few more weeks of physical therapy. He took a nasty hit."

"Aye, he did."

"Would you like your face back?"

"Pardon?" Mayla asked.

"Your cosmetic surgery," the nurse held up the dermal regenerator.

Mayla touched her face and had forgotten. "Yes, please."

While the nurse worked on her face to restore her Trill likeness, Mayla began working on her after actions report. And always foremost in her mind, and eyes, focused on the bioreadings from Smith's condition.

"I saw Lieutenant Sh'avelith go to her quarters. She didn't look too well."

"Was she injured?" Mayla asked.

"Not physically as far as I can tell."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm a nurse. I'm trained to read people so when they come into the infirmary, I can better diagnose their injuries, whether it's physical or in their head."

Mayla stayed still and quiet until the nurse was done. Then wordlessly she got up, picked up her chair, and carried it along with her to Sh'avelith's quarters.

Lt. Tiri Sh'avelith

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2202.16

One of the nurses with Union XII, his name she could not recall, reversed Tiri's cosmetic alterations in the Gentle Annie jumpship, though she got the sense he'd rather be waiting in or near the medbay for news about Commander Smith,

When she left the Annie, Sh'avelith made her way back into the Resurrection's interior, where she considered stopping by the medbay, but she quickly became aware of the number of crew and Union XII personnel who were jammed into the corridors around the bay.

Seeing the number of people, she decided to avoid the whole thing. She was exhausted, stressed and still dealing with the traumatic injury she'd treated when Victoria was nearly killed.

All that blood, torn tissue, exposed muscles, tendons and bone. The Andorian woman felt bile rise in the back of her throat as she remembered all the minute details of frantically trying to save the Union XII leader.

As the anxiety gripped her, Tiri arrived at her quarters and stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind her. Tiri sank back against the door, her back pressing against the metal as she went to open a channel to Jahkar.

No, she told herself. Part of the way she was feeling was because of him and how their brief relationship had ended. No, she was not going to call and ask for his comfort and support.

Slowly, she slid down the door panel until she ended up on her backside and began to sob uncontrollably, head lowered between her knees as the tears flowed.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.16

The EMH, modeled after Joseph M'Benga, shook his head. They had messed up Daryl Thompson good, both mentally and physically. The physical wounds were easily treatable, although he had some pretty nasty wounds. But M'Benga was more worried about the neurological and mental state of Mr. Thompson. It was a miracle Thompson had been able to walk himself, let alone climb and fight, even with the adrenaline shots he received. His brains seemed to have been manipulated heavily by reshuffling his memory engrams and placing new ones beside them. A lot of them. This had caused quite some havoc in his brain activity as it appeared. He concluded that the chip in Mr. Thompson's brain stem had prevented more damage, getting damaged in the process itself.

Then the torturing, and apparently another heavy trauma had occurred somewhere in between. For now, he had put Thompson in a light coma, to give him and his brain some rest. M'Benga had yet to determine the best course of action. He sighed and looked around. The medical bay was very busy. At the other end, another EMH team, together with the Union XII team was still fighting to keep Commander Smith alive. Most of the other injured were already treated and dismissed.

The door opened, and Cody Beckett appeared. He looked for a moment towards the hectic scene around the bed on which Smith was lying, then a nurse stepped towards him. "You can't be here now".

Beckett towered above and raised his eyebrow. " I come for my friend" He said, in a friendly, almost sad tone while he gestured towards Daryl.

The nurse looked at Daryl, then to Dr M'Benga. M'Benga slowly nodded.

"Ok then, but don't linger! " The nurse replied and went on to her tasks.

Cody walked towards the doctor. Then he noticed Darva laying in the bed next to Daryl's, holding his hand. She was apparently wounded herself. She had tears in her eyes and she held Daryl's hand, squeezing it gently.

Cody quickly walked towards her, hugging her. He felt her trembling.

"What happened? " Cody asked.

"Hit by a shard of a grenade. " She said in a shaking voice. "I'll be fine"

Cody smiled. "Of course," He replied. Then he looked at his friend. He could only imagine what they had done to him. He exhaled deeply and looked at doctor M'Benga

"Any news on his status, doctor? " Cody asked.

M'Benga looked away from the PADD he was reading.

"No, not yet. It's a difficult situation. He really has severe trauma, both physically and mentally. I need to think on how to proceed with Mr. Thompson. His case is quite unique. The physical part is the easiest part in this. But the brain manipulation, together with the torturing is a complex matter. It comes on top of his old traumas. "

"Is he gonna be ok? " Beckett asked.

"I honestly don't know" M'Benga stated.

"Time will tell. The next 24 hours I will keep him in a coma while several procedures will be executed. But he will need to work on it himself once he awakens. He will need psychological counseling; mental training and his neural chip needs to be replaced. It will be a long process. I will evaluate his situation and his psychological stability before the next mission. And at this moment I seriously doubt if he can be a part of that"

Cody nodded. Daryl was in bad shape. He sighed and looked at Darva, who cried as she heard what M'Benga told.

M'Benga looked at Darva.

"He will regain consciousness, no doubt, but it is possible he has changed, quite a lot. Up to the point where he could be barely recognizable as the person he was before. But we do our best. "

Darva nodded in silence, while wiping her tears away. It was a lot to cope with. Commander Smith was still fighting for her life a few meters away, and there was a realistic possibility Daryl would never be the same…

Cody didn't know what to say. It was harsh. On the other hand, they got him back. And 24th century medical tech had come far. So, there was still hope…

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2202.17

The next few hours were a blur.
Although the Carnora spent some time by the Scot's side, Ra'yral eventually left to report to Captain Lazarus. Beckett and Jahkar kept McCulloch company for a few hours but eventually had to excuse themselves to tend to their matters.

Eventually, the Scot found himself alone again, staring out the viewport … contemplating Victoria's fate. As he debated whether or not to contact Victoria's parents, he noticed crowds forming in the passageway. Will casually glanced over at the gathering and observed that there were small groupings of security officers, crew members, engineers, science officers and others between his position and the bend in the passageway several dozen meters away.
Thrice pushed her way past the crowds and made her way to McCulloch. She slumped to the floor next to him and yawned several times.

"You don't have to keep me company, ensign." Will quietly declared.

"Bullsh\*t." Thrice quickly retorted.

"Who the hell are all these people?" McCulloch asked as he gestured towards the crowd.

The Trill security officer studied the crowd in silence before answering the question.

"Union XII proved themselves during the boarding action," She replied. "Not only did they fight side by side with the rest of the crew to repel the Terran attackers, but they also saved several crew members in the process. Many on board the Resurrection consider Union XII a lucky charm."

"Interesting." McCulloch quipped.

"I know right?" Thrice countered. "I've heard a few assert they'll refuse to participate in future missions unless they know the Angels of the Battlefield are with them."

"The what now?"

"The Angels of the Battlefield. That's what many of the crew call them. I've even heard the Irish nurse …"

"Fiadh Hannigan."

"That's her! I heard she took three hits during the cargo bay fight but continued to carry wounded crewmen to safety. I'd fight to the gates of Hell and back if I knew someone had my back like that."

Will nodded in silence as he looked over at the crowd. Some were whispering to each other as they glanced over at him.

"So why is this crowd HERE." He demanded.

"The lead angel is down," Thrice replied as she gestured toward the assembled groups. "Some are praying for her. More than one was the recipient of her kindness and wish to hold a vigil in her honor. There may also be gawkers hoping to see the nurse who had no operative training but agreed to go undercover to rescue Daryl Thompson."

McCulloch nodded in understanding before looking back out through the viewport. "Is there any news?"

"Unfortunately no. Her condition is the same." She reluctantly answered. "The doctors are planning another go at it in the next couple of hours. But if there's no improvement, then …"

The Scot chose not to reply and instead looked out the viewport.

"Sir, the rumor is she changed her next of kin paperwork just before the mission. I heard a medical assistant say she removed Commander Vree her medical proxy and named you instead. Do you know anything about this?"

Will looked at Thrice stunned before shaking his head in the negative. "No, I … she never discussed this with me."

The Trill nodded in understanding before standing up. "If I hear anything, I'll report to you immediately."

McCulloch watched as the security officer walked away. After she left, a couple of crew members attempted to approach the Scot but he politely waved them away. As he stared out into the darkness of space, he repeatedly asked himself where the %^&\* was Vree?

He knew the Trill and Smith had been through a lot together. Those experiences, coupled with the Trill memories, had caused Victoria to see and treat Mayla as her sister. Yet it was clear from McCulloch's perspective that the commander did not reciprocate those feelings.

Will seethed as he sat in the alcove and wondered again where the hell she was. Was it that Mayla saw Victoria as nothing more than an inconvenient prop to be used as she saw fit? As someone who was beneath her and only worthy of her scorn?

The Scot wondered what to say to Victoria if she did survive and asked where the Trill was. McCulloch wrestled with the issue for several long minutes before ultimately deciding, against his better judgment … he would lie.

If she asked, he would claim Mayla Vree was with McCulloch the entire time. He didn't want to break Victoria's heart over the snub.

"Damn bloody Trill," he muttered to himself as once again waved a crowd of crewmen away.

But after grumbling and mentally directing his frustrations towards Vree, he started to calm down and asked himself if he was being fair to the Trill. How did he know she wasn't in the operating area, personally threatening the nurses and EMHs to save Smith? Or perhaps she was monitoring Victoria from afar … honestly that was what her father would have done.

After coming to the conclusion that perhaps he was being unfair towards Mayla, McCulloch sighed and leaned back against the alcove wall to rest. As he started to doze off, Reepchip appeared before him.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Reepchip Charatetet

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.18

Reepchip found himself walking towards the infirmary to see how his friends were doing. His mind was still churning over the thoughts of what he'd done—taking out Tiri with his defensive shriek, having to use the Hidden Hand in combat—but mostly his mind was on the fact that he'd driven someone berserk and had gone berserk himself in the process.

As he headed for the infirmary, he saw McCulloch sitting in the hall, looking out the window. "Sir?" he asked, staying back a bit. He wasn't sure how McCulloch would see him now; some time ago, Reepchip had tastelessly pranked him by using the Silent Voice to make McCulloch "hear" the howl of a berserker. After what Reepchip had done to the Mirror Ryramorl, McCulloch would have seen the real thing.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2202.18

Will noted that Reepchip seemed … uneasy … around him. The Scot studied the Muran silently for a few moments before standing up and gesturing for the young lieutenant to join him.

"You seem uncomfortable as if on edge Mr. Charatetet." McCulloch noted as he continued to watch him. He wondered if Reepchip was uneasy because of his role in the cavern fight,

Before Reepchip could answer, the Scot continued.

"Lieutenant, I have a pair of observations I would like to share with you," He announced. "I am already hearing about a ‘friendly fire' incident between you and Ms. Sh'avelith. A word of advice?"

"Sir?" Reepchip asked nervously.

"Sh\*t happens, Lieutenant," Will announced with a slight smile. "Given the circumstances surrounding the incident, we should chalk it up as an unfortunate mistake. Nothing more and nothing less. Learn from it and move on. Besides, from what of your conduct attacking those placement nests, as well as your conduct as we withdrew to the Resurrection, I believe you proved yourself."

"I should have known," said Reepchip. "I knew Ryramorl was there, and I flattened a few Andorians once in Starfleet Academy. And I should have remembered we were in a cavern."

"You need to be aware of your surroundings Lieutenant." Will cautioned and reminded the Muran. "Learn from this and move on … but don't let it happen again."

As McCulloch continued to speak with Reepchip, he would occasionally glance down the hallway to see if Ensign Thrice was approaching. She wasn't. On one occasion, he observed Fiadh Hannigan dash down the hallway towards him but turned right and disappeared from view. Moments later, she returned, only to run back towards the infirmary.

The Scot sighed and looked back at the Muran.

"You should know Commander Smith was …," Will gulped audibly as he corrected himself. "Commander Smith holds you in high regard. She told me you were a tough b\*stard. I know she would be proud of your role in taking out those placements."

"Thank you," said Reepchip—but clearly something was wrong.

"What is it?" asked McCulloch.

"...I sent someone berserk," he said quietly. "And… I was thinking about that dumb prank I pulled on you some time ago. And now… you know what that howl means." He was certain Will had seen the Mirror Ryramorl tear into the prisoners like a force of destruction.

"Ah yes, the prank, when we first met." Will noted. "I wasn't there when you sent the Mirror Ryramorl berserk … I believe I was a few levels above you with Mr. Thompson and Ms. Smith."

Suddenly, Reepchip's combadge chirped, and the Muran visibly drooped. Today just would not END.

"Today is not our day," McCulloch announced. "I would enjoy your company further, but it appears Captain Lazarus would like a word with you. Good luck lieutenant."

Lieutenant Tiri Sh'avelith and Commander Mayla Vree

Tiri's quarters, USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.22

Sh'aveilth fell asleep curled in a ball at the door to her quarters. The mission, the injuries sustained by Smith and the overall emptiness and loneliness she felt were completely overwhelming. Crying, followed by sleep was just what she needed as her body processed the events she and the team had been through on Rogaran.

In her dreams, she was still running through the mines, avoiding the stray guards intent on destroying any of the prisoners who seemed like they were part of the insurrection. Which was anyone who wasn't wearing a Terran uniform. Tears rolled down her face as she and what was left of Phoenix team struggled to get to the Underground where their medical support team was waiting for them. She tried to bring her weapon around to fire on a large looming figure that looked Carnora when from ahead of her, Ra'yral opened fire not a moment too soon. The exploding body sprayed across her, covering her with gore.

And the smell. She tried to brush away the smell but it became more pungent, piercing her senses to a more heightened alertness. It overpowered her senses, drowning her. Then she awoke thrashing.

She was lying on the floor staring at the dim ceiling lights of her quarters. Commander Vree and a doctor were huddled over her.

"She is awake. My scans aren't showing any serious injuries. Maybe a fugue of fatigue, but you made the right call to activate me," came a dispassionate voice.

Mayla had authorized an emergency entry when Tiri didn't answer her door after several chimes. She found Tiri lying out cold on the floor and immediately called the EMH. After a quick scan found she wasn't seriously injured, mostly cuts and bruises. But the rhythm of her breathing and dreamstate made her sound delirious. The trill commander lifted her up like a child and laid her into her bunk.

"I'll enter this into her file and queued for a doctor to look in on her when the current crisis has passed. But she should be able to return to duty-"

"Computer, deactivate EMH," Mayla ordered and the EMH derezzed. She went over to the sink and wet a few towels and started wiping blood and dirt off Tiri's face and hands. With Victoria's life still in a balance in the infirmary, the staff hasn't had much time for anyone else at the moment. She pulled up the chair she had brought with her and sat down next to Tiri who still had her eyes closed. Mayla started wiping her hands and made note of the tear streaks that had 'cleaned' parts of Tiri's face.

Now Tiri opened her eyes to clearly see Mayla wiping her hand with a wet towel. "Commander? You're really here. I thought that was a dream."
"The EMH used a smelling compound to bring you awake. You were unresponsive." She continued to carefully wipe each finger.

Tiri let out a shuddering breath, now remembering the dream she had. Or was it a dream?

"I'm sorry, commander," Tiri said. "The mission was exhausting. Treating Commander Smith was within my abilities…but honestly, I've never dealt with injuries that were so traumatic. I guess it all just caught up with me."

She took the cloth Mayla had been using and wiped away her own tears and the dirt still on her face. In their haste to reverse Tiri's cosmetic alterations, the nurses on the Gentle Annie had not taken the time to wash away all the dirt and blood.
The Andorian looked to Vree, "It won't happen again, commander."

"A nurse in the infirmary saw you coming back to your quarters seemingly without any physical wounds, but she sensed something about you was amiss. So let's talk about it. You held it together until you got back to the safety of your quarters. That's admirable. I've seen members of this team, more veteran than you, lose it in the field during a mission. That could get people killed. And that's what we try to prevent as much as we can. But sometimes, the odds are just too great against us."

Tiri thought back to how the rest of the team reacted to Victoria's wounds. She gave a slow nod as she thought back at the frantic, almost panicked tone she remembered hearing after the doctor was attacked and wounded.

"By the look on your face, I see that you noticed it too."

"But you consider her your sister, how could you suppress those emotions, like a vulcan? After seeing her like that?"

"Brooding or lamenting over it wouldn't have saved her." Mayla took the soiled towel from her and handed her a fresh wet one. "From what I heard, you gave her her best chance of survival. Thank you for that."

At the mention of Victoria's survival, her thoughts suddenly turned back to the images burned into her memory. "I just keep seeing the wounds."

"They will fade, eventually. But never forgotten." Mayla leaned back in her chair. I've had my fair share of trauma too. Not many people know it. Daryl knows, Lazarus knows. I was adopted at birth. The first parents I ever knew were tortured to death in front of me at a Cardassian concentration camp during the war."

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry." Tiri said as she continued to wipe her face clean.

Mayla shook her head. "Long story. They had raised me since birth, and I was forced to watch them be tortured to death over the course of a week. Something like that affects your very soul at seven years old."

She looked at the trill with a tiny bit of understanding that she had really lived through some horrific times to become the person she was now.
"Kyril Vree adopted me into his family when I was rescued. He helped me learn to push past the trauma and the dead to focus on the present and the living. Because in the end, that's all that matters."

"That explains the depth of your demeanor," Tiri said out loud, but didn't mean to.

"How's that?" Mayla asked.

"All the time, the stoic face, the seriousness, always on duty, neutral demeanor. Emotionless."

Mayla gave her a smile at her candor. "You should meet Admiral Vree some day. I've become a lot like him in more ways than one. There is little that this life hasn't seen or has memories of. That gives me a certain ability to suppress certain emotions because I had already reconciled something similar long ago."

"So…experience makes you…you."

"Of course. And your experiences will make you…you. We all learn from our experiences, and no doubt, you'll learn how to handle yourself the next time you see a horrific wound on someone you care about. You just told me yourself, that this will never happen again. Resolutions like that make you stronger."

Tiri slowly nodded her head, "It's strange. I've dealt with horrific burns, massive phasers wounds and I even did a training sim where I was treating victims of a bomb detonation…but they were all holosims. As a medic I barely used my skills when I was in Starfleet Intel and though I've used them more here, it's never been anything like that was."

The Andorian gave a sharp release of air as she exhaled and shook her head, "I can't believe I passed out." Then, as an afterthought, Tiri realized she hadn't ask the real question at hand, "H-how's Commander Smith. Did she make it?"

Mayla glanced at the bio readouts still being fed into her eyes. "She's stable, but still in critical condition. They are going to perform two more surgeries. There's nothing to do but wait."

"And that silence breeds brooding and lamenting."

"Yes, it does." She quickly opened a window in her eyes to show where the rest of the team was. They were all huddled together. "And I think that's exactly what the rest of the team is doing right now."

"You should go check in on them," Tiri said, suddenly self conscious that her CO was in her quarters.

Mayla looked at her critically. "I came here to check up on you first. You had to treat Victoria's wounds, literally hands on and in the field during livefire. I think you've gone through a crucible. It should get easier."

"You're just telling me I'll have to treat more wounded." Tiri said, more to herself than making an obvious comment.

"I hope not. But if you want more on the field training, I can make a request to the Captain and maybe he can come up with something."

Tiri nodded, "That would be helpful. I don't want to feel like this again. Chances are eventually, I'll deal with something like this…or worse."

Mayla took the soiled towel away from her and handed her the last wet one she had. "I'll talk to him about it." She threw the towel with pinpoint accuracy into the recycler. "What do you think about each team member's…reaction to Victoria's injuries? Do you think they would react differently if it were a member of the ship's crew? Or anyone they didn't know?"

"Everything was very chaotic when Victoria went down. Commander McCulloch was clearly distressed," she said. "When we met up with Union XII they were clearly very…intense. I mean, they adequately treated everyone else, but all of them were very concerned about Victoria. They are close. I can't say I've seen Union XII that ramped up over an injured team member. I mean, I get it. She is their CO and for Will, that's his ex-wife."

Now Mayla looked at her critically. "She did receive massive trauma to her leg, and was definitely life threatening. A long time ago, Victoria had gotten hurt in what seemed like a terrorist attack. Will was filled with revenge when Starfleet was unable to bring those responsible to justice. Even to the point of turning on his team mates and authorized their assassinations. He was sent to prison when he finally surrendered himself. That's why he has a provisional rank right now. Starfleet will not have him back. His presence here is…under special circumstances. And I like to think he's tempered that inner demon to keep his head during a crisis, even one of this nature."

"You cannot expect him not to react with at least some emotional attachment." Tiri said, raising her voice a bit. "She was his ex-wife!"

Mayal held up a hand to hold her tone. "Easy, Tiri, I understand that. I'm gauging whether or not we could have a repeat of what happened before. My father helped break him out of prison, even though it was primarily him who put him there. He saw something in Will that was worth saving. I am holding on to that."

Tiri nodded, then scoffed. "You did say you were becoming a lot like your father."

"In more ways than one. But I have to reflect on the events that's happened and how that affects the team. What do you think would have happened if Victoria had died at that moment? Versus another member of the team?"

Tiri shook her head, "I..I don't know. I'd like to think he would deal with the loss as anyone else would. But…I guess I see your point. He could snap. But I think he's beyond that."

"That's what I hope." Mayla said with a reassuring voice.

"You watch all of us carefully, don't you?"

"I try to," Mayla answered without hesitation. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," the Andorian said. "I just needed a good cry and a nap. Don't worry about Will, commander. He'll be alright. Commander Smith is going to pull though and they'll be back to fighting like cats and dogs in no time."

She sat up, "If you don't mind, I'm going to grab a shower and then get something to eat. Thanks for checking in on me."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.22

After finalizing his plan with the Carnora, the captain summoned Lt. Sh'avelith to his Ready Room. The Andorian, freshly showered and changed into a new uniform, arrived a few minutes later. She understandably looked tired and stressed out.

Once she was there, he sat her down and had a long conversation with her about one of the prisoners in the brig. He required someone with medical experience to pay this prisoner a visit and establish a few things that would shed some light on questions he had.

Tiri visited the brig and was there less than an hour, before she returned to report her findings to Captain Lazarus.

As Tiri sat down, she reached out and placed a small object which resembled a tiny pellet on the captain's desk. "I extracted this from Danae Nala's neck."

"What is it?" Lazarus asked, leaning forward to look at the device.

"An implant designed to throw off any attempts to scan the person with the device inside them to determine his or her true quantum signature," Tiri said. "The pellet isn't detectable by scans or even transporter filters. It took a stronger scanning device to pick it up and then I extracted it."

Lazarus nodded, "OK, that answers how she avoided detection by Tazhenkov and his colleagues. Question is now, is he also an imposter or is he from our universe?"

"If you draw blood from the subject and test the blood, it will register the true quantum signature," Sh'avleith said. "We will have to require Tazhenkov to undergo this test when we return."

"Be waiting for my call," Lazarus told her. "I'll need you to perform that test when the time comes. Good job, lieutenant."

As the Andorian headed out the door, she looked back with a concerned look, "What are we going to do with her? We're not taking her back with us, are we? She's a real piece of work."

He shook his head, "She'll be exiled here with the other prisoners. I'm not bringing them back with us and I'm not turning them over to the empire. Carry on."

When Tiri was gone, Lazarus opened a shipwide channel to the entire crew – though he made sure the prisoners in the brig were not able to hear. He did not want the prisoners to know what was being planned.

"This is Captain Lazarus. The Resurrection will be returning to our universe shortly. We have a couple of matters to tend to before we jump back," he said. "We have Terran prisoners in the brig, as well as a Mirror Carnora who came to us seeking asylum. I have decided we cannot take the prisoners, nor the Carnora, back to our universe. So I have settled on an alternative.

"We are moving into orbit of the planet Ceti Alpha V," he continued. "This Ceti Alpha V is uninhabited, alive and teeming with life. I have decided I am going to strand the prisoners on one side of the planet with shelter, supplies and weapons that will allow them to forage for themselves. I will do the same with Joshagk, on the opposite side of the planet. This will resolve the issue. I have no intention of sending the prisoners back to the empire after attacking the Resurrection and I will give Joshagk a fighting chance at a new life.

"We will arrive at Ceti Alpha V within the hour. I want the transport made as soon as possible and then we'll go back home. Lazarus out."

Not more than a minute after ending the transmission, the door chime to his ready room sounded and Lazarus called for that person to enter. It was Carmichael, and he looked concerned.

"I assume by your expression the drive repairs are not going well," Lazarus asked as Tommy came in and sat down without being prompted. Lazarus had a fleeting thought that maybe he'd become too lax on decorum around the ship.

"We can't get the dimensional transport device separated from the coaxial drive," he said. "I don't know if it will affect our next jump or not."

Lazarus grimaced and leaned back in his chair, "I'm concerned in general that the drive would just…integrate a foreign piece of technology into its structure. Are we sure this thing is not Borg?"

"There's no indication of the presence of Borg technology in the coaxial drive," said Tommy. "We would have never put it into Resurrection if we thought it was, and I don't think Lieutenant Charatetet would have made any kind of contact with it, either, never mind knowing the engine was ‘unwell.'." He made quotes with his fingers as he said the final word.

Lazarus gave a nod, "Well, do you think the drive will get us home?"

"It got us here," Carmichael stated. "There was a power fluctuation, but it made the jump."

"It did, but we were jumping within the Terran universe," the captain continued. "We don't know what will happen when we attempt a jump back to the Prime universe."

"If I had more time…"

"We're out of time, commander," Lazarus said. "I need to get us back home. Smith will need treatment at Starfleet Medical as soon as possible."

Carmichael stood up, without dismissal, and started across the Ready Room toward the door, "I'll have us ready to jump whenever you're ready. Just know, I can't guarantee the jump will be successful."

Quentin nodded, "Understood. Carry on, commander."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Lieutenant Junior Grade Reepchip Charatetet

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.22

After the prisoners had been beamed down, Captain Lazarus, Lt. Commander Ra'yral, and Lt. JG Charatetet went down to meet up with Joshagk. Ryramorl spoke to the young Usarin. "Joshagk. So here's what's going to happen. We're going to bring you to the teleporter and beam y—"

"What?! No, please, rotting guts, not the teleporter, NO!" yelled the Usarin, slamming his fists against the forcefield. "That's—that's how Shor-Talo killed Shor-Ghan! He said he'd beam his father to safety, but locked onto him with two transporter beams and ripped him apart! I… I've been scared of transporters ever since! Please, no!" As the Usarin begged and pleaded not to be beamed, Ryramorl went over to a console and flooded Joshagk's cell with a sedating gas, and the frantic Usarin soon fell unconscious.

"Well, that takes care of the explanation," said Ryramorl as the cell was flushed of the gas before the forcefield went down.

They went to round up the other prisoners, Ryramorl straining under the weight of the young Usarin. "Good lord, even skinny as a rail, these bastards weigh a ton," groaned Ryramorl.

The captain dismissed the other crew so that only those three would know exactly where Joshagk was teleported—and Reepchip set up the pattern. Joshagk was laid on a pad, and Reepchip activated the teleporter to send Joshagk…well, nowhere for now. A few keystrokes more, and the pattern had been moved to a cargo transporter. Reepchip looked at it carefully. "And looping successful," he said.

Ryramorl looked at Captain Lazarus. "...this means so much to our people," he said softly.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.22

From his ready room, Captain Lazarus confirmed the completion of the transporter activity and watched on his holographic viewer as Reepchip moved the pattern for Joshagk from the main transporter to the cargo transporter in the main cargo bay of Resurrection, which had a much greater capacity for holding a pattern long term. Once it was there, he set it to keep cycling the pattern through the buffer. If Joshagk was in there too long, his pattern would begin to degrade, but the captain hoped to have Ryramorl in a runabout on his way to the Carnora homeworld with the Mirror Carnora at his side within hours of returning to Earth.

"Lazarus to Carmichael," the captain said, opening a channel. "Status of the drive?"

"Everything looks good," the chief engineer replied.

"Very well, commander," Lazarus said. "Stand by."

The captain looked to Auriak, who had cleared her throat as Lazarus was wrapping up his talk with Tommy in engineering. She appeared to have something to say.

"What is it, ensign?"

"Sir," Auriak said. "Incoming transmission from Terra. It is a quadrant-wide message from the emperor."

Lazarus raised an eyebrow, "On screen and pipe it through shipwide."

"Aye, sir," the young ensign said.

A moment later, the image of Greg Durham appeared on the viewers and holoscreens throughout the Resurrection.

"Citizens of the empire, I come to you bearing terrible news. Our illustrious Empress Taryn Valeria Octavia Kane, only recently seated upon the Terran throne, has been killed by the treacherous Carnora while on official business to the Rogaran system.

"As Hand, I have stepped forward to see that the leadership of this empire remains strong and focused in the wake of two tragic deaths of our most recent leaders. I have proclaimed myself emperor and will hence be known as Emperor Gregory Marcus Septimus Durham. I will make it my first official action as emperor of the realm to hunt down all remaining members of the Carnora race and exterminate them from existence. I have also ordered the destruction of the penal colony on Rogaran IV following a violent uprising there which has caused the deaths of hundreds of Imperial guards."

An orbital view of the prison facility appeared on the screens followed moment later by a massive explosion which formed a massive circle of dirt and fire exploding skyward before everything collapsed back into the ground.

The viewscreen returned to the image of Durham, now wearing his crown with an imperial symbol emblazoned on the wall behind him.

"Long live the Empire!"

After that, the transmission ended.

"Mr. Carmichael," Lazarus hissed with glare as he looked away from the holoviewscreen, "get us out of this God forsaken place. Black alert!"

The ship's lighting then changed and a klaxon sounded shipwide signaling the impending jump using the coaxial drive.

When the jump occurred, the entire ship lurched and warning klaxons sounded across the bridge as the lighting failed and emergency lights flickered on, illuminating every deck.

"What is it?" Lazarus demanded.

"Drives…not responding properly….ship….caught between…universes!" Carmichael responded from engineering, just before the comms went dead.
The captain tried to get out of his seat, but a violent lurch tossed him to the deck, along with a couple other members of the bridge crew.
"Abort…jump!" the captain managed as things appeared distorted and misshapen around them.

"Helm…not responding!" Ensign Revu shouted, his voice sounding distant, then closer but distorted.

Lazarus was nearly to his feet when suddenly, the ship lurched once more, making the captain stagger and fall again. After this jolt to Resurrection, the distorted visual and audio sensation returned to normal and the lighting came back on as the ship seemed to return to normal.

Getting to his feet, his legs a little wobbly, Lazarus looked around and noted everyone was OK, though shaken. He moved to Revu's station at the helm and looked at the incoming data.

"We're…in Earth's solar system," the captain muttered. "Question is, are we home?"

The bridge speaker crackled with status suddenly, surprising everyone, and a voice followed, "USS Resurrection, this is Starfleet Command," a female voice stated. "We just picked you up on sensors at full stop. Do you require assistance?"

Lazarus smiled, "I guess that answers that question. What's our status?"

"Ship's operational and awaiting orders," Revu said. "Minor injuries shipwide. No serious damage."

"Starfleet, this is Captain Lazarus," he replied to the voice over the speaker. "We just had a rough ride home, but everything's OK. Requesting permission to orbit Earth. We have injured crew we need to transfer to Starfleet Medical."

There was silence for a moment before the scanning operator from Earth responded, "You are cleared. Welcome back, captain."

"Thanks, Starfleet," Lazarus said. "Resurrection out."

Once the transmission ended, the captain looked to Revu, "Set course for Earth. I'll be down in medical."

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.22

As the ship came back into the Prime Universe, Carmichael checked around to make sure everyone was okay. There was disagreement, however. A headcount proved everyone was anywhere from unscathed to only having minor injuries, but several crew members insisted they could sense someone was in serious distress.

Carmichael, concerned, split the crew up between those that could "sense" the distress and those who couldn't—and his heart sank. Those that could sense this distress were telepathic or empathic. The true nature of the drive was dangerously close to being out of the bag. He keyed his combadge.

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Reepchip Charatetet." He wondered what Reepchip had felt or heard.

"Charatetet is in the corridor leading to the transporter room."

"Lieutenant Reepchip Charatetet, please come to engineering." There was silence. "Charatetet, to engineering." There was still no answer.

"Carmichael to Security, please locate Lieutenant Reepchip Charatetet and bring him to Engineering."

"Ensign Rolson to Commander Carmichael. Sir, with all respect, I think Lieutenant Charatetet should go to the infirmary instead."

"Take him there, then."

"Sir, yes sir."

Carmichael let out a slow breath. "Well, that answers that question."

Commander Victoria Smith

USS Resurrection Infirmary

Stardate 2302.22

The only sound Victoria could hear was the ocean waves crashing down on the rocky shore of Birch Point in Camden, Maine. She sat with her legs crossed on a nearby stone ledge overlooking the Atlantic. Off in the distance, a two-masted schooner glided across the horizon. Occasionally, she would look at her immediate surroundings, pick up a fistful of pebbles and toss them, one by one, over the ledge and into the water below.

She closed her eyes, uncrossed her legs, leaned back on her hands and let the sun warm her for several seconds before exhaling in frustration.
"I'm only going to end up getting sunburned."

"Are you now?" Her grandfather asked, seated next to her. "Well, you are in Maine. The sun is not strong enough to burn you."

Smith scoffed. "That's not true!"

Her grandfather winked. "I guess I could never pull a fast one over you."

"You did many times when I was younger." Victoria countered. "You convinced me when I was seven flounders could come ashore and eat little red-headed girls."

He laughed loudly. "I still regret that one. Your mother was so mad because she and your dad had to carry you everywhere. I had fooled you into believing those bottom dwellers came up through the storm drains to nibble on your toes."

Victoria started giggling.

"I miss Maine." She announced.

"I do too." Her grandfather quietly announced as she avoided making eye contact with him. "I miss the salt air, the hunting, the strength of the ocean and…"

"Puffins, you miss puffins." Smith interrupted as a smile spread across her face.

"You will always be my favorite puffin." He countered, as he flashed a wry smile at his granddaughter.

She smirked. "When I was little you called me your puffin."

"I always called you that, even when you were a moody teen. I just called you ‘my puffin' behind your back."

"Why?" Victoria pressed as she smiled warmly at him. "Why did you call me that?"

"Because you were tiny and sh\*t everywhere." He replied in a mocking tone. "Just like a puffin."

"You're awful! Tell the truth!"

"Well, I must admit you were cute and energetic like a puffin, but those cute little birds are tough as hell. They face insurmountable odds trying to survive in the face of the harshest, cruelest environment. You were just like them. You may be quiet and bookish, but you are one tough Maine lady."
"I am, aren't I?"

"Colonel Chamberlain would have been proud of you."

"The ship is tacking," Smith announced, changing the subject as she watched the schooner change course.

Her grandfather watched the ship in silence before looking inland behind the pair. "She's trying to make her way to us. The captain better hurry, there's a storm coming."

"There's … there's a what now?" Victoria answered as she looked behind her to see jet-black clouds off in the distance.

"Come on, young lady," Her grandfather announced as he slowly stood up with an audible groan. "Let's take a walk along the shore before that storm hits.
Victoria stood up to follow but hesitated. She looked again at the storm clouds and then at her grandfather walking towards the water.

"I'm dying aren't I?" She asked.

"What makes you think that?" He asked as he stepped off the ledge and onto the rocky shore.

"I said goodbye to you when I was 22."

He mulled over the observation briefly before nodding at her.

"Goodbyes don't have to be forever Vicky."

"Victoria."

"Excuse me?"

"I prefer to be called Victoria."

Her grandfather chuckled slightly before mimicking her. "I prefer to be called Victoria. You sound like a Boston snob."

She folded her arms and scowled at him. After a moment, she repeated the question. "Am I dying?"

"I don't know." Her grandfather sighed. "I know you and I are here together right now. So let's enjoy the moment, shall we?"

The nurse reflected on the comment before eagerly nodding in agreement. "I would love that."

She linked arms with her grandfather as the pair crossed the beach.

"Can we stop by the Owl & Turtle Bookshop after the beach?"

"Of course. Anything for my little puffin."

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.22

Floating.

At least that was how he felt.

Floating in a dark void.

Where was he?

He couldn't tell.

Every now and then he saw movement. Was it movement?

Or were it colors?

He couldn't tell.

It happened just out of his eyesight.

When he tried to focus on it, it dissapeared.

How do you feel?

Who Said that?

Is anybody here?

Silence.

The silence is pretty

No! The silence is scary!

Who is this?

Uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable.

That's because you're dying. This is the beginning of hell.

WHO IS THIS?!?! Show yourself!!!

laughing in the distance

panic

I don't wanna die. I want to live….

Darkness. Void. Alone.

Who am I?

You are The Hand.

A traitor to the Emperor.

You don't deserve to live. You should have been thrown back in the caverns to never see the daylight again. To rot away in the darkness… .
Caverns? I remember caverns…

A face appeared. It was a beautiful face. A green face. A female face. She smiled, yet her eyes looked sad.

"Don't be sad." A voice said. "But remember me. You were my friend. " The expression on the face started to change. It looked mad and angry.
"But you failed me" The voice sounded different, harsh and cold. The face started to dissolve in the darkness. Another face formed. Another female face. It had a wicked grin and a devlish gleam in her eyes.

"You are pathetic, just like our own Thompson. He deserved to die as he was weak. And so are you! They will find you, hunt you, and kill you once they have tortured you into madness!!!! "

… . Thompson… . Who is Thompson? Am I Thompson..?

… And who are "they".... ???

A room appeared. A man in a long black coat. Pain. Endless pain. Suffering. Yelling. Screaming. Syringes.

The scene switched. A large bed with mirrors on the ceiling. Feelings of lust. A naked woman. Arousal. Heavy breathing. More women
Switch. Torturing. Enemies of the Empire. Screaming.

Switch. Fighting. In a house. A woman. She attacks with a knife. Pain. Struggle. Strangling. The woman begging for her life….

Switch. His first time on Rogaran IV, the riots, the uprising, the killing, the earthquakes…

In between all the scenes that appeared, it became clear that he WAS Daryl Thompson. Selfconsciousness returned but it felt like there was no control on all these thoughts, memories and emotions. Dozens of scenes appeared. With people he barely knew, scenes from his early days, at home, his parents, his sisters, his brother, Shadow Ops, his friend Greg, When he first met Darva, the mirror Darva. Intimate scenes with woman he didn't know, but also he DID know, glimpses of the other Daryl's thoughts and memories. Scenes of everything the mirror Daryl had experienced.

He felt like he was strapped into a rollercoaster of everything that had transpired since he has been abducted, and there was no escape. At moments, he had to suppress panic as it surfaced as he realized he might be in some sort of psychosis or different state of mind or consciousness or even a coma…..
….Daryl opened his eyes. The light hurted. In fact, all his senses felt like they were overloaded. He felt as if falling into a deep hole, and he gagged. He felt a hypospray and the dizziness slowly subsided. Yet he felt awful.

"Welcome back, Mr. Thompson" The EMH stated. Daryl had to focus, as it was still a blur, his head felt stuffed.

Slowly, the haze lifted, and he saw a woman, her eyes filled with tears. Next to her, a male human in a blue uniform, looking concerned.

"Where am I? Who are you? " Daryl asked.

"I am Dr. Joseph M'Benga, the EMH. This is Darva. Darva McGuire, your girlfriend. You are on board the USS Resurrection. You suffered severe injuries and induced brain trauma. We had to put you into a coma to prevent you sliding into a psychosis."

Another hypospray, and the haze slowly lifted. Daryl looked at the woman again, and now recognized her. "Darva…I" he said, but was cut short as Darva grabbed him and hugged him tight. All kinds of emotions overwhelmed him, but it felt good as she hugged him. It felt…familiar. He carefully hugged her as well, and noticed Darva's body shook as she was crying. He just held her until she broke loose from him and sat on the edge of the bed, softly sobbing, yet a smile on her face.

"I thought I'd lost you again…." she said. taking his hands in hers.

Daryl didn't know what to say, as tears ran down from his face. Emotions again took over. He couldn't bring out a word.

"I am sorry to interrupt," Dr. M'Benga said. "But you need to rest. Your brain is strained by everything that happened during the past period, and we need a lot of work to do before you will be ready to return to duty. For now I can say, welcome back Mr. Thompson. But there is a lot to be done and analyzed. You will need extensive therapy for everything you suffered during your time in the Mirror Universe. But for now, try to rest. I will come back later and talk in more detail about it. "

Daryl just nodded as he tried to master his emotions again.

"I will stay with him," Darva said. M'Benga nodded, and walked away.

Commander Mayla Vree

USS Resurrection, Mirror Mutara System

Stardate 2302.23

Mayla left Sh'avelith's quarters and returned her chair to her own quarters before heading to the Infirmary. It had been a few hours since they departed the penal colony and by the looks of Smith's biomonitors, she was in stable condition and the doctors were already working on the other wounded.

By the time she reacted the Infirmary, no one barred her from entry, but no one also took notice of her as she walked straight to Smith's biobed which she was completely enclosed in. Mayla looked her up and down and took note of the facial expression she now had on her face. It was quite different from the one just a few hours ago where she had already resigned herself to death.

The look she had on now was one of immense content, almost happy. Mayla took note of the drugs they were administering and knew it wasn't the only culprit for the expression.

"She's stable enough for us to get her to a medbay," the doctor came up next to her. "We did as much as we could, but she needs a fully equipped medical center."

"Will she walk again?"

"She will. There's no doubt of that. At worst, she'll get a prosthetic implant to fill in the muscles if needed. But I don't think so."
"Thank you for your work in saving her."

"Part of the job, Commander." Then his toned turned stern. "I take it that was you who tapped into our computer system here for a stream of her biomonitors?"

"Yes, that was me. I had to tend to other matters so I can keep out of your way so you can save her. But I needed to know the status of my team."
"Let me remind you that there is a reason why the infirmary's systems are protected from the rest of the ship and only authorized pers-"

Mayla's hand gestured to cut him off. "I don't need to hear it. I know what I did."

The doctor wasn't taken aback by her tone. He just shook his head. "Please don't do it again."

"I will comply." Was all she responded with. She looked over to Thompson who currently had a visitor who was sitting beside him. She walked over to him and recognized McGuire sitting with him.

Thompson was awake, but his eyes darted around a bit unfocused. "Mayla? You made it back."

"I'm glad you stayed alive long enough for us to rescue you. You can't imagine the buffalo burger withdrawals I've had since you've been gone. How are you feeling?"

"Not very well at the moment. "

Daryl said. He swallowed. He had a rough time keeping it together. It took a few moments to handle his emotions once more. Yet, he smiled at the burger reference.

"The doctor said it would take months to get me back to normal. They messed with my brain. They implanted almost the complete memory engrams of the other Daryl in my head to 'become' the Hand. It's hard to have memories who don't belong to me. "

He looked at Vree, then at Darva, then looked down, as if in shame.

"I had to do awful things to stay in my role. " He started to sob. " And then the endless torture. They killed my best friend I had there before my eyes. They slaughtered her. Just to make me talk. " Daryl broke. He just couldn't keep himself together and sobbed uncontrollably. All the thoughts, all the memories, the grief for K'Chary… it was just too much. He felt how Darva pulled him toward her to comfort him.

She looked at Vree and shook her head.

"He needs extensive therapy to give all this a place. I don't know if he will be fit for SO duty ever again. He is just too damaged of these experiences" She whispered.

Mayla watched Daryl as he talked and saw the haunted soul from before had resurfaced. After years of therapy from his previous ordeal, what happened on this mission may scar him irreparably. But only Starfleet Medical can make that determination. Or he can make his own decision about his future with the team.

"When we get back home, that's what we'll do. We'll send you to Starfleet Medical and have you treated. Whatever we have to do to repair the damage. There are always-"

Daryl shook his head wearily. "I…don't know." He couldn't meet her eyes. "I may have to leave the team."

"That has always been your decision. Don't put your loyalty to the team, or me, above your own mental wellbeing. We talked about this before. At some point you'll have to decide what is more important at this stage in your life."

"That's your father talking."

"It probably is," Mayla said without any outward reaction to the mention of her father. "He's done terrible things too, but he had five lifetimes of memories to help him through it. You don't."

"Maybe he can give me some of those memories to supplant the Hand so I can deal with…this."

Mayla gave him a smile. "You already have enough memories in there already. Any more will probably make you go mad in the end. Humans weren't meant to have more than one lifetime of experiences in their heads." Her thoughts immediately turned sour as they went straight to Victoria's own merged personality with Jiarin.

"Are we going home yet?" McGuire asked.

"The Captain will let us know as soon as it happens. I'm surprised we're still here. He was in such a hurry earlier to get us out of this universe."

Mayla put a hand on his forearm. "As soon as we get back, you're going to Starfleet Medical. I'll take you there myself if I have to. We're going to get you all the help you need. You can count on that." He looked over to Victoria who was still unconscious, knowing full well he wasn't going to be the only one she would demand to be taken to Starfleet Medical.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.23

Will had no idea how much time had passed but he was pretty sure it had to be several hours. Members of Phoenix Team insisted on keeping him company and sufficiently distracted. Occasionally other crew members and officers also checked in but quickly left.

Eventually, Will started to nod off and fell into a light sleep. When he woke up, his head throbbed, and his neck ached. He looked about, only to discover he was alone. He quickly stood up and briefly looked at his chronometer. It was after two in the morning.

McCulloch leaned against a nearby wall and looked out the viewport. Were they still in the mirror universe or back in the prime?

The Scot's musings were interrupted as he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see Warrant Officer Fiadh Hannigan of Union XII approaching directly towards him. The upper half of her nurse's uniform was stained with blood and grime. She was still wearing the lower half of her battle-scarred combat armor. However, all of that was irrelevant as Will was solely focused on her demeanor.

Fiadh Hannigan was crying.

"No, no, no." Will repeatedly sobbed as he backed away from the nurse.

Hannigan choked on her tears briefly before smiling. She then started to cry again.

"I'm so sorry Lt. Commander. These are tears of joy!" Her voice shook as she wiped her eyes and face. "Victoria Smith is alive! She's banged up pretty bad and is going to need extensive care, but she is going to survive!"

The Scot stammered and looked at Fiadh dumbfounded.

"Go!" She demanded as tears rolled down her face. "Go see the little redheaded girl. She's still unconscious but she'd want you there when she wakes."
"She…she's going to live?"

"Yes, now go!" The nurse barked as she spun McCulloch around and forcefully shoved him in the direction of the infirmary. Seconds later, McCulloch was in a full sprint running down the passageway.

Lieutenant JG Reepchip Charatetet

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.24

As the ship struggled between the two universes, Reepchip staggered at the howl the engine gave. The sensation overwhelmed him and he instinctively curled into a ball in a corner, shaking. The black alert had never affected him like this before.

He lay there, curled tightly and gave a soft moan when he heard Carmichael's voice. Could he not rest? Could he not see how the others were doing? Maybe he shouldn't have meditated…

"Ensign Rolston to Commander Carmichael. With all respect, sir, I think Lieutenant Charatetet should be in the infirmary."

Reepchip peeked up, and saw Ensign Rolston reach out to pick him up carefully. "Come on, let's go to the infirmary."

Reepchip didn't even protest being carried. "...What happened?"

"The ship had a hell of a time getting between the two universes," said Rolston. "Something's gone seriously wrong."

Reepchip was carried into the infirmary and was laid on a biobed. He admitted to having a splitting headache, but the EMH could also tell that Reepchip was also suffering from some kind of psychic shock and battle fatigue; he also wanted to make sure the Muran wasn't physically injured. The Muran looked over at Commander Victoria. "How is she?" he asked weakly.

"She'll live" said the EMH, and activated a darkened forcefield over Reepchip so the Muran could feel safe while he was scanned.

Warlord Shor-Talo Ra'yral

Chieftain's Fang

Stardate 2302.23

Shor-Talo was monitoring the communications and realized that his race's days were numbered. He gritted his teeth and clenched the railing of the bridge on the old ship. There had once been a colony on the Mutara system—now long destroyed—but the Terran Empire knew that this was where the Carnora were likely to go. He needed a place to hide, a place they would never think to look for the Carnora—he would go to the ruins of the Carnora System. There, far out in the debris field, was an ancient Gate—a Gate, it was said, that would take them to any universe they wished. A Gate that all Great Battleships, like the Chieftain's Fang, could activate.

Shor-Talo changed their course for the system. As they did, he looked through the ship's logs for any means of activating the gate. Deep in those logs, he found the last logs of one Talsyn, who had managed to activate the gate, and had never been seen again.

The ship dropped out of warp and began scanning for the gate. Once they found it, Shor-Talo tried the ancient codes shown in the logs. He took a deep breath as the gate lit up. It was working! The Gate flared to life, and the Carnora flew into it. And the first thing they heard was a ship-wide message.

"Who has entered our realm without our leave?"

Ship-Chieftain Rokkonar Do'yaran on the Aksan Ridge

Antevas System Oort Cloud, near the old Khyrrian InterUniversal Gate

The Stone Guardian

Stardate 2302.23

Rokkonar stared out the viewport as the stars seemed to drift eternally to the left–not that they were moving like that, it was just the result of the ship's spin. As the ship spun, he saw the glint of a massive ring in the distance—the ancient Gate that the Khyrrians had once built in the Age of Wonders—a Gate that still worked, although rarely used. As he watched, he saw it flicker—then light up. Something had activated it.

He was puzzled—why would the Khyrrians use the gate without letting the Carnora know? Why use it at all, the Khyrrians' ships could now flit from universe to universe as they pleased. He turned to his Comm officer to contact the Overseer for an explanation, but the officer said "Chieftain! We're being hailed."

"Activate the communications device!"

The picture had not begun to form when the voice of the Overseer ordered, "Prepare yourselves! Intruders!"

"Shields up! Energy weapons at the ready! Position ship to broadside."

The gate flared to life, and a hulking ship blasted—no, tumbled through it. It spun strangely, as if on all three axis.

"Contact the ship! Tell them to stand down or we shall fire on them."

"... no response sir."

The tactical officer, who was scanning the ship, looked up. "Ship is badly damaged. Looks like our masters weren't happy with them." Rokkaran looked at the Overseer, whose visage could now be seen. "Who are they?" he asked.

"Carnora from another universe, who rebelled against our rule and caused their own fall into barbarity. They are yours to do with as you will."

As the other ship stabilized, Rokkaran hailed them again. "This is Ship-Chieftain Rokkaran Do'yaran on the Aksan Ridge. STAND DOWN or we will fire on you!"

"This is warlord Shor-Talo Ra'yral of the Chieftain's Fang. Stand down or we will–" here the warlord went into a coughing fit.

More ships showed up, and the Chieftain's Fang was surrounded.

"I would order you to lower your shields, but even those are offline. We are sending boarding parties. Resist, and you will be destroyed."

The boarding parties took Cutter Shuttles to the Chieftain's Fang, so named because they would seal themselves to a ship, cut out sections of the hull, and allow troops to be deployed (most these days even had special welders to reattach the removed pieces).Wherever they went, they discovered the ship was in bad shape. There were maybe 2000-3000 Carnora Warriors left—many injured. On the bridge, Shor-Talo could only watch as the massive ships surrounding the Chieftain's Fang took surgical shots at them, frying what few weapons the Chieftain's Fang had left. When the soldiers blew in the doors of the bridge, Shor-Talo snarled, placing his claws at his throat. "I will die before I become your prisoner," he snarled.

Ship-Chieftain Rokkaran's son Raganyor, who was leading the team that breached the bridge, calmly raised his firearm and sent a beam through Shor-Talo's head. "So be it," he said.

With the Mirror Carnora Warriors dead or captured, the boarding parties went through the ship. When Raganyor overrode a panel and entered a sealed chamber, the sight nearly brought him to his knees. Staring dully at him were a hoard of female Carnora, but that wasn't what held his gaze. What he saw were hundreds of leathery sacks. Birthing sacks. Crawling here and there, avoiding him were small Olverns. Females. Young. He contacted his father. "Chieftain. We have enough young here to give every crew member on your ship a hundred cubs," he reported. They looked roughed-up, and some were genuinely injured, but Raganyor knew that there were so many young his tribe couldn't take them in at all.

Another soldier reported that another chamber had contained the same thing—females by the dozen and young by the hundreds.

Rokkaran took a deep breath and turned to the Overseer. "Though the laws say you can only watch, in this I surrender my authority to you."

"I will see what The Emperor has to say."

Commander Mayla Vree

USS Resurrection, Earth

Stardate 2302.25

She watched the doctors and nurses from Starfleet Medical buzz around in the small infirmary, prepping Smith and Thompson for their beam out to the surface. Several times, the Infirmary nurses tried to shoo her out, but Mayla stood firm and glared at anyone who attempted to even suggest it again.
"Are you still insisting on going down with them?" The CMO of the Resurrection asked, coming up to her.

"I am their CO, I AM going down with them."

"As you wish," he gestured to the team lead to indicate Mayla was going down with them. "Does the Captain know?"

"I sent him a message. When the ship is ready to leave, I will beam back up."

He gave her a nod. "They are in good hands."

"They were also in good hands, Doctor. Thank you." Mayla said before walking over to the team.

Within a minute, they had beamed straight to Starfleet Medical's triage pad and the team was quickly taken to their respective rooms. Because she wasn't part of the medical staff, she had to wait outside and can only wait for the doctor's diagnosis on both of them.

That's when she realized that she still had her sidearms strapped to her leg. Weapons were strictly regulated within the hospital, and she had just violated that ordinance. While she was going to wait anyway, she headed to down to the security front desk.

Before she even got there, two security officers already flanked her on her way. "Commander, you must relinquish your weapons."

Mayla held up her hands. "I was just on my way to turn them in. I came in on the triage padd and forgot."

The officers removed her two weapons and walked her to the front desk, where she signed for their storage until she left. She apologized and had just turned around to return to the lift when a tall thin man came up to her.

"Commander Vree, I never expected to see you here."

She turned around and gave the doctor she immediately recognized a smile. "Hello Dr. Bashy, how are you?"

Doctor Julian Bashir held out his hand in greeting. "I'm doing well. How are things going on your new assignment?"

Mayla was surprised that he knew. "This last away mission was difficult, a few of my away team was seriously wounded. That's why I'm here."

"I'm sorry to hear about that. I'll make it a note to look in on them first chance I get."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Are you on your way up there now?"

"Yes. I was just down here to relinquish my weapons. I came in on the triage transporter pad."

"How about I go up there with you?"

Mayla started following him without any hesitation as he led the way without actually waiting for her to respond.

## S5, E2, Act 2: The Return

Commander Victoria Smith

USS Resurrection Infirmary

Stardate 2302.25

Victoria gleefully perused the fiction section of the Owl & Turtle Bookshop while her grandfather watched her. As she slowly walked down each aisle, she let her fingers run along the spine of each book. Eventually, she found the book she sought and began clapping excitedly. She smiled widely at her grandfather as she pulled the book from the shelf.

"Victor Hugo's Les Miserables," He observed. "It is your favorite."

Smith pulled the book to her chest and carefully cradled it. "I love this book."

"I seem to recall you were very fond of Inspector Javert."

Rather than answer, the nurse nodded in agreement before thumbing through the work. She heard a rumble as she skimmed the passages describing Valjean and Cossette fleeing to Paris. Victoria looked out through the book shop's display window towards the harbor. The schooner in the distance was still tacking in the wind but was rapidly approaching the harbor docks. To her west, the storm clouds were also closing in.

Her grandfather sighed loudly. "Well, puffin, it's time to go."

"Can I buy the book?"

He paused for a moment before smiling. "Of course."

"Where are we going next?" Victoria asked as she handed the book to the clerk.

"To the docks."

"The docks?" She asked as she looked over in confusion

"It's time to go home puffin."

"Home? Are we going to see nana?"

"No Vicky, it's time for you to go home," He answered warmly.

Smith frowned slightly as the announcement that she had to leave her grandfather troubled her.

"So soon?" She protested as the pair left the bookstore. Victoria quickly linked arms with him as they walked towards the water. Occasionally droplets of rain splattered on the ground before them.

"We'll see each other again, I promise." He softly countered. "In the meantime, you have many great things to do, and we need to get you on board that ship before the storm hits."

"What if I want to stay, grandpa?" She pressed.

He stopped in his tracks, rested his hands on her shoulders, and looked at her. "It's not time. You have accomplished so much and I am so very proud of you. More than you will ever know. But you can't stay because you were meant to achieve something even greater in the future.."

Victoria smiled weakly as she looked at the schooner pulling up to the dock.

"I'll always be with you, my dear granddaughter." He said before a bright light enveloped her. She blinked rapidly several times before her eyes refocused and she found herself staring up at the ceiling of the Resurrection's infirmary. The sedatives and pain killers the biobed were administering quickly overwhelmed her.

"She's alert!" Fiadh Hannigan announced as she and other members of the Resurrection's medical team were transferring her to Starfleet Medical's triage team.

"I'm a puffin!" Victoria slurred.

"You're a bloody loon." The Irish warrant officer sarcastically answered as she examined the dosage of meds being administered to her before nodding to a surgeon rushing towards her.

"I've contacted Doctor Grani ch'Sonne and has assured us that he will personally oversee her care," he announced.

Hannigan nodded in understanding as she and Ensign Hixwir Gace stepped out of the way to allow members of the triage team to take over.

From the corner of the pad, William McCulloch watched nervously. Vree had insisted the Scot accompany the emergency beam out to Starfleet Medical.

He felt a hand on his arm pulling him aside and backing him away from the pad. He only glanced to see who it was and caught himself from pulling away from his commanding officer.

"Stay out of the way and let them do their work," she said, keeping a firm grip on his arm to keep him from leaving his spot. At that moment, the newly arrived doctor and nurses had both Victoria and Thompson under their care. Everyone could hear Victoria's drowsy voice just as she was whisked away.

"I'm like a Maine puffin!"

"She's as high as a kite." Gace whispered to Hannigan.

"God bless sedatives," Fiadh answered quietly. "And we're not going to let her forget the puffin comments anytime soon."

From his position, McCulloch couldn't help but slightly laugh before wiping tears away from his eyes. Nurse Victoria Smith would live.

"Return to the Resurrection, you shouldn't even be here Will," Mayla ordered. "Go get cleaned up and prepare your reports. I'll send for you as soon as I can."

"Ma'am." He nodded in deference before contacting the Resurrection for beam out.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.26

Will returned to his quarters completely exhausted. He knew he should shower and rest but was too on edge to follow those instincts.
The fight to take out the gun emplacements, his torture at the hands of the Mirror Universe Dr. Smith, the rapid withdrawal from the administrative building and the devastating injury to Victoria all played in his head over and over again.

The Scot eyed the Pickering whiskey bottle on a shelf across from him. He debated whether to crack it open and consume its contents. After a moment, he scoffed at the notion of getting drunk and, instead, stood up and made his way to the washroom and sonic shower. He wearily pulled off his gear and clothing, tossed them aside and hobbled into the shower. Once he had removed the dirt and grime from his body, he limped to his bedroom, opened a closet door, and retrieved a fresh uniform and underwear. He dressed quickly and returned to the main living area of his quarters.

Will looked about seconds for several before locating the pair of padds he had been looking for. He stared at the two devices for quite some time as he replayed Victoria's attack repeatedly in his mind. It was his fault she had been exposed and vulnerable to a flank attack. If only he hadn't been so damned focused on getting back to the ship rather than focus on the safety of his team … especially a combat nurse who had little to no experience as a special forces operative.

McCulloch began to choke on his tears as he thought about what could have happened if the wounded Carnora had not been on the receiving end of Smith's disruptor. He physically began to shake and his vision tunneled. The Scot quickly breathed in and out to slow the panic attack. He tried desperately to focus on the positive, including that Victoria was alive, Daryl was rescued and they were back in the prime universe.

After several minutes McCulloch was able to calm himself down. He stood up straight and retrieved the pair of padds. Afterward, he went to the ship's mess hall to get something to eat.

Will took a few bites of his replicated turkey pot pie before tossing the fork down and pushing the tray away from him. He had no appetite. He sighed loudly as he retrieved the first of the two padds and examined its contents. He quickly scoffed in disbelief and tossed the device onto the table.
It was a formal petition to Captain Lazarus asking that his "provisional" rank be upgraded to the official rank of Lt. Commander. McCulloch had written the request in the days after Tiri had encouraged him to do so, but he never submitted it.

Now, this document was coming back to haunt him. He promised himself he would destroy the petition … and the padd …when he returned to his quarters after completing his reports.

Will quickly picked up the second device and began to write his mission summary report. The entire operation was a damn cluster. Nevertheless, he made it a point to include praise for the conduct of both Lieutenants Sh'avelith and Charatetet in the field. He also applauded Commander Smith for her undercover role during the mission. He knew his report might not carry much weight with those above his pay grade, but at least there would be an official record highlighting their bravery.

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.26

The ship warped, groaned, lights flickered, reality distorted—and snapped back to normalcy. Ryramorl had to brace himself against the wall to keep from being thrown to the floor while the ship shuddered from one universe to the other.

When the ship returned to normal, Ryramorl was about to ask what happened—then realized there was something else he needed to check on. He hurried to the unused cargo bay transporter, praying that Joshagk was okay.

The glow of the transporter could be seen. Ryramorl quickly checked the settings, and it was working fine—so far as he could tell, anyways. He headed back to the ship. Having to cover up Joshagk's hiding meant he'd not been able to check on Victoria. He headed towards the infirmary, where he saw many teary-eyed medics. He took a deep breath. "Is Commander Smith amongst the Grey Tribes, then?" he asked quietly.

"No…" said Fiadh Hannigan, smiling through her tears. "She'll make it. She's been transferred to Starfleet Medical for better treatment."

Ryramorl rumbled in relief.

"Your friend Reepchip is in here, though," she said, gesturing to the biobed. "I guess the ship fighting its way from one universe to the other had a really bad effect on him."

Ryramorl nodded. "Then I'll be at his side."

"Actually, you'll be on a biobed yourself. What the hell happened to you!?"

Ryramorl then realized he'd not escaped the fight with his counterpart unscathed, if the claw marks on his body were any sign. "You think I look rough? You should see the other guy," he said, shifting his stance to something more arrogant.

Hannigan drew a sharp breath at such a macho statement. "Take your shirt off and lay down," she said, exasperated. When he had done so, she started scanning him.

It took some time, but the Irish nurse finally finished scanning Ryramorl, who was starting to give her a hard time.

"If you're just going to wave fancy toys around instead of sewing me up, then let me at the replicator; I'll get a needle and thread, and do it myself," growled the Olvern.

Slightly frustrated, she slapped her tricorder shut and eyed him carefully. "Commander Smith says you're the fresh one," She announced before holding up a laser cutter and waving it at him. "So, are we going to be a good wee lamb? Or will you continue to be so mouthy that I'll need to carve you up like Saturday's dinner to teach you a lesson?"

Ryramorl grumbled slightly at Fiadh.

She cocked her head slightly to the left and briefly smirked before rocking the device side to side in her hand. "Something to say Lt. Commander?" Try me ‘Mr. I'm too tough to notice my injuries'. I've got all day to make you miserable in this biobed."

Fiadh tried her best not to laugh. She knew Victoria would murder her if she knew the warrant officer was being overly fresh herself towards Ryramorl.
"Pfft. YOU make me miserable?" Ryramorl grinned at her. "I don't see how you could. You still have all your hair, your skin's as soft as a fresh-hatched cub, and your face is still pretty enough for a ruler's harem. If you were a proper healer on my homeworld, you'd have no hair left, your skin would be tougher than armour and look like leather that cured wrong, and your face alone would scare disease away." He grinned roughly. "Heck, even your medicines taste like juice for cubs. A proper healing brew should require a stone vessel, because it eats right through pottery."

From his darkened biobed, Reepchip chimed in. "It's said that the Junnha Clan healer went to pour her medicine into a volcano on Agavan. The volcano immediately closed up, because even HE didn't want to taste it."

Ryramorl chuckled. "Now are you gonna patch me up already? I got business on Carnor."

"I'll give you a choice. Dermal regenerator, or needle and thread. I can promise the latter will be a LOT more uncomfortable," threatened Hannigan.
"Hm. Do I make the choice of a witless, preening courtier who is an expert judge of Besgin Steak and is terrified of the merest scratch and choose the treatment that will keep my pelt all perfect, smooth, and unsullied by any trace of valour; or do I make the choice of a warrior who has learned to suck it up and choose the treatment that will leave a record of my glorious battle? Such a hard choice." Ryramorl's grin broadened. "I'd imagine you're a bit out of practice with the needle and thread, so if you want I can stitch up the first wound to show you how it's done." He looked her in the eye.
"What? You think I've never had to sew myself up before?"

From the darkened bio-bed nearby, Reepchip could be heard giggling.

Fiadh sighed audibly as she wondered whether her eyes would roll to the back of her head if she heard one more declaration of bravery from Ryramorl. She quickly looked over at Reepchip who was still snickering.

"Quiet you or you'll be next" She scolded before returning to her patient. "Maybe I should start by shaving off your pelt."

The Carnora merely continued to grin at her. Hannigan, in turn, stared back before looking around and speaking to no one in particular.

"This is part of a prank right?" She asked. "Someone put him up to this? Anyone?"

Having received no answer, she turned her attention back to her patient.

"Needle and thread are too good for a warrior." She suddenly announced.

Ryramorl cocked his head and looked at the nurse with slight confusion. "What are you proposing?"

"Surgical staple gun," Fiadh answered as she stepped away and walked towards a nearby medical cabinet. Seconds later, she retrieved the device and loaded it with a sleeve of sterile skin staples. She quickly looked over her shoulder at him, flashed a wicked grin, held up the device and waved it at him. "Ready big guy? Or would you like to call somebody to stroke your paw while I staple your wounds and mouth shut?"

"Ah, one of those," said Ryramorl. "Let me see it." He took it from her, held a gash on his abdomen closed with one paw, while he drove a staple into his skin using the other. He didn't even grunt. "I'll have to ask for help with my arm. I don't have three hands," he stated. Then he paused.
"Whoops. I should have shaved the area first. Apologies, I haven't done this in a while." He looked Hannigan in the eye, gripped the staple in his claws, and ripped it out. He bared his teeth slightly as he did it, but otherwise showed no pain. "Razor, please." He figured he'd made it clear that he hadn't been bluffing about needle and thread. "Let's get this over with. I'm beginning to realize that, yes, these wounds hurt a bit."
Hannigan stared at him.

"Look, healer," said Ryramorl, his grin vanishing as he became completely serious. "I grew up in an Ancient Tribe—those are the tribes that have remained in the Stone Age. I've got wounds that were cauterized, wounds that have been stitched, bones that have been set, and my people do not use anesthetic. I've had to fend off a Feral Olvern, I've gotten scorched by fire, branded, I had my chest ripped open by a Horgenhar's horns"— he traced his paw over a massive scar on his chest—"by the way, this was cauterized; I had to run for my life with almost no food during the Jem'Hadar invasion, I've been trained as a warrior by males who believe that the first thing to do is toughen up a youngster. I went through military training, had fights with SEVERAL terrorist cells, gotten shot"—he tapped the patch on his eye—"several times, been in the middle of a barroom brawl between two rival gangs, and to top it all off this is NOT the first time I've been in a tooth and claw fight." His grin returned. "And you're using a surgical staple gun to threaten me?" He thumped his bloody arm on a table. "Let's do this." He had deliberately chosen the arm that had his prominent brands on it.
"You're just trying to show off." Fiadh scoffed as she debated whether to plant a staple between the Carnora's eyes. After deciding that such a course of action would result in too many reports, she began stapling his arm.

Again Ryramorl gestured towards his brands.

"Are you trying to flirt with me Lieutenant Commander by showing off your cute tattoos?" She quipped before flashing a smile. "Perhaps I should put a call into your mate to see what she thinks."

The nurse continued stapling his wounds shut. Hannigan had met many guys who had a tough-guy attitude. For most, that bravado melted away in an instant when they started getting poked with sharp things, and the tougher they talked, the more they complained. However, Ryramorl was in that rare group for whom such talk was no mere bluster. He simply calmly watched her do her work with not so much as a twitch, and even helped hold one of the larger wounds closed. Once finished, she studied their work.

"Oh these are going to leave nasty scars," Hannigan announced. "But I suppose you want that, don't you?"

Ryramorl simply nodded with approval. "Are we done?"

"Almost," Fiadh answered as she tapped several keys on the biobed. Seconds later, a containment field surrounded the Carnora, thereby trapping him.
"What is this?" He demanded.

"A time out," She replied with a giggle.

"A what?"

"I'll release you eventually," she announced while putting her equipment away. "Tough guy your way out of this one, sir."

She spun on her heels and started to exit the infirmary. On her way out, she quietly asked Ensign Gace to release Ryramorl after fifteen minutes.
As she passed Reepchip, an evil grin spread across her face. "If you release him before his sentence is over, I'll have McCulloch tag and beam you to a place where you won't be found for weeks."

Ryramorl growled. "Kindly let me go. I have business on Carnor and my transport will arrive soon." He shifted uncomfortably. "And besides, I don't think I can hold myself for another fifteen minutes." Hannigan could tell the movement and discomfiture of one who needed to use the commode—soon.
Fiadh sighed and returned to the biobed. She felt bad and wondered if she had pushed this game too far. She quickly tapped a series of keys, thereby lowering the containment field. Afterward she gestured towards the exit with her head.

"C'mon tough guy."

"Where are we going?" Ryramorl demanded.

"Let's grab something down in the mess hall before you go. I'll pay."

He stood up with a massive grin. "You know, I could have tough-guyed my way out of that," he said, "but I decided deceit involving bodily functions would be more effective."

Fiadh rolled her eyes. "Deceit, right. You nearly soiled yourself."

"Keep telling yourself that," said Ryramorl, his alleged need vanishing as soon as he stood up.

If there hadn't been a forcefield over Reepchip's bed, the muran would have been rolling on the floor.

Ryramorl was also laughing as he led Fiadh to the mess hall.

Commander Mayla Vree

Starfleet Medical, Earth

Stardate 2302.28

"The waiting is the same if you stand there or sit down, Mayla." Came the soothing accented voice of the genetically enhanced doctor.

It may have looked like Mayla was just standing there staring through the window of the door into the ER unit, but she was actually writing her after actions report. And keeping an eye on what was going on inside. She was almost tempted to tap into the video feed that no doubt was running inside. She took a quick stroll down the hall to look through the windows of the wards taking care of Thompson and Darht. Then she returned and sat down next to Julian Bashir.

"I like to think my entitic presence would help the aura surrounding her draw inner strength from me to heal herself, and the others." Mayla said in a serious flat tone.

Bashir looked at her with wide eyes. "I beg your pardon? Are you serious?"

"Just seeing if you still have a sense of humor."

He let out a light chuckle and shook his head. "I think you've been talking to Ezri too much."

"Not much. And not often." Mayla leaned back and relaxed a bit. Bashir looked her over with a critical eye. "I've been busy."

"Ah, I see. Busy with the burden of duty or the burden of legacy?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mayla sat up and glared at him.

"Kira called me the other day."

Mayla looked away and shook her head. "And?"

"She's looking for your father."

"Tell her I wish her luck."

"She wants you to get a message to him."

"Yes, I know. She's sent me several messages to forward to him. And I have."

"He hasn't responded."

Mayla shrugged. "That's between Kyril and Kira. I'm just the daughter. An adopted daughter, at that."

"You know you're more than that." Bashir folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. "To both of them."

"Then maybe she shouldn't have lied to Ky about ordering Bravo Squad to commit the mass murder of an entire Cardassian village under the guise of a terrorist cell on Bajor."

"You heard about that." He said.

"Word got around," she answered cryptically. "But like I said before, it's between Kyril and Kira."

Bashir was stuck between a rock and a mountain. He looked at the trill sadly. "So that's how it's going to be, this awkwardness between you and Kira because of your father."

"Partially."

"What can Kira do so you'll speak to her again?" Bashir asked.

"Relinquish her command. Resign her commission. She should represent Bajor, not the Federation AND Bajor. She is no good in that position."

Bashir was taken aback at the bold suggestion. He was going to rebuke it, but changed his mind. He was only the messenger. "Is that what you really want me to tell her?"

Mayla brooded for a moment before letting go of the grudge and anger for the moment. "And tell her that I miss her."

Silence ensued between them as they continued to wait. Mayla then continued writing her after actions report in her eyes.

Commander Victoria Smith

Starfleet Medical

Stardate 2302.28

Victoria slowly opened her eyes and blinked several times. The sedatives were still clouding her senses, and it took more than a few minutes to be sure she wasn't back in Maine with her grandfather.

An Andorian surgeon and human female physician's assistant approached her biobed. They began asking her basic medical questions ranging from counting backward to describing her day-to-day activities.

Victoria slowly slurred her answers to the pair's satisfaction. Afterward, Dr. Grani ch'Sonne ordered a nurse to lower the containment field of the biobed.

The physician assistant leaned forward, shined a light in each of Victoria's eyes, and studied how the pupils reacted. Afterward, she examined the nurse's bruised face and rib cage. Once satisfied, she nodded in deference to the doctor.

ch'Sonne slapped a hypospray against Victoria's neck and squeezed the trigger. Afterward, he pulled the sheets of the biobed back before lifting the lower half of Smith's gown. He visually examined the scars of the Carnora bite and the resulting surgical scars. Afterward, he pressed down firmly on the injury. Victoria winced before grunting in pain.

"That's good," He noted. "If she can feel that then the nerves in her leg were saved."

"How bad am I banged up?" Victoria slowly asked.

The Andorian smiled slightly before sitting down on the edge of the biobed.

"Commander, I'll give you the bad news before the good news."

Victoria looked around to see if Mayla, Will or Fiadh was present. None of them were there. She sighed sadly to herself before nodding in the affirmative. "Go ahead."

The doctor studied her momentarily before gesturing for the physician's assistant to enter notes on a padd. Afterward, he spoke.

"You are damn lucky to be alive, Commander." He warned. "The fact that you survived is the direct result of the dedicated work of Lieutenant Sh'avelith in the field and the combined efforts of the Resurrection's EMHs and Union XII while transporting you here."

"Tiri saved me?"

"Yes, she played a major part in saving your life."

"I see." Victoria answered as she tried to replay the cavern attack in her mind … but she could not. The sedatives were still clouding her short-term memories. "What are my injuries?"

The Andorian nodded in response to the question. "Of course. You received a concussion. Your right orbital bone was shattered due to the Carnora backhanding you and your jaw was fractured. You have six broken ribs, a fractured hip and bruises all over your body."

Smith watched the doctor momentarily before asking the obvious. "What about the bite?"

"It nearly killed you. Your femur was snapped into three pieces, your leg muscles at the bite radius were either torn away or significantly damaged. The nerves of your leg, as well as the arteries, were severed. Finally, the rapid blood loss significantly strained your vital organs."
Smith simply stared at the doctor in stunned silence before breaking down and crying. The Andorian looked back at his assistant, who glared and shook her head in disapproval.

"I told you that your bedside manners still need improvement." She snapped as she moved to comfort Victoria.

"I'm sorry Elsa, I thought I was being gentle with my approach."

"Am I going to lose my leg?" Smith asked as she gasped and choked on her tears.

"No, no!" Elsa answered. "Dr. ch'Sonne was able to save the leg."

"The worst you are looking at is perhaps artificial muscles being implanted, but it's too soon to tell."

"Will…will I walk again?"

Elsa looked over at ch'Sonne and nodded.

"I'm not going to lie, Commander Smith." The doctor calmly replied. "You will walk, but you're out of commission for quite some time."

"I am?"

"Yes. You will need at least nine to twelve months of physical therapy and follow-up treatment. After that, you'll probably be restricted to an overwatch role with Union XII until Starfleet gives you the all-clear."

There was an awkward silence before Victoria began to cry even louder.

"My career is over? What is going to happen to Union XII?"

"I didn't say your career is over," ch'Sonne protested as Elsa eyed him suspiciously again. "It's only on pause while you heal. Dr. Bashir will speak with you about your options and the future of Union XII."

Smith simply sobbed louder.

"Give her an additional sedative. She's getting too upset." ch'Sonne gestured for Elsa to retrieve a nearby hypospray. She loaded a cartridge into it and pressed it against Smith's neck. Moments later, Victoria started to calm down.

"You said you had good news?" The nurse asked as she quietly cried and shifted slightly in her biobed.

"Ah, yes of course," the Andorian eagerly answered. "I see no reason why Commander Smith can't have visitors right now." ch'Sonne announced. "I think a few friends and companions would do her some good."

"Not too many," Elsa warned. "Three to five at a time so she doesn't get overwhelmed. I believe there is a Commander waiting outside ever since we beamed her down from her ship,"

The Andorian doctor continued. "Well, by all means let them in. Ms. Smith, is there anyone else you would like us to …"

"Will, Mayla, Tiri and Fiadh!" Victoria blurted out in quick succession as her green eyes became wide.

"Elsa, make it so." ch'Sonne ordered. "Let's be sure to keep Ms. Smith's spirits up as much as possible."

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2302.28

"This is the audio log of Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael, Chief Engineer USS Resurrection, Stardate 2302.28.

"The ship barely got us back to the Prime Universe. We almost got stuck between universes and I don't want to even think about what would have happened if we did.

"Just before the mission to the Mirror Universe, we installed something called a transdimensional device. To our shock, the Coaxial drive bonded with it. Not only that, we learned that it bonded with the whole ship. When we used it to go to the Mirror Universe though… That's when things went wrong. We got to the Mirror Universe well enough, though I understand the mission was almost a disaster. We lost one medic, and a number of operatives came back in really bad shape. It was during a jump that we realized something was wrong. We had a power fluctuation and the jump took a second instead of being instantaneous.

"If that wasn't bad enough, Lieutenant Junior Grade Reepchip Charatetet contacted me and said the ship was feeling, and I quote, ‘unwell'. This concerns me deeply.

"Lieutenant Charatetet swears he can sense what the ship is feeling. I found this out when I asked the MadCaps to install the new drive. Daven Corhees said Reepchip was staying out of engineering because the ship was angry with him for looking at the drive.

"Captain Lazarus demanded to know why Reepchip didn't say he could feel the ship's personality. Apparently Reepchip's people believe all ships and stations have a spirit of some kind, and he didn't see the need to report what is completely normal to him. He even believes Umbra One has a spirit, he just hasn't met it yet. He was placed under strict orders to report any communication with the ship. So when he sensed the ship was feeling ‘unwell', he reported that to me and the captain.

"Shortly thereafter, I sensed Reepchip was looking for me—some sort of telepathic call, I guess. Good thing I opened the door to Engineering when I did, or Reepchip would have crashed into it. That guy can MOVE when he's frantic. He'd been meditating and asked the ship what was wrong, and he had gotten an actual message from the ship. That message was, and again I quote, ‘Get. It. Out.' We decided the transdimensional device was the most likely culprit, and… yeah. Seems the Coaxial Drive is regretting integrating with it.

"We still had to get home, so we dared make the jump and almost didn't make it.

"What concerns me now is that every telepath in Engineering swears up and down they sensed someone in distress. I've interviewed every single one of them, but nobody can tell me who they sensed, only that whoever it was was in trouble. I asked Reepchip to come in and give an account of what he felt, but Security Officer Kyle Rolston tells me he found Reepchip balled up in a corner and shivering. That's answer enough for me.

"But we're home, reasonably safe, so I'm going to dock this ship for repairs. I'm submitting a request to allow Reepchip to be there when the transdimensional device is disconnected and that whatever weird ritual he wants to perform not be questioned, so long as it stays within Federation Law.
"I'm also sending a copy of this log to Admiral Clancy and Captain Lazarus.

"End Log."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

USS Resurrection, Orbiting Earth

Stardate 2302.28

Lazarus walked out of his ready room and found himself immediately confronted by his Denobulan first officer. Sornax appeared agitated and Lazarus cringed to think what his problem was going to be this time.

"Captain, am I to understand you are authorizing Commander Ra'yral to take a runabout from Umbra Prime and go to the Carnora homeworld on his own?" Sornax asked.

"You are," Lazarus said. "Those are my orders."

Sornax frowned, "May I ask why, sir?"

"He is overdue for a report to his superiors," Lazarus said. "So, please make haste in sending him on his way."

"You want the runabout flown here by a member of the Umbra Prime staff?" the Denobulan asked. "Why can't this wait until we return to Prime ourselves?"
Lazarus became suddenly irate, "Because those are my orders! Is there a problem, commander?"

"It just seems…irregular, captain," Sornax said. "I question if there is some issue here I should know about or understand better…"

"Commander Sornax, carry out my orders now," Lazarus growled . "That will be all."

Sornax hesitated at first, then bowed his head slightly, "Yes, sir."

The captain sidestepped around him and headed down to the transporter room. On his way, Quentin queried the computer on the whereabouts of Commander Vree, only to learn she'd beamed down to Starfleet Medical.

Lazarus frowned, "Lazarus to Jahkar and Sh'avelith, meet me in the transporter room. Lt. Sh'avelith, bring your medkit."

At the transporter room, the two Shadow operatives arrived and the captain met them with a grim stare. Something was definitely wrong, the captain was more serious than usual, they both noticed.

"You two will be my escorts to Starfleet Intelligence, Lazarus stated. "We are going to confront Commander Tazhenkov and I want you there to make sure he doesn't try anything."

Jahkar frowned, "Try anything?"

"There is a question of whether he may have been replaced by his Mirror counterpart," Lazarus said. "The lieutenant here will administer a blood test to determine if he is from our universe or the other."

They stepped up onto the transporter pad and waited for the operator to beam them down…

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

USS Resurrection, infirmary

Stardate 2302.28

Just as Daryl wanted to reply to his CO, the ship lurched aside violently. Emergency forcefields prevented him and Darva from being thrown off their beds, but Mayla was thrown on her knees. Reality distorted for a few moments. It looked for a second as if the infirmary was stretched several miles long, and sounds echoed in a strange way. The ship lurched again, then everything returned to normal.

"What the friggin heck was that! " Daryl whispered, while checking on Darva.

Vree got on her feet again.

"I guess the dimensional drive ran into some issues" Mayla stated.

Daryl exhaled. For a moment he thought they were attacked by the Terrans, and panic grabbed him by the throat for that moment.

"Everything is fine Daryl" Vree said. "We're back in our universe, near Earth. Starfleet Medical is on its way.

Daryl just nodded. As if concerted, Starfleet Medical crew and doctor's beamed in and quickly, the infirmary was crowded. Daryl looked at Darva, and smiled. " See you soon, love." He said. She answered with a kiss. At least three nurses and 2 doctors were standing around his bed. Scanning, checking, asking questions. It all went fast, and within minutes, Daryl beamed over to Starfleet Medical. He materialized in a light room, together with two of the nurses. They kept on scanning and making reports until one of the doctors came in, followed by a woman. The doctor had a short conversation with the nurses, then he approached Daryl, the woman following in his wake.

"Mr. Thompson. Welcome to Starfleet Medical. " The Doctor said.

"I am Dr. Elias Thorpe, head of Neurology & Neurogenics. How are you feeling?

"Very strange. " Daryl stated. "Haunted. Not myself, literally"

Thorpe nodded, looking on his padd.

"You've been through quite some devastating experiences, Mr Thompson. But we will get you back in shape. It might take quite some time, and you will have to work hard. " He sighed. "But you've been through this already once…"

"We will soon conduct some tests and scans. Also, we will have an extensive interview about what has transpired. That will be scheduled for tomorrow. Until then you will be monitored, physically and mentally. Do you agree with that? "

Daryl nodded, "Yeah, that's ok, I guess"

"To be very clear, since we don't know your exact status, you are to stay in your room until further notice."

Daryl nodded again. "I understand."

Thorpe nodded " Good. I would like to introduce Joanna Parag. She is a Betazoid and she will be your mental coach during your stay here."

Joanna nodded politely towards Daryl.

"Nice to meet you, Daryl" She said.

Daryl just nodded. He felt already awkward for everything that she would come to know about regarding his experience in the Mirror Universe…

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh'avelith

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2303.01

Jahkar and Sh'avelith encountered one another on their way to meet the captain in the transporter room. When they met at the juncture of two corridors, they fell in step together and continued on to their appointment with the ship's master.

"A meeting in the corridor," Tiri smiled. "Sounds like the gist of our entire relationship."

"It wasn't really a relationship," Jahkar muttered.

Tiri nodded, "Fair enough."

The marine turned to the Andorian and raised an eyebrow, "Any idea what this is about?"

Sh'avelith nodded, "I'll let the captain explain."

They stepped through the sliding doors into the transporter bay and found Captain Lazarus there with Ensign Rolston manning the controls.
"Good," Lazarus said. "Let's go."

"What's this about, captain?" Jahkar asked.

"Our Danae Nala was killed and replaced with her Mirror Universe doppelganger," the captain said. "We need to make sure Commander Tazhenkov is who he claims to be."

Jahkar was taken back, but then slowly nodded in agreement, "Medkit?"

"The Terrans found a way to block scans to determine if they are from our universe or there's," Tiri said. "I'll need to draw his blood and test it…it's the only way to be sure."

Jahkar exhaled sharply, "We're not going in armed?"

"Starfleet Intelligence isn't going to let us beam in armed," the captain said. "I want to keep this quiet until we have him cornered. I am certain his superiors will let us check him once we confront him."

"And if he doesn't?" Jahkar asked.

Lazarus smiled, "That's what I have you here for." He then led them onto the transporter pad and the three of them beamed down to Starfleet Intelligence Headquarters in San Francisco…

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Admiral Ian McCulloch

Starfleet Intelligence, San Francisco

Stardate 2303.01

Lazarus, Jahkar and Sh'avelith materialized in a transporter room at the huge complex known as Starfleet Intelligence. They were greeted by two security guards who quickly double-checked their identities and then allowed them to step off the transporter pad.
The door slid open and the familiar face of Admiral Ian MacLeod strolled in. The white-haired, black bushy eyebrowed commanding officer of Shadow Operations greeted the trio of officers and then looked past them to the two security officers.

"Ensign Greenman, Ensign Sadek, you're with us," MacLeod ordered. The two looked surprised they were being brought along, uncertain why the admiral needed them.

Lazarus had obviously clued MacLeod in and had asked him to be there when they arrived. Having the clout of an admiral would come in handy as they moved to confront Tazhenkov.

The group walked in silence through the winding corridors of Starfleet Intelligence, arriving a short time later in the offices of the Mirror Task Force. Stepping through the doors into the offices, they were greeted by a young yeoman named Cynthia Wilkins who smiled warmly as she approached.

"Admiral, captain," she said. "This is most unexpected. Can I help you?"

"Yeoman, are Commodore Neevar and Commander Tazhenkov here?" MacLeod asked.

"In the ops center," she said, looking a little perplexed. "Allow me to announce you…"

"That won't be necessary," MacLeod said, flashing his charming smile. "We have businqess to discuss." He turned to the security officers, "I want the two of you to wait outside the ops center. I'll call for you if you're needed."

"Aye sir," Greenman confirmed.

MacLeod, Lazarus and their Shadow operators approached the doors to ops and when they slid open, they all stepped inside.

There, they found Captain Neevar, a Bolian who led the special division of Starfleet Intelligence, looking over reports in his office which looked out through windows onto the ops center. Tazhenkov and a group of analysts were huddled around a holographic map, deep in some kind of discussion as the group from Shadow Ops approached.

"Commander?" MacLeod said, his voice causing Taz to look up from what he was doing. "A moment of your time."

Tazhenkov stepped away from the display and the four analysts there and walked over to the admiral and his colleagues. He looked pensive as he approached, his eyes scanning the group as if he were looking for someone.

"Admiral MacLeod, Captain Lazarus," Tazhenkov said, then adding a nod to Jahkar and Tiri. "I heard you were back…where's Lt. Nala."

"Commander Tazhenkov," Lazarus said. "I need you to keep your hands where we can see them. Lt. Sh'avelith will be administering a blood test. We need to verify your universe of origin."

Tazhenkov looked surprised and glanced from Lazarus to the admiral, "W-what?" A couple of the analysts at the display stopped what they were doing and looked over at the entourage surrounding Taz.

"What's the meaning of this?" Captain Neevar asked, stepping out of his office and walking across the ops center. "Admiral MacLeod, what is this about?"
"Lt. Nala is dead," Lazarus said bluntly. "She was killed months ago and replaced with the Nala you sent with us. We want to verify Tazhenkov's origin….here or the Mirror Universe."

"Nala's dead?" Taz stammered, a look of utter devastation crossing his face. "That…can't be. We are scanned after every mission to the other side. All of her scans have been…"

"They were masked," Tiri interjected. "The Terrans have developed a device…an implant…that convinces typical sensors that the user has the quantum signature of this universe. I took one out of the imposter Nala before we marooned her and our other Terran prisoners."

Tazhenkov sank into a chair and lowered his head, his elbows on his knees, hands gripping his temples, "That's not possible!"

"The test, commander," Lazarus muttered. "She killed several of my officers and I will not allow you to harm anyone else…if you are Terran."

"I'm not!" Tazhenkov barked. "Believe me, I'm not Terran. I had no idea she was not our Nala…but…."

"But what?" Jahkar asked.

"Nala and I had been a couple for more than a year," Tazhenkov said. "Then, a few months ago, she just broke it off. No explanation."

Neevar stepped over to MacLeod, "Admiral, surely we can avoid all this. His reaction is enough to convince me of who he is."

"I'm sorry," MacLeod said. "I'm going to need that test now, or I'll call security in from outside that door."

Tazhenkov nodded and raised the sleeve of his uniform, "No…go ahead. Take your test. Just be done with it."

Sh'avelith stepped up and knelt beside the chair Tazhenkov was seated in and proceeded to draw the blood necessary for the test. Once it was drawn, she stepped aside and began applying the blood sample to a sampling device which would insert in the medical tricorder she had with her.

"You stranded her? Where?" Tazhenkov asked.

"Somewhere she and the Terran centurions we captured will not likely be found," Lazarus said. "They got off easy."

Neevar shook his head, "I don't know how this could have happened. Our security protocols have been solid."

"Maybe you and your team ought to leave excursions through the Looking Glass to the Pathfinders," MacLeod stated. "They are better suited for interacting with the monsters who reside on the other side."

Tiri checked the readings and slowly a smile creased her face, "He's ours…I mean, he's from this universe."

Jahkar nodded and smiled, "That's good to know."

The marine then recognized Taz was in pain after hearing the news about Lt. Nala. "Sorry for your loss, Alex."

"We're finished here," MacLeod said, turning to Captain Neevar. "I'm also sorry for the loss of your agent. But, I will give you a heads up that I've called a meeting with Commodore Oh and Admiral Clancy to discuss the future of this program. As the captain here said, dealing with the Mirror Universe might be a job better suited for the Pathfinder group."

Neevar gave MacLeod a foul look and shook his head, "Very well. If we're finished here, sir."

"Carry on, captain," MacLeod said, then glancing to Tazhenkov, "Commander…my condolences."

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Starfleet Medical

Stardate 2303.02

Will was midway through his report on the team's encounter with Mirror Universe Kathleen Fraser when he received the message he could see Victoria. He collected his padds, quickly made his way to the Resurrection's transporter room and nodded for the transport chief to beam him down to Starfleet Medical.
Seconds later, he materialized in a reception area of the facility where both Smith and Thompson were being treated. Captain Julian Bashir was waiting for him and approached with his hand outstretched.

"Sir!" McCulloch instinctively answered as he grasped the doctor's hand.

"Lt. Commander, it is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Thank you sir," McCulloch awkwardly answered. He was somewhat surprised by the doctor's warm reception.

"Commander Vree just left to see Commander Smith," he announced as he motioned for the Scot to follow him in a remote area of the reception area. "You are next in the queue. While we wait, may we speak."

"Of course sir."

Once alone, Bashir cleared his throat.

"Ms. Smith is going to have a very tough road ahead of her. Our biggest concern is she slips into a severe depression, thereby slowing her recovery process."

"What is she looking at Doctor."

Bashir sighed. "At least six to nine months of physical therapy and up to a full year before she is allowed to return to active duty."
McCulloch was stunned and could only curse under his breath.

"She is going to need a strong support system in place while she recovers. Above all, she is going to need your unwavering encouragement. Am I clear?"
"Absolutely sir." Will quickly answered, eager to assist Victoria as best he could. "What about Union XII?"

Bashir sighed in frustration. "I don't know what the unit's fate will be. The physical and psychological effects of combat on medics, nurses and doctors always seems to be an afterthought and Union XII is no exception."

"Sir?"

"It's a team of ten. Over the course of two missions, one member was killed, two more were wounded and a fourth was relieved of duty because of combat related stress. Let's be honest, Lieutenant Commander, the team has been smacked around."

McCulloch nodded in understanding. "Does Commander Smith know her second in command is dead?"

"Not yet," The doctor answered. "It's too soon to tell her."

"Who is going to command the team in her absence?"

"Captain Archer Morgan, a physician's assistant with Starfleet Marines, is en route. He will assume command upon arrival."

"What about the team itself? Will they be disbanded?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Bashir replied. There as a tone of protection in his voice. "But we need to reassess safety protocols and mission duties for the team moving forward."

Will remained silent as the doctor continued.

"Tell me Mr. McCulloch, what are your intentions with the commander." The doctor asked, changing the subject before raising his hands of as a sign of not intending offense. "Call me curious."

Will scoffed softly as he looked out a window and studied the courtyard below.

"We are in a relationship again but we want to make it more formal."

"Formal? Marriage?"

"No," Will hesitated. "No, not yet. She wants the two of us to court for some time before marriage is discussed again. But there are two conditions to the relationship moving forward."

Julian laughed. "Of course Ms. Smith is asking for conditions. You poor bastard. What are they? You have to tell me."

Will smirked. "I have to obtain her parent's consent to the relationship."

Bashir nodded sympathetically. "That should be an easy one. I'm confident you can charm your way through that request. What is the other?"

McCulloch paused to exhale before continuing. "She wants me to seek Commander Vree's approval."

The doctor winced. "That's not good."

"A secret between you and me Doctor?" Will replied as he looked around their surroundings. The only other person near them was a nurse who had exited Thompson's recovery room.

"Doctor - patient confidentiality. Of course."

"Vree's express permission is not a condition of the relationship. She is only requesting that I formally ask."

"Mayla is going to blow a gasket if she objects and you two continue forward."

McCulloch nodded in agreement. "She will murder me."

After a moment Bashir cleared his throat and gestured towards Thompson's recovery room.

"Do you know how he is doing Mr. McCulloch?"

"I don't. But I suspect he's in as rough shape as Victoria."

"Go visit him. I'll give you authorization. Besides, Mayla will likely be a bit longer with Victoria."

"Thank you, sir. I would like to see him."

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Starfleet Medical, San Francisco

Stardate 2303.02

Daryl looked outside through the huge window in his room. It looked out over San Francisco. It showed the abouts of the city, dozens and dozens of shuttles flying on and off, small and larger transporter ships, excursion hoppers and all kinds of other ships flying around the buildings. In the distance, the sea was visible, showing tiny ships moving along. The view was spectacular, yet Daryl didn't really see it as he was deeply in thoughts. His eyes were red and swollen. And he was dead tired, yet he didn't want to go to sleep. The nightmares where awful. The visions of everything that happened now had ripped open the old wounds of his stay at Rogaran IV in this universe. And then all those memories from his mirror counterpart that had been implanted in his. And it weren't only the memories of terrible things, but also all those memories of all the intimate moments The Hand had with all those women. Durham had pressed to keep up that appearance, as otherwise he was sure of a swift death was ahead as the spies were everywhere and they would quickly figure out something was off.

So now Daryl had to deal with that. Even up to the point where he shared bed with the evil Dr. Smith. Daryl felt nauseous only by the thoughts of it, not had he slept with the Mirror Universe counterpart partner of one of his best friends in the team, but even worse, he had betrayed Darva. The love of his life. It would all end here. He was sure of that. And that while he needed her so desperately now. He sobbed hard. Grief, despair and utter frustration came out above all other feelings and emotions. He clenched his fists and didn't know what to do. Then he heard a voice in his head. It was the voice of Joanna. A soothing, light and tingling sensation accompanying her soft mental voice

"Don't be too hard on yourself Daryl. Remember that everything you did was against your values. Your goal was to survive. To get back to the people you really love. I can sense there is not a trace of love accompanying these experiences. You had to keep up appearances to prevent your cover being blown. And although it might be awkward for the both of you, if you want I can let Darva 'feel' what you experienced. " Daryl exhaled a few times, trying to get himself in check again. It had been weird the first few times, and awkward, to have someone in his head, being able to feel and see what was going on inside him. But he quickly got accustomed to it, as he felt she was able to sooth his thoughts and calm him down, even pushing the dark memories away for some moments.

"Thank you Joanna. I will think about it" He replied back in his thoughts, as he relaxed a bit. Then he sighed again. It would be hard to tell Darva. She would visit him tomorrow.

The door opened and Dr. Thorpe entered.

"Mr. Thompson, how are you today? "

Daryl shrugged. "Same" He answered shortly.

"I heard you plan to make quite a confession towards your partner. Do you think that is wise?

Daryl nodded. " I can't keep that only with me. She deserves to know what I've done. Why I did it. If that means our relation will end, so be it. I wouldn't be able to lie against her. "

Thorpe nodded. "Fair point. "

He shifted in his seat. "I got the results of the tests. The good news is, we can extract every engram that's not originally yours. It's experimental, as we actually never have seen someone with s double set of engrams. Besides extracting, we need to rewire your brain, literally. Because of that the procedure can only be performed in small parts. I guess we need about 60 to 70 sessions with a 2 day interval to remove every memory. The two day interval will contain intense mental training, mind melds and neural reordering. For that, you will be coma-induced so we can remove any residual neuronal paths that have stayed behind. "

Daryl frowned. "Remove? How? "

"The procedure is non-invasive and is done with pinites (pi from pico - 1/1000 nanometer) . It's a revolutionary new way of working. And it's quickly becoming the new standard procedure these days. The coma is only to prevent any side effects. " Thorpe explained.

Daryl frowned even more. Pinites? He never had heard of them. Of course, technology still advanced rapidly.

"What are these pinites? " He asked Thorpe.

Thorpe grinned. "We call them pinites. The official thing has nothing to do with nanites. But the scale is correct. Actually, they are not real nanites, but synthetic proteins bound with enzymes. Sort of. The residual path that should be cleared are tagged with a compound to which the enzyme part of the pinites is attracted. Once bound, the proteins do their job and remove the residual path. "

Daryl nodded. Then he shrugged. "Wish I had it all behind me. I know what's coming and it isn't fun. This procedure is the least of my worries"
Thorpe nodded and pressed his lips together, sighing.

"I know. We will get you back in shape. But you have to do the hard part Daryl. I can't change that. Even 24th century tech can't just take away these kinds of trauma's. I'm sorry. But we will help you in the best way we can. "

A moment of silence fell.

"How do you sleep? " Thorpe then asked.

"Barely" Daryl said.

"Nightmares? "

Daryl nodded.

"Your brain is working hard. But I'll prescribe something anyway. "

Daryl nodded again, as Thorpe gave in some information in his padd.

"Take care Daryl" Thorpe said while getting up from his chair.

"Good luck tomorrow. I'll drop in afterwards to see how you're doing".

Daryl said nothing while he stared outside again. Within moments, the door closed behind the doctor, and all was silent.

"I see the view of the courtyard is as equally bad in here as it is in the waiting area." McCulloch announced from the room's entrance. "How is the food?"

Daryl looked up as he was pulled back to reality, hearing that familiar voice. He smiled, as he was glad to see McCulloch back on his feet again.
"Tolerable." Thompson replied with a shrug. McCulloch noted there was a tone of sadness in his voice.

The Scot retrieved a nearby chair, made his way over to Thompson's bedside, and sat down next to his friend.

"How is Darva doing?"

"She's doing well. She was wounded during the attack of the Terrans the field medic's from Union XII saved her life. They transferred her here too. Daryl stated. He looked down.

"She's coming to visit me tomorrow."

McCulloch raised his eyebrows. "You make it sound like it is a burden".

Daryl gazed outside again. "It is. At least what I need to tell her. "

Will studied Daryl. "What the hell happened there in the Mirror Universe… ? " He asked.

Daryl didn't answer. He choked back his tears. Finally, he spoke.

"It was hell there, Will. They messed with my brain, imprinting the complete set of my counterpart in the MU. Suddenly I got twice as many memories. As if there was a bad and good version of me inside my brain. I slept with other women. I had to keep up that appearance. The Mirror Universe Daryl was a playboy because he was The Hand. And I had to do the same. If not, I wouldn't be here today. You have seen how ruthless they are. Spies of the opposition would've find out soon enough, which would have resulted in a quick death. I did it purely to survive. "

Daryl rambled, his voice shaking, tears running down his face.

"I had to do terrible things to stay alive. I had to give orders to torture and kill innocent people. And once they reached their goal, the killing of Emperor Jaeger, I was tossed away like a used rag. Back to that awful place. And there it was even worse. The torturing. The killing. Dark killed my best friend there to try to break me… " Daryl had to stop several times as emotions got too strong and he just couldn't bring out a sound, literally choking in his tears..

McCulloch looked at Daryl in utter disbelief. Daryl wiped away the tears.

"I also shared the bed with Dr. Smith."

Daryl looked shortly at McCulloch, then looked away as a silence fell.

McCulloch felt his jaw tighten at Daryl's revelation. His friend had just revealed that he slept with Dr. Victoria Smith … the insane physican who tortured him in an effort to get her hands on the Prime Universe version of herself: Commander Victoria Smith.

Will visibly shuddered. Dr. Smith was pure evil and her interrogation methods were beyond cruel. While torturing McCulloch, she personally carved his body up before engraving her initials into his side as part of an effort to break him. Yet, for everything Dr. Smith put him through, Will instinctively knew Daryl's suffering was tenfold.

After a moment of reflection, the Scot's thoughts drifted back to Vree and Smith's interaction the doctor. There was one statement that clearly stood out in his mind - Victoria's dark warning to her mirror counterpart before she was executed. Will smiled slightly as the memory replayed again and again in his head. He seized his friend's hand and addressed him.

"Daryl, it's ok. It wasn't the same person. It wasn't our Victoria." He assured. "You were the victim of torture, psychological warfare and experimentation. You needed to do things to survive. Now, if you ask my Victoria to get naked for you I'll …"

Thompson began to visibly shake. Seconds later, he broke down crying. McCulloch sprung up from his chair and quickly embraced his friend.

"It's ok Daryl. You're going to pull through this." The Scot assured before stepping back to study Thompson. "When are you telling Darva?"

"Tomorrow."
"Then I'll be her to su
pport you," Will announced. "And don't underestimate Darva. I think she'll be much more understanding than you give her credit for."

Daryl sighed as he calmed down a bit.

"I can only hope she does. " He said in a shaky voice. Then he looked outside again, as if to find the answers there.

Commander Mayla Vree

Starfleet Medical, Earth

Stardate 2303.02

The door opened from Smith's ward and a nurse approached Mayla. Bashir was still sitting there and acknowledged the nurse.
"Commander? She is ready for visitors now," she said.

"How is she?"

The nurse gave her a quick rundown of the work that was done on her, and the recovery outlook. "She'll be out of commission for a while."

"I understand," Mayla said, looking over her shoulder into the room while in her eyes she composed a text message to send to McCulloch. "Thank you."

"There's one more thing." The nurse whispered as she looked about before leaning in towards the Trill.

"Go on."

"Dr. ch'Sonne wants me to tell you that Commander Smith is at high risk of slipping into a severe depression given the nature of her injuries, the path of her recovery and her likely being…benched from active duty. She's going to need all the encouragement and support she can get."

The nurse led her in and Mayla gave Victoria, who was propped up on the biobed, a smile of relief. She remained silent as she gave her arm a squeeze. It was a silent signal to her that things would be alright.

"I failed you," was the first thing Victoria said.

"What makes you say that?" Mayla said.

"I got injured and put the team at risk because of it."

"We all knew the risk when someone outside of the team goes along with us. That's why we usually don't allow it." Mayla looked at her sideways. "You were there when we needed you most. We got Daryl out, dealt with that psychopathic Doctor, maybe even made a difference in…how things over there go from now on. They were supposed to follow the new Federation charter, but all those who wanted that were killed. You can't please all the people."

Smith began to cry. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. I was so worried about you, and Will, and here I am the one getting hurt instead." She rubbed her eyes and looked at Mayla. "You didn't even get a scratch, did you?"

"You know I can take care of myself. It's the way I'm built." Maya soothed her. "I'll be okay. I'll be sure that's the last time you go on an away mission with us."

"I hate to let you down."

"You didn't let anyone down. Everyone eventually gets hurt, it's a footnote of fact in the type of work we do. We all can't come home unscathed all the time."

"You seemingly do," Victoria answered, grabbing another tissue.

"I've been doing this much longer than the rest of you," Mayla answered, and then cocked her head. "I believe your ex-husband is here."

Victoria looked to the door, then back to her as Mayla leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm going to leave you two alone. I'll see you soon." She started to step away when Smith took her hand.

"Can you ask Tiri and Fiadh to visit? I want to talk with them."

Mayla nodded. "Aye, Commander. I'll let them know."

Just then McCulloch burst through the door and headed straight for Smith's bedside. Waking by Mayla, he gave her a nod of thanks. Mayla left the room and with a quick goodbye to Bashir, she headed back to lobby security to retrieve her weapons before transporting back to the ship.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Starfleet Medical

Stardate 2303.05

Dr. Bashir quietly entered Daryl's recovery room and cleared his throat. Will looked over his shoulder at the physician.
"I am sorry for interrupting your conversation, gentlemen, but I thought Mr. McCulloch would like to know the Commander Vree is wrapping up her time with Ms. Smith."

"Go, Will," Daryl urged.

The Scot quickly stood up and exited the room without saying a word. Once outside, he dashed across the reception area to Victoria's room, where he nearly collided with Vree. He gave the Trill a quick thanks and entered Victoria's room.

Smith looked as if she had been dragged through a meat grinder. But Will didn't care. She was alive and that was all that mattered. Smith smiled weakly as the Scot crossed the room. When he reached her bed, he simply leaned over, embraced and kissed her.

Victoria started crying again. "I think my career is over."

"No, this is a bump in the road. Nothing more Victoria."

"This is my own fault."

"I've been saying the same thing myself," Will conceded, his mod becoming much more somber. "I should have placed protection around you."

Smith scoffed as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I saw movement along our flank just before the attack but I failed to report it. It's my fault."

Will remained silent for a moment. The entire extraction from the Terran prison facility was a giant cluster. Most of the team was injured, they had let an unvetted 3rd party withdraw with them, Terran authority was collapsing and the team's resources were stretched thin.If the Carnora hadn't attacked his team, something else certainly would have. They were just ripe for attack.

"Victoria, it's not your fault, the entire team was in a bad place. If that Carnora hadn't appeared, I'm sure something else would have hit us."
The injured nurse remained silent for a moment as she reflected on the attack in the cavern. She shuddered.

"Tiri saved my life." Smith announced. "I'm alive because of her."

McCulloch nodded grimly in agreement.

Tears began to stream down her face. "I don't know if I can ever repay her."

"I highly doubt she's looking for repayment." Will answered. "But I'm sure she would welcome your friendship."

"This is how I end my career. A burden to everyone and as a failure.

"You're not a failure."

"You're just saying that hoping to score points with me." Victoria complained.

"I'm not," Will replied, trying his best not to laugh.

"What have I got to show after this mission?" She demanded.

"Well, for starters, you better get used to the stares and gawking you will encounter during recovery."

"Come again?"

"Outside of Starfleet Medical, doctors, nurses and other healthcare personnel don't get much of the glory. But you …"

"What about me."

"Well word has gotten out on the Resurrection about what you did." Will announced.

"I think you're exaggerating."

"Oh, I disagree," McCulloch interjected. "The crew is already talking about the Union XII nurse with no special forces training who went undercover as a high-ranking member of the Terran Empire to personally assist with the rescue Daryl Thompson."

"Eh…" victoria shrugged.

"Eh? I think as a result of your actions Darva McGuire has sworn a blood oath to you."

"Stop making things up to make me feel better Will."

"Fine, what about the cavern. I think you should look at it another way."

"How so?"

"Although brutally attacked by a Mirror Universe Carnora, you were still tough enough to draw your pistol and kill it at point-blank range. You are too humble, Commander."

"I just did a job." Victoria sadly replied

"With humility like this, you're going to make a great recruiting poster." Will quipped. "Fine, then let's talk about those under your charge and trained by YOU … Union XII."

Victoria hesitated momentarily. "What about Union XII?"

"They're heroes too." McCulloch announced. "They fought alongside the Resurrection's crew to repel a Terran boarding action. Fiadh Hannigan personally killed the enemy's commanding officer."

"She did what?"

"She also saved the life of Lt. Commander McGuire. I've seen the preliminary report. She carried Darva to safety and rendered life-saving care," Will added. "She's probably going end up with a field promotion."

Victoria chuckled slightly as she wiped the tears away from her eyes. "She'll refuse the promotion."

"Perhaps, but what about the others from your team? They are heroes too. Union XII risked everything to save the lives of seven crewmen during that fight. All seven will live."

The nurse coughed slightly as she avoided eye contact. "They were just doing their job as well."

McCulloch scoffed. "Seven people are alive because of what your team did. Starfleet Medical will probably issue your team a unit citation."

"Perhaps."

"Are you feeling better?" Will asked as he held Victoria's hands.

"A little." Victoria conceded.

"Good, then I need to ask you one more thing." McCulloch warned.

"What?" Smith asked, there was a tone of concern in her voice.

"Where did you get that gunship because Lazarus will want to inspect it," he whispered.

The nurse did a double take. "Will, It's a medical jumpship." She corrected.

"It's an Arrow Class gunship with red crosses painted on it." The Scot countered. "I know about the Gentle Annie baring her teeth during the boarding action."

"She was part of the fight too?"

"Strafed most of the Terran reinforcements rushing the Resurrection." He replied.

Victoria perked up and smiled wickedly for the first time. "It is a gun ship. I picked it out with the help of the Marine Battalion that helped train Union XII."

McCulloch laughed loudly. "You realize Captain Lazarus will want a full explanation and debrief on that "jumpship"? Gentle Annie my ass."
Smith looked out the window of her recovery room as she contemplated her fate.

"What happens next, Will?"

"You'll be in recovery for a few weeks and then you'll start physical therapy. It will be slow and painful at first, but I'll be there with you."
"You would do that?" She pressed. "What about Phoenix Team?"

"I would request a reassignment or resign my provisional assignment to be by your side."

Once again, Smith began to sob. She quickly caught herself.

"It's a happy cry WIll, I promise you."

McCulloch smiled. "I know."

Doctor ch'Sonne unexpectedly returned to the room. The Andorian visually examined her one last time before turning to the nurse who accompanied him. "We need to sedate her again so she can get more rest."

"Go Will." Victoria ordered with a slight wave of her hand. "I want you to find Mayla and ask her. Now is the time."

Will kissed her hands before standing up. "I'll check in the morning Victoria."

The Scot spun on his heels and exited the room. Afterward, he made his way to the nearest transporter room so he could return to the Resurrection to ask Commander Mayla Vree's for her approval to court Nurse Victoria Smith.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch and Commander Mayla Vree

USS Resurrection, Earth

Stardate 2303.05

McCulloch stepped off the transporter padd and returned to his quarters, changing into another fresh uniform. Afterward, he tapped a nearby console to locate Mayla.

"Commander Vree is in her quarters." the computer reported.

"Well, at least she isn't near an airlock." The Scot sarcastically announced to no one in particular. He exited his quarters and immediately halted. He silently looked up and down the passageway before turning to his left and walking away from Vree's quarters.

He nervously paced up and down the passageway for twenty minutes, rehearsing what he would say to Vree. He felt foolish having to jump through this hoop, but Victoria insisted that her request be honored. Mayla was a very important part of Victoria's life, and the nurse insisted that Will speak with her.
As the Scot rounded a corner, he wondered what a future wedding would be like with Vree as part of the bridal party. He envisioned Mayla would be subtle…perhaps poisoning his meal or injecting him with some substance that would cause him to soil himself publicly.

McCulloch laughed at such scenarios. She wouldn't do anything so outrageous…would she?

As he neared completion of a lap around the ship, he found himself again near Vree's quarters. He stopped at her door and quickly inspected his uniform.
He quietly cursed. Should he have brought her candy or flowers?

Will exhaled nervously before tapping the chime twice. Seconds later, Vree simply barked, "Enter!"

McCulloch immediately entered and found Mayla behind her desk, working hard on some unforeseen task.

"Lieutenant Commander, is there anything I can do for you?"

Rather than answer, Will walked over to her and stood before her at attention. After a second, he started to speak but nervously choked on his own words. He took a deep breath, and looked directly at his commanding officer.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"This is about a personal matter." He stammered slightly. Crap, he thought to himself. Why is he stammering? Vree would certainly pick up on his nervousness … it would be blood in the water to her.

"Is everything alright Mr. McCulloch?" She pressed while looking up from her work. "You don't seem yourself."

"Commander Smith …" He paused to collect his thoughts. He briefly looked down at the floor before looking back up. "Victoria asked that I speak with you."
"Is she alright?" Vree demanded. "Is she still stable?"

"She is," Will reassured Vree. "Which is why she wants me to see you."

"About what?" Mayla asked.

"It's regarding a matter that is personal in nature."

"You already told me that."

"I did?"

"You did."

"Sir," Will announced as he remained standing before Vree. "You and I both know Victoria sees you as family. You are a part of her life and she adores you. I want to thank you for continuously offering your love and support to her."

Vree simply stared at Will.

The Scot cleared his throat and continued. "You know that Victoria and I have started rebuilding our relationship. It is very important to her … and me… that we …I … seek your approval as we move forward with this relationship. She and I want you to be a part of our lives as we move forward. I cannot make up for the terrible mistakes I made in the past against your family or Victoria. Still, as a reformed man, you have my word that I will do everything I can to honor Victoria and you, her sister, as you deserve to be treated."

Will remained at attention, waiting for Vree to respond.

Mayla shut off her computer console and pushed it out of the way, giving the man her full attention. "Tell me, Mister, ARE you a reformed man? Please explain to me how you are a reformed man. And I caution you, I have the knowledge of your prior life and how you functioned in Bravo Squad."

"I certainly hope you have access to information about my previous life and how I functioned. I encourage you to review it." Will politely countered. "And I hope you will use that as a reference point as you evaluate me. But, if you are genuinely digging around my files and history, I certainly hope you can uncover an explanation …any explanation..as to why Starfleet Intelligence violated its promise to expunge my criminal records and restore my rank in exchange for performing the less than savory operations they tend to avoid."

Vree didn't respond. Instead, she coldly glared at the Scot and narrowed her eyes.

"Right, Victoria." He mumbled as he shifted slightly in his stance. "Sir, I can point to four key factors demonstrating my reformation. First, I was accepted into this team. That alone should be considered as evidence of my POTENTIAL for reform. Second, my responsibilities within this team, including command duties, have expanded only after two missions. I would assert that too is evidence of my ability to reform. Furthermore, your commanding officer, Captain Lazarus, noted before the commencement of our last mission that I have made valuable contributions to this team and that I have demonstrated growth as an officer and as a person."

"Anything else?"

"Yes."

"Go on."

"Victoria, sir."

"Victoria?"

Will looked Vree directly in the eyes. "If Victoria did not believe that I was capable of reform or had not achieved some modicum of reform, I would not be standing here."

Vree started to respond but Will immediately cut her off.

"Respectfully, sir, I am not finished."

The Scot noted Vree's jaw was starting to tighten. "Go on."

"Sir, I apologized to Commander Vree at my court martial for my actions against Bravo Squad and my betrayal of his trust. However, I do not believe I ever apologized to you for my crimes against the Vree family. I do not expect you to forgive me for my conduct and actions, but I am truly sorry."

"Your explanation is satisfactory, but also completely unsatisfactory." Mayla said sternly.

"Your meaning?"

"Meaning, everything you've explained to me refers to the duty you performed for Starfeet. I don't care about that. We all perform to the best of our abilities due to our skills and performance in the line of duty. If I had an away mission to assign to you, all of your professional experiences are taken accounted for. I'm talking about your character. You can spout all you've done for Starfleet until you're blue in the face. It is a scant measure of you as a person in a personal relationship with a future possible wife. Of all of the missions you've performed successfully or not, THIS mission is a long term mission with no end for the rest of your life. The last time you attempted that, you brought your clan in to destroy Bravo Squad. And THAT was not in the line of duty for Starfleet, but for your own personal vendetta and revenge." Mayla could see the seething in his eyes knowing that she had struck a chord. "But as I said to you before when you first joined the team, that is something you've tried very hard to make amends for and it is acknowledged and appreciated."

"Then why scrounge it up?"

"Because despite whatever you try to put behind you, it is still a part of you. Every time someone brings it up, you become defensive. And I do believe you already know that because it happened just now."

Mayla let silence follow for a few moments to let both sides calm down a bit. Then she gave him a smile. "Will, if you are serious about continuing this relationship, I must inform you Victoria has appointed me as her liyea'tai."

Will gave her a questioning look. "Liyea'tai? What is that?"

"It is a traditional trill custom of a family member or someone closer to be appointed as guardian for a future mate who wants to court her. My cousin Jiarin would have wanted to follow it."

"Victoria is not Trill." Will answered, a bit wary and cautious of what this was going to entail.

"No, she isn't. But the Trill that is a part of her psyche is. Besides, she had made that request of me when she discovered you both were going to be working together with the off chance you two would renew your relationship. And I had accepted. I am her liyea'tai. You will have to submit to me." She said it with a straight face without any sign of beguilement or smugness. She was as serious as if they were on an away mission.

Will already knew Mayla was protective of Victoria; already her guardian. If this liyea'tai title allows her to literally enforce that against someone courting her, he had to admit, that made him a little bit scared. He already knew what her father was capable of, what was his daughter going to do with him?

"Wh-what will that involve?"

Mayla leaned forward over her desk. "You will have to prove to ME you are worthy physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally to court her; and to call her mate."

"How long will that take?"

"For as long as it is necessary until I am satisfied. You're not only proving it to me, but to yourself that this will be a lifelong commitment to her through any situation. Which includes balancing your life, with hers, and duty." Mayla sat back into her chair. "I will not coddle you, I will only guide you on a path of your own choosing in all matters inside the simulations."

Will's head spun a bit at the revelation of trill tradition. "I understand, I think."

"You will be tested physically and mentally. It may break you, but it will only make you stronger for yourself, and for her. We will go through dozens of sims together, a hundred if need be, whenever we get the chance during our off duty hours. And you can never discuss anything about it with Victoria or anyone else. Or even that you're going through the tests. Although I think she would eventually figure it out."

"What kind of sims are they?"

"Most are not combat sims, if that's what you're thinking about. Some are easy, some are hard, some require you to make difficult decisions, some will push the boundaries of your morals and principles, each will display a part of your character I may not know about. And sometimes, it may reveal something about yourself."

"So it's a quest to find myself."

"It's different for different people. It will be as much of a surprise to me as it might be for you. But it will eke out parts of your personality, character, and maybe even your soul that you may not like aired out."

Will nodded. This was going to be a challenge, maybe even more so than being a solo operative for Starfleet Intelligence. This was tied directly to his heart.

"I will forewarn you now, I have tapped into the sims my father used when he was the liyea'tai for Kindred Dakota. Some of the sims will push you past your physical, mental, and emotional limits, all the while keeping you focused on why you are doing this and how far you will push yourself to become who I think Victoria should be deserving of. And in the end, you may still not be good enough. And she may change her mind. But nevertheless, win or lose in the end, you will have a broader mindset when you come out of the other side. Now, do you really want to do this, as she has requested?"

Will's jawline visibly tightened. He fought off every urge to tell Mayla to "sod off", spin on his heels and leave. The Scot wondered if this was yet again another power play by Vree. Was Victoria merely her pawn in a twisted game she wished to play against him? And simulations?

What probably galled the Scot more so was Mayla's insistence that she manage and supervise their relationship. Had Mayla Vree ever been in a relationship before? Was this role of liyea'tai even accepted across Trill society or was this an outdated ritual the Vrees had weaponized?

However, after a moment, Will relaxed and began to smile. Victoria, who was dancing between her human emotions and Trill memories, made it quite clear with her most recent instructions to him ... he was merely to ask for Mayla's assent. Unlike his anticipated meeting with her parents, securing permission from Mayla was not discussed. McCulloch realized Vree may have just overplayed her hand by relying too much on Trill traditions and ceremonies with Victoria. If anything, the move could alienate the nurse.

Yet, after a moment of further reflection, he completely backed down. He realized a struggle between Mayla and himself would only drive Victoria away from both of them. It was a scenario he dreaded and wished to avoid. If introducing a liyea'tai would score points with the nurse and improve the relationship with Vree, he would do it.

McCulloch purposely rolled his eyes and audibly sighed. Afterward, he smiled warmly.

"Sir, if that is what you require for your assent," He announced, doing his best to avoid any tone of contempt or disdain in his voice. "I will do it. I eagerly await your instructions."

"You will?" Mayla asked. She almost sounded…surprised.

"I will, but I have one request, sir."

"What is it."

McCulloch gazed at Mayla and watched her in silence for several seconds. Afterward, he continued.

"Sir, I only request that I be treated fairly during my courtship. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Of course. As of now, you are under the purview of her guardian. You are allowed to court her any way you wish within reason. And keep in mind of the term 'courtship'. You are NOT in a committed relationship with her, yet. Knowing that will show your fidelity of character and commitment to her and her liyea'tai. I will not interfere with what you do unless it detracts from mission duty. What happens in the sims will eventually affect you outside the holodeck, and hopefully for the better. She will most likely notice this and figure out you have begun your trials with me."

Will took a deep breath as the plunge of his commitment almost made his heart race. He now wasn't fighting to prove himself of his loyalty to Starfleet or some organization. He was fighting to gain the heart of his once beloved. He nearly chuckled to himself. HIS beloved.

"Kindred's husband must hate your father. Was it this hard with him too?"

Mayla gave the question a thought before answering carefully. "He was a trill traditionalist, and his trials were fairly difficult. It was he who asked Ky to begin the trials. They started off a bit rough; both didn't like each other from the beginning. It took a few years, but in the end, they are good friends now. Both love Kindred, and would do anything to protect her, including her heart."

McCulloch mulled over Vree's comments carefully and again nodded in the affirmative. "I agree to do this."

"The first sim will be physically taxing. So take a few days to recuperate from the mission and then we'll begin."

The Scot simply grinned. "I will be rested and ready."

"Dismissed, Lt. Commander."

"Sir." Will answered as he snapped to attention, spun around and left Vree's quarters.

Commander Victoria Smith

Lieutenant Tiri Sh'avelith

Starfleet Medical, Earth

Stardate 2303.05

"Commander?" The nurse prodded as she gently shook Victoria's shoulder. "You have another visitor."

Smith moaned slightly as she started to come to. Her last visitor, Fiadh Hannigan, had left about an hour ago. She blinked several times as her vision slowly came into focus. Standing before her was Tiri.

Victoria raised her arms and weakly gestured for the Andorian to lean in so she could hug her. The nurse quickly kissed her on the cheek before squeezing her neck with all her strength. As Tiri tried to back away, Victoria held on even tighter. Eventually, she started to shake and cry again.

"I'm sorry, I've been crying all day," Smith announced as she sniffled and wiped her eyes yet again. "I…I just wanted to see you. I'm just so thankful for you saving my life."

Victoria released her hold on Tiri and allowed the young lieutenant to pull away. She quickly grabbed Sh'avelith's hands and held on to them.

"Tiri, I cannot thank you for doing what you did," Victoria stated, her voice shaking. "You saved my life and I am forever in your debt. I don't know if I can repay you, but I promise you will always have my unwavering loyalty. Always."

Tiri shook her head and placed a hand calmingly on Smith's shoulder, "Commander, you don't owe me anything. I was merely your hands, you guided me and helped me treat you. I've never treated such a serious injury…I don't know if I could have done it without your help."

The Andorian lowered her head, "You speak of tears…I completely understand. I went to my quarters when we got back to Resurrection and cried on the floor of my room until I fell asleep. I'm just glad you're alive…and you're welcome for whatever part I played in saving you."

Victoria reached out and gently lifted Tiri's head up with her hand.

"Head up Ms. Sh'avelith." She softly ordered before smiling. "You of all people have earned the right to hold your head up high. Don't let anyone take that away from you. And the next time you want to curl up on the floor to cry, you call me …. assuming I'm not bleeding out, I'll bring the drinks and join you."

Smith watched the Andorian in silence for several seconds before yawning. The sedatives were starting to kick in. "You're a good person Tiri and I'm glad you're part of our lives."

"As am I," Tiri said as she watched Victoria drift off to sleep.

Tiri smiled and stood, then turned and left to get back to her duties.

Commodore Rixx

Commander Jane Attenborough

Ensign Adryan Skoretz

Stardate 2303.05

Ensign Adrian Skoretz had tried to get rid of his "pet" Cardassian vole several times, but it always managed to sneak back into base and into his quarters. It had even managed to stow away on the transport that took the relief workers off Cardassia. So he'd tried to keep it hidden, but its discovery was only a matter of time. So when the Ensign was called to meet with Commodore Rixx and Commander Jane Attenborough, he knew exactly what was coming.

"Ensign. How is it that you have acquired a pet?" asked Commander Attenborough.

"Ma'am. A small alien–I don't know what he was–made this vole bond with me, Ma'am." Ensign Skoretz left out the altercation with him.
"Describe the alien."

"Ma'am. Less than three feet in height, looked like a cross between a rat and a dog. He was with a group of StarFleet personnel. I think one of them said he was from the Carnora Pentarchy."

"I noticed you left out that there was an altercation with such an alien outside the Gettle Nest. Witnesses stated you confronted a small alien matching your description; some identified the alien as former Cadet Reepchip Charatetet of the Carnora Pentarchy. Is this true?"

Under the glare of his superior officers, Skoretz finally confessed. "Sir. Yes, sir."

"Explain."

"Sir. The Carnora and these StarFleet officers came down to The Last Call to hold a wake for the traitor Dara Tajel, sir. We were upset, because Tajel had caused the deaths of a lot of our guys. I went to confront this big Klingon, but somehow this Carnora tripped me. I don't know how, but he did."
Commodore Rixx glanced at Commander Attenborough.

"Cadet Charatetet said that his people had telekinesis, and he was known to be a telepath," she responded. "It is possible he developed Telekinesis after he'd returned home."

"There's one problem. Witnesses said this altercation took place outside the Gettle's Nest, not the Last Call. Explain."

Ensign Skoretz fell silent.

"That's an order, Ensign."

"I got up, but this Reepchip, his friends were ready to fight, including this big guy who looked like a cat. He was even bigger than any Klingon I've ever seen. We knew if we tried anything, we'd be screwed, so we went to the Gettle's Nest to drink."

"Then what happened?"

"I saw this little Carnora walking towards the Gettle's nest, sir. I was still embarrassed, and went to confront him–and he did something to my mind. Made me think voles were swarming all over me!"

"You seem to be leaving something out," said Commander Attenborough. "We received statements from two members of Skull Squadron that said Reepchip tried to get away from you twice, but you grabbed him–and that's when he pulled his mind trick on you. Is this true?"

"... Ma'am. Yes Ma'am."

"And the rest of your squadron. Did they cheer you on?"

"Sir. No sir. They didn't."

"Did they say anything?"

"Ensign Rell tried to tell me to back down. Told me that the Carnora wasn't bluffing."

"Mmmm," said Commodore Rixx. At least his son had tried to be the cooler head. "...where's your phaser?"

"He used telekinesis to lift it out of the holster and float it over to the bartender."

Commodore Rixx clenched his jaw slightly. "And you STILL didn't leave him alone? Either you were unacceptably drunk, or unacceptably foolhardy, or both." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to find a telepath that can break this vole's bond with you. Then I will decide on what punitive duties you'll get. You're on probation, Ensign. Dismissed."

Commander Attenborough sighed. "I thought I'd seen the last of Reepchip's pranks when he graduated from Starfleet Academy."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

USS Resurrection

Stardate 2303.05

Lazarus took Resurrection back to Outpost Umbra Prime after Vree was back aboard. The ship, moving under impulse power, arrived at the station a few short minutes after breaking Earth orbit and glided up to the structure orbiting Saturn.

The ship docked with the station and everyone was cleared to leave Resurrection for the more spacious lodgings aboard Umbra Prime. They had left many of the injured on Earth at Starfleet Medical, including Smith, McCulloch, Thompson and McGuire. They could get back to the station later.

As soon as they were aboard, Lazarus contacted Ryramorl and told him to go tend to his business on Carnora. As requested, Sornax had reluctantly authorized the Carnora to take a runabout and return home to file a report with his people – and drop Joshagk off at his new home.

Once those wheels were in motion, the captain made his way to his quarters on the station where he planned to take a well deserved rest.

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

Lieutenant J.G. Reepchip Charatetet

Starfleet Repair Docks

Stardate 2303.05

Lieutenant Commander Carmichael was relieved to see Reepchip in good spirits in the Infirmary. When Reepchip was released from his biobed, Carmichael led him to his office. "You're going to be on this ship during repairs," said Carmichael. "It's clear that you have some sort of psychic connection to this ship, and after what happened, I'm absolutely convinced it's not just you. After we almost got stuck, every single telepath in Engineering felt someone wasn't doing well, they just didn't know who. We're taking that transdimensional device out. I need you to be kind of a liaison between the drive and the engineers. Can you do that?"

"I can, sir," said Reepchip. "But… I ask two things. Let me do another of my rituals and… I need to be with other Murans at the end of the day. I… It's an alien mind I'll be in contact with…"

"Lieutenant Charatetet, I understand completely. I'll make sure that happens."

Only the Madcaps and those involved with the Coaxial Drive were allowed to do the deinstallation. Carmichael gave Reepchip a room to Inscribe and told the others, "Whatever ritual he wants to do, I'm letting him do. It is not to be questioned. Understood?"

Ensign Lokarchin rolled his eyes. "What if he wants to do an augury?" he scoffed quietly.

Carmichael was instantly in the Zakdorn's face. "If he wants to do an augury, you will get him the chicken yourself!" snapped Carmichael. "DO I make myself clear?"

Lokarchin snapped to attention. "Sir, yes sir!"

"Good. Now get to work."

Reepchip Inscribed the room he'd been assigned and meditated, reaching out to the coaxial drive, Daven Corhees, Spargan, and the rest of the telepaths working on the coaxial drive, doing his best to assure the ship to let go of the transdimensional drive as the engineers dismantled it.

Lieutenant Madhaven Chopra and Carmichael checked in on Reepchip from time to time, as the Muran meditated in his assigned room.

Carmichael pulled Daven Corhees aside. "Do you think the drive told him to make those markings?" he asked, wondering if Reepchip had created some arcane clue to the drive's nature.

Lieutenant Corhees shook his head. "Believe me, sir, from what I can sense through Ratman, even the ship is confused."

Around the transdimensional device, the engineers worked. Suddenly, there was shouts of surprise. "Whoa.. ah! yeah! there it goes!" When Carmichael went to check, he saw with relief that tendrils were withdrawing from the device.

Meanwhile, Reepchip had passed beyond meditation and was in full trance, communicating with the coaxial drive, coaxing it to reverse its melding, while he sensed from the minds of the other telepath engineers what had been removed and where the ship could remove its tendrils.

Finally, the engineers reported that the transdimensional device had been completely disconnected, and they were getting ready to remove it entirely.

Carmichael nodded, and headed over to Reepchip. "You can wake up now," he said to the Muran. After a moment, he touched Reepchip's shoulder.

"Lieutenant Charatetet? We've disconnected the device." Reepchip made no response, and Carmichael took a deep breath—was Reepchip's mind trapped by this thing?

He quickly went to the console and typed in, "Please release Reepchip." Meanwhile, Daven went over to Reepchip, and gently took his handpaws and used his telepathy to bring the Muran out of his trance. Reepchip soon opened his eyes and looked around, disoriented Daven helped the Muran to his feet as Reepchip got his bearings.

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Runabout Orion's Belt

Stardate 2303.05

Ryramorl stood alone on the bridge of the Orion's Belt, heading for the Antevas System. In the back, in a stasis pod, was Joshagk, where he'd been put while still unconscious. It was an easy way to deal with a potential loose thread. As he approached the System, he stopped at Watchtower 680, and had them relay a message to the Banded Priests.

"This is Special Forces Agent First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La'an Tribe of Ra'yral, Subject of the Khyrrian Empire in the Antevas System Outpost 5, Realm 47, requesting entry into the Arko system of the same."

His screen soon showed what would have been an Ataran, had she not been a Banded Priestess. "State your reason for entry."

"I have a penitent from the forsaken Realm 42. He has expressed a desire to leave that realm and seek a peaceful life here."

The lights on the band flashed faster, then the Priestess responded, "you may not enter. However, we will retrieve this penitent's and his honesty will be evaluated. Remain where you are."

"Very well."

Before long a massive ship appeared, and Ryramorl piloted the runabout towards the ship, soon docking with it. He opened the ship, allowing the Banded Priests to board. "Servants of the Empire," he greeted them. "He is here." He brought Joshagk out of stasis, but the Usarin was still drugged. "I only ask that the Federation never learn how he got here. He knows that he was picked up in a Federation Ship."

"That is simple enough. You have turned him over to the Empire. The Empire found use for him here, if his penitence is true," said the lead priest. "But I do not expect many questions. A Carnora Ship from Realm 42 followed the path Talsyn took years ago and has come through the Gate, and the Federation will assume Joshagk was amongst them."

Ryramorl blinked. "The former crime boss Talsyn was from the Mirror Universe?"

"Yes, he was native to Realm 42, that which the Federation calls the Mirror Universe. He and his mates arrived by stealth and guile, as the Masters believed that gate to be inoperable until his trip. They guard it well now, though the Battleship that came through moved too fast to be apprehended before it came here."

"What will happen to those on board?" asked Ryramorl.

"Those unrepentant will be dealt with. Those who are repentant or are unaware shall find a home here. We will say no more."

"I will ask no more, only that I be given leave to depart, and that I be told of Joshagk's fate."

"We will tell you his fate. You may now depart."

Joshagk had already been carried away. The priests departed. Ryramorl closed the runabout hatch, and, when the bay was depressurized, he departed the Banded Priests' ship, then went to Carnor to make his report.

Captain Quentin Lazarus and Mayla Vree

Crew quarters, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.06

Mayla didn't even bother to unpack her ordinance bag from the Resurrection when she got back to her quarters on Umbra Prime. She just took a sonic shower, had something to eat, and went straight to her bunk.

The alpha rhythmic tones in her ears helped her to sleep soundly whenever she wanted. Sometimes she would lay there before hand perusing her messages, writing her reports, or checking up on family or friends all through the flexible lens interface over her corneas. Even with her eyes closed, it gave her the feeling of floating in what the original pioneers of shared access systems on Earth called cyberspace. She had even created a virtual avatar of herself in a thin flowing lavender nightgown with a limited AI personality to represent data access as she 'flew' around performing tasks assigned to it.
A soft chime sounded in her ear, waking her from sleep before a gentle voice spoke to her. "Mayla, I have a mail packet for you. It is from your father marked urgent." Lani soothed the cadence in her speech so as to not alarm Mayla. She activated her eyes' interface and took in the visual notification and how large the packet was. Lani had also created her own virtual avatar of a teenage Trill girl who represented Mayla's deceased younger sister Nilani. The projection of what her sister could have looked like as a teenager now appeared next to the mail packet. It was incredibly huge for just any normal piece of text or even visual mail.

"What is it?" she subvocalized, wriggling a bit in her bed trying to scratch an itch on her now completely healed back. Her sleep clothes rustled noisily in the stillness of her quarters. The station didn't have the constant hum of a starship, but there was a low rumble occasionally as the old station resisted the gravity of Saturn and its moons. Newer starships now have noise cancelers built throughout the frame of the ship to completely remove the hum that usually came with being on a starship.

"It's a holodeck message for Captain Lazarus. You are to personally deliver it directly to him; for his eyes only and discretion. It's about his yuletide gift."

Mayla got up from her bed and walked out to the outer room where the materials replicator was located in a corner alcove next to her desk. "Alright, put it on a holodisc and I'll take it to him." She pressed her hand on the replicator panel giving authorization to create the encrypted holodisc.
The small materials replicator glowed active as it began to create the item and imbue it with the data. "Item creation in progress," the computer announced. "Estimated time to completion is 9 minutes."

Mayla now activated all of the bots in her eyes, opening the flood of information and notifications into her view. She lazily walked over to the food replicator and got herself a thermal mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows and a Bajoran pastry. While perusing through data streaming by in her eyes, she sat down on the window seat that looked out into the field of ice and rock that made up one of the rings of Saturn that Umbra Prime was hiding in. A few messages took her notice. One was a status report from Inverness on Jahkar's household. A complete report of incidents were listed and on which days ever since they left Bajor. In a few weeks, if not sooner, news and interests in Tajel should hopefully wane into obscurity with the help of Inverness.
The next message of note was from Verad Nemtac, manager and the other half owner of Future's Edge at Earth's Spacedock. He wrote about how the restaurant/bar was doing, spreadsheets with profit margins, and how much money was stockpiling into her accounts. He talked about members of the staff, and that they just had a wedding held in the restaurant the previous week. She noticed a slight undertone of a common topic of companionship and how she shouldn't be alone.

The nightclub owner/manager was checking up on her.

She could see her own reflection in the window lit by the light reflecting off the ice and halted the data stream. Wiping the generated screens in her eyes clear except for Verad's message, she stared at the brightly dotted field of view for a few minutes through the reflection on the window of her own eyes. Her contemplation dwelled on what was left of her own adopted family which remained only Kyril, Tylin, Aunt Kaylen, and her grandmother. Her father was still incognito on his long term classified assignment. Tylin had gone off the grid, running away from a legacy he didn't want. Aunt Kaylen was a music instructor at the Trill Symphonic Institute along with her similarly musically inclined husband and their three young children still in school. And her grandmother, Kyril's mother, well into her senior years now probably still fretting over Tylin's departure. She will have to check in on her in the morning. Or have someone check in on her in person. Maybe she should hire someone to help her around the house and what was left of the farm they used to run years ago.

Of course there were others in her life she would consider family. Her "cousin" Victoria, her godmother Kindred Dakota and her son Zac. Jackson Bryce, Khymas Towens, and Nielle Bryce. Tajel, Kedanya and Jahkar. And even the gruff Quentin Lazarus. Now with Sorvek gone, Argonne Jasid and Kianna Ammelis were like a distant uncle and aunt.

She took a sip from her mug as a pang of loss touched her while thinking about Tajel. But that led to another thought. Was there anyone closer than just family or friends? Her sibko brothers and sisters were still around; some comprised her former Echo Team, the rest were with Kyril. But in all the previous lives of the Vree symbiont, all but one had at least one spouse and children. There was only one whose name was most prominent, and it was from a memory from Kyril's experience with the Bravo Squad of the future, led by her future self. In that possible future, there was a hint of romance between that Mayla and her second in command, Zebulon McCreight. But in her current timeline, Zeb had died in an accident over a decade ago.

She leaned her head against the window, chilled for a moment as the cold window touched her bare scalp. She thought back to a time that brought a sad smile across her face, remembering when she and Zeb were at the Academy and how much they had trusted with each other's feelings and thoughts even though she was only 14 at the time. Then she had been…honorably expelled until she became older and didn't stand out too much with the knowledge of 3 full Starfleet Academy educations she already had in her head. Zeb was three years her senior, but at the time, they were barely anything more than good friends. Maybe if they had been older, who knows what could have happened.

A sound from the replicator brought her attention back to her quarters as a small four centimeter diameter blue holo data disc appeared. "Replication is completed, Mayla."

She walked across the room and picked up the holodisc. "Thank you, Lani. Send a notification of receipt to Kyril and scrub the data from the replicator memory and buffer."

"Affirmative."

She fingered the holodisc in her hand and tried to speculate what was on it, and how Lazarus was going to react to this news. Whatever it was. She made note of the hour, and disregarded the lateness. For news like this, there was no time like the present to wait on.

"Vree to Captain Lazarus, can you please meet me in Holodeck 1 on Deck 4."

"For what?" a sleepy gruff voice urged.

"It's about THAT yuletide gift."

His voice suddenly became clear and awake. "Meet you there."

She took her time to take another quick shower and tried to comb what was currently called her haircut. Donning into her standard jumpsuit uniform and placing the holodisc into a pocket, she stepped out of her quarters with a fresh thermal mug of hot cocoa in hand. The carpeted corridor outside led to the center spine of the station where the turbolifts were located for all the habitat hubs. She walked by the doors of the rest of Phoenix Squad's quarters and went up to Deck 4. Walking by Phoenix Squad's personal gyms in the quiet middle of the night, she stopped at the single large group holodeck. She saw that it was active. The captain was probably already inside.

She took a sip of her cocoa before stepping closer to the door so the sensors would allow her entry. Lazarus was standing with his own thermal mug of something in one hand.

"Why in the middle of the night?" He asked after the door closed behind her. "We just got back and all I wanted was a full night's sleep."

"I was sleeping too when this came in marked urgent." She pulled out the disc and handed it over to him. "It's from Kyril. I was instructed to give it to you directly."

His demeanor immediately changed, almost angry. "How the hell does he get messages to you without any trace?"

She shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Same way he sends us the yuletide gifts? Sorcery?"

"That's one thing I know for sure about your father, he's no sorcerer," he grunted knowing fully well asking the same questions every time this happened was a futile attempt at what the elder Trill was up to. He looked down at the holodisc in his other hand as if there was something written on it. His face changed slightly to an almost fearful look of what was going to be revealed to him. He stood motionless for nearly a minute, just staring at the disc.

"Have you seen it?" he asked, still not taking his eyes off of it.

She shook her head. "No, it's not my right. It's coded to your access only. You'll have to load it into the holodeck yourself."

Lazarus instantly snapped out of his thoughts. "Computer, Arch."

The nostalgic Arch appeared in front of them. Lazarus put down his mug on the console and slotted in the disc. He went through several layers of encryption and access codes before it allowed the holodeck to disseminate the program and have it ready to run. He put a hand on the side of the Arch and leaned wearily against it. His other hand felt his wife's necklace through the fabric of his pants pocket.

"I supposed this couldn't wait until morning," he grumbled lightly. His heart sped up slightly with anticipation.

"Do you want me to stay?" Mayla asked hesitantly.

Lazarus stared at the computer screen while waiting for the holodeck to finish compiling the program. The personal emotional part of him said no. But the angry part of him said yes. He decided to go with the angry part of him. "Yes, if you don't mind. I'd like you here in case I need to take a swing at your father for doing this to me. You'll have to take the hit."

The Trill woman just nodded. "Very well, Quentin." This was not the time to recognize rank. She was here to support a friend. And the few occasions she addressed him by his given name reminded him although he was physically older than she, her mind would be hundreds, if not a thousand years older than he. And with the recent addition of Sorvek's life's memories from the mind meld, it just increased the years of her experiences. Very few people knew what she was capable of.

The computer chimed completion.

"Computer, run program," he said, nearly wavering at the last word. The Arch disappeared and a scenery appeared around them. He was afraid of what he was about to see.

Federation Colony

Osaka Prime

37 Years Ago

"Do you hear that?" The Vulcan medic, Sorik, calmly said in their native language over the comms in his contamination suit right after they beamed down from the Vulcan medical ship, Lyras. His nearly 40 years as an emergency medical technician had taught him to easily suppress his emotions from the death and carnage that littered the streets around him and his emergency medical team. The air-dispersed metagenic torpedo left less than half the population of the colony alive, but barely. Over a dozen ships responded to the colony's distress communique. The Lyras was one of the first few ships to arrive in orbit. And to see the carnage firsthand.

One of his subordinates, L'iara, swung her tricorder towards the sound, trying to read the scan through the air filled with a mist of death. "Faint lifesigns. Approximately ten meters in that direction." She pointed towards what looked like a marketplace under overhangs from the storefronts all the way up and down the street. One storefront doorway had nearly a dozen bodies piled up on top of one another nearly to the top of the door as if they were trying to climb over each other to get inside away from the raining poison.

Sorik held up his hand to silence his team. There, it was a faint cry. His sharp ears pinpointed its location through the external capture microphones in his suit. "Quickly, this way."

His rescue team moved with the precision of a coordinated special operations unit towards the pile of bodies, avoiding overturned carts and spilled foodstuffs scattered all across the streets. Even though most of the metagenic particles had dissipated from this area with the breeze, his team still wore level 2 environmental suits fully equipped with audio, video, and sensor monitoring that was instantly relayed back to the ship in orbit. The well trained medical response team moved as if they weren't even wearing one. Within seconds they were pulling partially dissolved bodies off the pile as they could now hear the wailing. As stoic an emotionless as a Vulcan can be, hearing the painful cries of a child spurred their movements even faster.

In another minute, they had removed most of the bodies to reveal at the bottom of the pile were three children wrapped in the arms of a Vulcan woman. The experienced team leader quickly identified what needed to be done and gave clear and concise instructions to administer what meds they had on hand for metagenic poisoning to halt the continued dissolution of DNA. The tricorder showed only the innermost buried child was alive. And a faint lifesign from the woman. The other two children weren't. His logical mind went first to the child before the adult.

But from his decades of experience as a medic, he knew the woman wasn't going to survive. The metagenic particles had scarred away nearly half her body and dissolved away most of her blood as the DNA broke down. All he could do was to make her comfortable, knowing there was no hope in saving her. The child on the other hand, a half Vulcan half Human female, had a chance. He took it upon himself to carefully extract her from her mother, nearly snagging the mother's hand on the necklace around the child's neck.

"Lyras," he called to the ship. "I require an infant medical stasis unit beamed to my location immediately." He started pulling out med pads from his waist pack to put over the visible open wounds he could see on the child. The medicated pads would stabilize the deteriorating flesh from causing further damage. There was no cure for exposure to metagenic particles. Only tissue regeneration could repair the damage. And it would leave a lot of scarring.
Suddenly with surprising strength and determination, the woman reached out a hand and gripped his arm. "Save…them…."

Sorik saw the light of life leave the woman as her partially dissolved head lolled forward, her grip still tight as a Vulcan's can be. He pried her hand from his arm and carefully placed the wounded child into the stasis unit. L'iara had already begun programming it for what the child needed as soon as the unit was beamed down. The now whimpering child seemed limp and weak in his arms as he placed her inside as gently as he could before closing the unit. L'iara immediately activated it and the wailing abated.

"Lyras, stasis unit is stable and ready to beam up. We are on the move." The team moved on to the next faint lifesign reading on their suit's sensors.
The scenery changed around Lazarus and Mayla to the interior of a ship, following the travels of the small stasis unit.

Medical Bay 2

VS Lyras, above Osaka Prime

"Stasis unit transporting in," the nurse announced, watching the unit materialize on the triage transporter pad built directly in the medical bay.
"Is this the one Sorik called for?"

"It is."

The head nurse looked over the medical readings on the stasis unit, tapped a few keystuds to administer a different set of meds. Sorik's first aid most likely saved this child's life. "Code her Yellow, she is in stable condition." He immediately turned his attention to the ones they were not sure of yet.

Less than two hours later, the ship was over capacity with wounded. The crew continued to save lives as the ship immediately left orbit of Osaka Prime and set a course to the nearest starbase. But a communique alarm sounded just before they left the star system.

"Captain, we are receiving a distress signal along our flight path. The readings indicate the source to be debris from a Bolian ship."

"We are already over capacity," the Captain said. But he knew he had no choice. "Set up triage outside the docking corridor. We will treat them there. Helm, set intercept course and order a triage medical team at the starboard docking port."

Within a few minutes, the Lyras approached the large floating debris that was once a part of what looked like a Bolian transport ship. Using the tractor beam, they towed the debris close to the docking collar and aligned towards what looked like a hatch to make the best seal they could.

"Activating magnetic seal. Connection complete," the Bridge announced. "Forcefield is showing green. You are clear to activate airlock."

Sorik and his team stood at the ready, medkits and stretchers on hand ready to receive new wounded. L'iara stood by the door panel watching the sensors as the ship swayed a bit with the new mass attached to it.

"Check for stray contaminants, then proceed to open the hatch," he ordered.

"Computer indicates it is clear. Opening hatch." she said.

The hatch opened with a whoosh of an atmospheric change to show several wounded Cardassians standing shoulder to shoulder filling up the companionway.
"How many wounded are you?" Sorik asked while gesturing to several of his team to enter with him into the docking collar to assist.

Two of them were supporting a third in the middle as they limped forward. "Seven," said the man on the right. There was a sound of something being dragged behind them.

"Please move quickly. We do not know how long this atmospheric seal will last if we-"

The three Cardassians in front pulled out disruptors and opened fire. Sorik and the two of his team were instantly struck and killed. Behind them, a fourth Cardassian activated a localized metagenic bomb.

There was no time to react. The particles began to disperse quickly into the Lyras from the change in atmosphere. The computer detected the deadly contaminant and attempted to seal off the docking hatch. But the dead Vulcan bodies were in the way. The particles floated into the Vulcan ship before anyone could erect the forcefields.

With the computer announcing a containment failure, the Vulcan crew members attempted to seal off all sections of the ship. But it was too late, the metagenic detonator had already ignited, flooding the docking corridor and into the bowels of the Vulcan ship.

"Metagenic containment failure." The ship's computer emotionlessly announced again over the ship wide comm system. "Full contamination is imminent. Evacuate immediately."

In medical bay 2, a nurse quickly programmed the transporter to beam as many patients and stasis units into escape pods and to launch them before the metagenic particles overtook her.

VS DVir (VS Crimson Shadow, Vulcan scout ship)

Osaka Prime system

"It is the VS Lyras, their distress signal was brief. 'Complete metagenic contamination. In distress.'" The tactical officer continued reading the sensors forensically. "They attempted to rescue the stranded Cardassians on the stolen Bolian ship we just attacked."

"That was poor judgment on their part," the Captain said, a female Vulcan with a heart and blood of stone and ice. "The metagenic torpedoes used on the colony came from these ships." She pondered for a few moments on whether or not to answer the distress call or not, or even to look for survivors. But her ship was a clandestine scout ship, built for speed and surveillance. They had shadowed the Bolian ships knowing what they were carrying, but had to wait to see what their destination was. By the time they were able to act, the Cardassians had already fired the metagenic torpedoes at the Osaka Prime Colony. As Vulcan as they could be, they had no choice but to watch the torpedoes spread its poison. The Captain knew any sort of metagenic contamination rarely left any survivors. Maybe if she delayed her decision by a few minutes, maybe there wouldn't be anyone left to attempt to rescue.

"We have detected several escape pods in the vicinity, Captain." Her tactical officer reported. "There are active lifesigns in them. There are no longer any lifesigns on the Lyras."

The captain pondered her next decision. The ship was Vulcan. It was their duty to attempt to rescue them even though it was too late for those on the ship. Despite her reputation of being stoic and cold, she decided assisting a handful of escape pods wouldn't hurt. They were leaving the star system anyway.

"Bring us to condition Green, stand down from stealth mode. Begin recovery operations and be certain there are no metagenic particles outside nor inside those pods. Keep the survivors isolated from the sensitive areas of the ship."

Her second in command looked at her before relaying her orders. "This will cause some concerns for our superiors if we are discovered here."

"We will indicate in our flight logs that this occurred in the Tartaras System."

"Near Breen space?"

"Far from here. After recovery operations are completed, make course for the Vulcan medical facility on Mareuvia III. It is close to Breen space."

"Yes, Captain."

Mareuvia III

Vulcan Medical/Research station

Medical Bay 11

"What do we have here?" the chief medical nurse performing triage asked as he walked from another stasis pod that was beamed over first from a Vulcan supply ship. There was no time to dock the ship and manually transfer the wounded over, so almost all of them were transported directly to this medical bay. The ship had then immediately departed.

"Female child approximately two years old, half human, metagenic poisoning, hyronalin has already been administered."

"Prepare the tissue replicator ready for all of these patients. Have her DNA profiled and begin the process of incubation. I don't want to wake her to feel any of this." For a Vulcan, he had reconciled his emotions to at least try to empathically treat his patients. Because if they died, they at least had some measure of peace and tranquility.

Mareuvia III

Vulcan Medical/Research station

+41 days

Nurse Iria checked the charts on the child every day while she was still unconscious. The genetic treatments combined with tissue cocooning allowed the child's own regenerative cells to have the sterile environment to flourish and heal.

"I suspected I would find you in here," the human male orderly said as he came in pushing a small antigrav medicine cart. "I need you to check on these meds for patient Beta 7." He looked at a padd on his cart. "And for this one, Alpha 4," he said, giving a nod over to the young child.

"She has been here for over a month, I believe it is time we gave her a name," Iria said as she looked at the child's chart indicating her as Alpha 4.
"Then maybe you should." He showed her his padd. "You've been assigned as her rehabilitation nurse."

One of her Vulcan eyebrows raised in question. "Someone has been observing me too closely."

"I would say so, you're in here several times a day, Iria. More than any other nurse. But it doesn't take Vulcan logic to figure out you have a…er…soft spot for this child."

Iria looked at the young face of the half human child as if imagining what her adulthood would be like. As if on cue, the little girl's eyes suddenly opened for the first time. What Iria saw wasn't the look of a frightened child; it was a look of determination and resolve. She tapped into the chart a name for the child. A small indicator on the medbed monitor lit up to show she was now fully awake.

Lorak smiled at the coincidence and looked at the chart before giving an approving nod of the name Iria had given her. "T'Via, lady of life."

"And I hope she will be." Iria said, tapping a few keys on the monitor to inform the nurses station that the patient was now awake and alert. "Did you see that look she had? She is strong willed. I will be sure to provide her a good start to live up to her name."

Mareuvia III

Vulcan Medical/Research station

+194 Days

"Has she spoken since the last time I saw her?" the therapy counselor asked Iria.

Holding T'Via in her lap, Iria shook her head. "No. And it does not have anything to do with the metagenic poisoning. The verbal centers in her brain have not been damaged. And her physical wounds and integrated artificial muscles and organs have now been completely accepted and regrown. She is still going to live a long life." Iria looked down at the child with affection, as much as a Vulcan can. T'Via continued to play with Iria's fingers while her head leaned against Iria's chest.

"I think it is time for her to be placed into foster care. This silence since she arrived here has me concerned about her mental health and maybe some residual post traumatic memories she hasn't reconciled with yet."

Iria's lips pursed along with the tightening around her eyes as she suppressed her emotions of separation anxiety. The counselor noticed the reaction as she was trained to watch for these very signs of involuntary attachments.

"Iria, she is physically healed. Now it is time for us to work on her mind, her personality, and how she will live for the rest of her life. There may be some emotional trauma we need to help her work out. Even though she is half human, she still has a very long life ahead of her. It is time for a trained foster parent to take over the inner healing process now."

"She…has grown an attachment to me. I am concerned it may do more damage than good to separate us now."

"I am sorry, but it is hospital policy." The counselor gave her a comforting smile. "But there is an alternative. I looked at what we know of her, which is very little, and she hasn't been reported missing nor has anyone claimed her. Her parents were most likely killed on that ship her escape pod ejected from. She has been officially labeled an orphan. I know you are childless, so there is the option of you adopting her as your own."

"Adoption?" Iria looked down at the little girl and never thought she would literally become ultimately responsible for her, and for the rest of her life. "Am I allowed to have some time to think about it?"

The counselor gave her a nod. "I will give you a day to think about it, then she will be transferred to foster care. We have many foster care parents willing to take in orphaned children. Even a half Vulcan one."

Saying their goodbyes, the counselor watched the future mother and daughter walk out of her office. She tapped a key on her padd, closing her report.

Vulcan Science Academy
+18 years

"You are... kidding, Temporal Physics? So you're going to be a TPS?" He said, using a human slang he always deemed comfortable to use whenever he was with her. It stood for Temporal Physics Stoolie. She had read many of the many studies and papers related to Temporal Physics, if not all of them. The TPS reports were dry reading, but she found them fascinating.

T'Via gave her friend a knock on the shoulder, harder than she normally did. He was a Vulcan, he could take it.

"What's your emphasis then, Mr. All Thrusters and No Thrust?"

Elieth lounged back in his chair in the noisy quad of the campus as he looked up at a mural on the side of the student housing building. "Molecular artist."

"Now who's kidding who?" T'Via laughed. Being half human allowed her a sense of humor. Her mother had instilled in her since childhood to embrace who she was as a child of two cultures...when it was appropriate.

"I am not kidding. I will be the first painter to develop a pigment that will change colors in different types of heat, dampness, even light, and at the same time, sanitize the air."

"That's ambitious for someone who eats his way out of his thermal molecular photonics class." She said half jokingly, not quite sure he would even get the joke. She looked over to the side and eyed a group of Vulcans coming their way.

He noticed the look and put a hand on her forearm. "You had better not."

"Only if they start something."

"Half breed." One of the boys, the leader by his obvious stance in front of the four others, yelled to her.

"I believe they are starting something." T'Via stood up and struck a pose which she discovered early on in her life that immensely annoyed Vulcans. "You want somethin', big boy?" she said using an accented Vulcan dialect she saw once in a holovid.

"There is no escape from trouble this time," Elieth murmured to himself, meaning fully well that trouble didn't mean with these troublemakers, but with the Academy's headmaster. He knew T'Via could take care of herself. He just sat back in his chair to enjoy the show.

"You seek to challenge me again, but this time with what seems to be much needed additional assistance?" T'Via said loudly. "There is a human word for that." Then she switched to Federation standard. "Coward."

The troublemaker threw down his book bag; his friends followed suit. Obviously, he was allowing his anger to surface. "You will resign from the Academy, and get your half human, what do they call it, ass to Earth where you belong with the rest of the primitive apes."

T'Via struck a nonchalant pose, another gesture of indifference that also irritated Vulcans. "Why, I LOVE it here on Vulcan. But even if I didn't, I would rather stay here just so I can irritate you into doing something obviously…unintelligent."

Two broken noses, three sprained ankles, a dozen bruises, and a concussion later, T'Via's friend was the lone figure still sitting in his chair who couldn't contain a laughing smirk with his best friend as she and the troublemakers were escorted away by Campus security.

The scene of the Vulcan Science Academy quad now disappeared, showing the gridded lines of the holodeck. A lone figure appeared in front of Lazarus and Mayla. It was Kyril Vree. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but just standard SO fatigues that now seem so out of fashion.

"Quentin, I hope this message finds you well. It took us over a year to sift through and compile all that you saw here from archived video log footage, ship and station manifests, duty logs, and interviews to gain first and second hand verbal accounts of these events. We tried to be as detailed as we could. I know how much this could mean to you. My team spent all of their time researching and investigating the course of Carolyn's life path from the moment she was rescued until that last incident at the Vulcan Science Academy. I know it wasn't much considering her entire life, but the important parts were included here. The rest is on the disc.

"How we came about finding her in the first place was purely by chance. We were looking into her research on a…future related matter and she became friends with my team leader. We didn't even connect any dots until we've already worked with her for nearly a year when she revealed her past to my team, specifically, that necklace. A simple DNA scan comparison with yours showed us she was your daughter. But I knew you would want to know for sure how she survived, and T'Lara and your twin boys didn't. That's when our research began to investigate her origins and to backtrack her connection to Osaka Prime.

"I have already sent you the necklace that once belonged to your wife. It is currently on loan to us from T'Via. For as long as we've known her, she has always had it around her neck. We believe she still holds on to her origins as several psychiatric reports indicated, which I have also included here for you to read. From our interviews with people she knew, her adopted mother's progressive views allowed the strengths from both sides of T'Via's shared cultures to be nurtured, not suppressed considering she was brought up on Vulcan.

"So that's it. I leave the rest to you from here. Tell Mayla if there's anything further we can do for you, say if you want us to make the introductions for you, or relay a message to her, or if you decide to allow the past to stay in the past and return the necklace to her. Mayla will get word to us and we can move on from there. We have not informed T'Via of our findings yet. I felt it was necessary to let you know first. The choice is entirely up to you and I will abide by whatever you decide. But in the end, I will eventually have to give T'via what we've discovered about her origins. I believe it is only fair that everyone has the right to know where they come from.

"T'Via is currently the second lead temporal physicist with Starfleet Temporal R&D. The project she is on is classified, as is supposedly her location. So please use this information with discretion. Good luck. And don't take it out too hard on Mayla. She was only the messenger."

Vree's image disappeared and the holodeck program ended. The Arch ejected the holodisc, patiently waiting for its owner to decide on the next course of action.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra'yral

Special Forces Headquarters, Capitol City, Carnor

Stardate 2303.06

In the highly personality-driven politics of Carnor, it was no surprise that the first thing on Ryramorl's agenda after handing over Joshagk was not a visit with Olvern OverKing Shor-Ghan Roshaigaro in the Arnor Mountains, but his old friend and mentor Shor-Ghan. The two Olvern embraced and rubbed faces together.

"So, how goes it on the long hunt?" he asked.

"I hunt here, I hunt there," said Ryramorl "We run down a thousand prey."

"I'm beginning to wonder how long you'll be out there," said Shor-Ghan. "I'm getting old enough that the succession becomes more and more of an issue. Shor-Talo is seeking a mate, but will the offspring of a broken father be accepted? I am… doubtful, and so I have decided."

Ryramorl rumbled softly.

"I want you to start getting Ee'an to loosen up. Become less formal and more outgoing."

"Why is that, Shor-Ghan?" asked Ryramorl.

"He is knowledgeable of both the Ancient Tribes and the New Tribes, I hear. He is strong, he is wise, from what I understand. If he can stand before the leaders of the other tribes as I do, I will offer Sha-Tam as a mate, and he shall be my heir."

Ryramorl took in a deep breath. "I would be honoured."

"And Myaral would have your hide if you said no," laughed Shor-Ghan. "We will discuss more later. Hworyal wants to see you."

Ryramorl gave an account of what had happened in the Mirror Universe. He admitted what had happened with the young Usarin, and that Captain Lazarus had violated more than a few laws to get him back, as well as what the Banded Priests said they would tell the Federation.

"Then that's what we'll tell them—if they even bother to ask. Did they tell you what happened at the Gate?"

"That something came through."

Hworyal fired up some equipment, and showed Ryramorl the footage. "The Overseer barely had time to warn us before this thing came barrelling in. Guess the captain wanted to continue fighting, but that ship was half-fried already. We're fixing it up… too good just to scrap."

Ryramorl pondered, looking at the ship.

"What's on your mind, Ra'yral?"

"Lazarus would roar loud enough to scare the Lonely Worlds if he saw this ship again," he said.

Hworyal chuckled. "Federation has been asking what the energy signal was in our system. We haven't told them anything, but if your direct superiors ask, give them this." He handed over a scroll. "It explains what it was—and that it's classified information."

Ryramorl nodded, then he looked at the ship. "How much is the down payment on that? I know a few Ra'yral tribes who wish to be nomadic amongst the stars."

Joshagk

Arko System

Stardate 2303.07

Joshagk looked at the Carnora around him, all of whom had strange, blinking implants on them, as well as the being on the screen. "Who–who are you?"
"We are the Banded Priests," said one in a perfect monotone. "The one who brought you aboard the USS Resurrection has turned you over to the Khyrrian Empire."

The Overseer spoke to the young Usarin. "We have been told you wish to repent of your race's evil ways and begin your life anew. Is this correct?"
"It is," said Joshagk, trying not to tremble.

"And will you bow to the Khyrrian Empire and obey its laws?"

"I will."

"Raise your head to bare your throat, if you are honest."

Joshagk did, feeling weak in the legs.

A Banded Priest bigger than he pressed the heel of his palm on Joshagk's throat. "You have much to atone for, " said the Priest. "But we will help you through this. Should you prove your sincerity, we will repair your body in preparation for your new life."

## S5, E2, Act 3: Grounded

Captain Quentin Lazarus and Commander Mayla Vree

Holodeck, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.08

Lazarus stood silently in the holodeck, speechless after the message from Kyril Vree and the holographic files he'd sent through Mayla. The captain was numb, unable to move, to think, or even feel.

"Quentin, are you alright?" Mayla finally asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"All these years…why didn't someone run a DNA test on her right after the attack? They would have found out she was MY daughter! I was in the Starfleet Medical system, aboard the USS Goddard, fighting for my life! Matching our DNA should have been easy!"

Mayla shook her head, "It was mass confusion…"

"They TOOK her from me!" Lazarus barked, looking around like a feral beast suddenly emerging from the calm, cool exterior he usually portrayed. "There's no reason they shouldn't have discovered we were related!"

Mayla sensed the anger rising within the captain, a rage she had never seen from him before. His outburst was fortunately confined to the holodeck where it was just the two of them. She just wasn't sure how to calm him down.

"Jaegar!" he snarled.

"What?" Mayla pressed, eyes narrowing.

"He had them craft me into a damn cybernetic soldier, kept me from my only surviving child and sent me on missions to suit his needs," Lazarus said through gritted teeth. "He covered it all up! That had to be it! He needed me to be angry, hateful to weaponize me against the Cardassians!"

The only other thought that came to Quentin was the woman who adopted Carolyn may have altered records to hide the DNA match so she could take Carolyn from him.

Lazarus felt ill after taking both options into consideration and braced himself against the arch with one hand. Tears welled in his eyes and he lowered his head, sobbing. "Why? Why did they do this to me? Why did they take her from me?"

Mayla went over it in her mind of the data presented to them. Maybe there were some clues leading to Jaegar's involvement, but without seeing it, she couldn't make a judgment call. Maybe Kyril didn't mention that part on purpose? It all seemed like a mistake of circumstances that led to the 'loss' of Carolyn's whereabouts after the attack. She was reported discovered far from Osaka Prime and the chances anyone could have linked the two incidents was low based on the subterfuge created by the Vulcan scout ship and the lack of information they provided when the child was dropped off at Mareuvia III. There was no reason for them to attempt to find family as no one had claimed a missing child near Breen space.

It took her a moment to recognize what the outburst of emotions to be, and waited until his seething subsided a little bit before she spoke. "I think you may be looking too much into this. From what we've seen, there was no evidence of anything clandestine done here. Until we look at the additional data Kyril may have found," she hesitated for just a moment before continuing. "I really don't believe he would have hidden something like that from you. Especially considering what Jaegar did to the organization. Kyril has no loyalty to him."

He let out a growl with an aggressive sound of frustration. "Your FATHER! He did this from his almighty perch wherever the hell he is, still trying to control and play on people's emotions to further his own agenda."

"Your anger is warranted. But please consider the chance that Carolyn's survival could really have been an unfortunate set of circumstances that led to her being lost in the system. It happens. I'm sorry that it could have happened here."

He grabbed the holodisc and fingered it firmly, as if trying to squeeze the truth and meaning of his decades of suffering from it.

"Quentin, my friend, think about what you want to do now. Now that you know she's alive. She carried that necklace with her her whole life, still clinging onto the only connection she had to her real family. Don't turn that act into anger. You may regret doing something that's irreversible. You don't want to lose the opportunity that's opened to you now to reconnect."

"So that's what your lifetimes' worth of wisdom says to you?" He shot at her.

"Those lifetimes also experienced suffering and loss. That tells me that it is a fact of life everyone goes through at some point in their lives to a certain degree. Some more so than others. The outcome is always to look what to do next with what you have. I know you're angry, and you can ask Kyril to investigate further if anyone in Starfleet had any hand in coordinating this sequence of events. But I don't really know if knowing the answer would give you any more peace of mind than the fact that your daughter is alive right now."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Umbra Prime, Sol System

Stardate 2303.08

Lazarus left the holodeck after he collected himself, wiped away his tears and let the redness in his face fade away.

The captain then headed straight to his quarters, ignoring the windowed view of parts of the small station with the massive orb of Saturn behind it. Normally he would take note of the view, but now he was on a mission.

"Commander Sornax," Lazarus said to the Denobulan over the comm system. "I need to take a shuttle back to Earth. Something has come up."

Sornax considered questioning the captain, but decided it was better not to after the previous reactions he'd received to unwanted queries. He simply acknowledged.

Lazarus headed out towards the shuttle bay. On his way he opened a channel on his subvocal communicator to Admiral MacLeod, who was in engineering talking to Carmichael and his team about the ship.

"Admiral, I need you to send authorization to Starfleet giving me immediate access to Jaegar in New Zealand," Quentin said. "I'll explain later. For now, I'll just say he may have answers to questions I have."

There was a long pause. MacLeod could hear the trouble in his voice. "You OK, Quentin?"

"I am," Lazarus said. "Can we talk when I get back?"

"Very well," MacLeod replied. "I expect you to come straight to me and report when you get back."

"Thanks," Lazarus said. He arrived in the hangar bay and signed off on a shuttle. A short time later, he was quickly bound for Earth where he hoped he could get some answers about why he was not reunited with Carolyn all those years earlier.

After attaining Earth orbit, Lazarus realized it was six hours until the sun would be up at the New Zealand Penal Colony. In his anger and haste, he'd forgotten about the time difference so, he decided to wait.

Quentin crawled into a bunk in the aft compartment and took a nap, which wasn't really a nap but more of a six hour period where he tossed and turned and thought about this injustice that had been done to both he and Carolyn.

No matter what Mayla or Kyril thought, Lazarus did not believe this was some logistical error. Not in this day and age. Someone had sabotaged the possibility of him and his daughter being reunited, Quentin had no doubt.

The six hours passed, sleeplessly for the captain, and Lazarus beamed down to the administration section of the New Zealand Penal Colony. After his arrival the administrators ushered him into a room where he and Jaegar could meet. It was clear from the expedited treatment he'd received MacLeod had spoken with someone there, clearing any hurdles that would keep him from seeing the Section 31 criminal.

When Jaegar entered the room, Lazarus felt his blood boil. He'd not seen the man in several years. MacLeod had visited, more or less to work the former Shadow Ops admiral over for information, but Jaegar wanted nothing to do with him.

He reminded himself he'd rather not be here, but he needed answers. He deserved answers. And somehow he was going to get them.
"Well, will you look at that!" Erik Jaegar, dressed in a plain red jumpsuit, shouted as he laid eyes on the captain. "If it isn't Captain Quentin Lazarus…in the flesh! More flesh than the last time I saw you…where'd all your robot parts go, Quentin?"

Lazarus, seated at a table, gritted his teeth as the former Section 31 operative sat down across from him and sat there with an evil grin as he looked his former friend over.

"I had them removed, replaced with cloned organic parts," Lazarus muttered.

"Surely they could fix that cyber-implant in your brain? Can't clone brains, otherwise we might have a Federation Council with a little more common sense."

Immediately trying to lure him into a political debate. Lazarus was amazed at this audacity of this man. He had no shame, no embarrassment at being arrested, charged and convicted of treason against the Federation. No, instead he was going to imply the Federation Council was being led by people with no brains.

"Erik," Lazarus said, his voice steady and firm. "I'm here about Carolyn…my daughter."

There was a flicker of recognition in Jaegar's eyes at the mention of Carolyn's name. Lazarus wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he could almost hear the gears turning in his former CO's head.

"Carolyn. I remember you speaking of her. Poor thing," Jaeger shook his head sorrowfully.

"Erik, she's alive," Quentin told the ex-admiral. "Somehow they missed the DNA match between us after the attack on Osaka Prime. She was adopted and is living elsewhere in the Federation."

Jaeger nodded, "Well, I guess with nearly 30,000 colonists dead it's possible mistakes could have been made."

Lazarus sat quietly for a moment, then pressed on. "Erik, did you know?"

Jaeger laughed and shook his head, "That's what this is all about? You want to know if I had anything to do with you and Carolyn being separated?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," Lazarus said.

"We didn't even know each other when she died, or you thought she died," Jaegar said. "We met afterwards, when you went to work for me in black ops. Remember?"

Lazarus nodded, "I've thought about our relationship in those years after Osaka Prime. You came to me when I was recovering from my injuries. You recruited me, gave me a purpose, gave me direction. But as I recall our years of working together, you used me. You took me and directed my anger and hatred for the Cardassians and made me into a weapon. I told myself it just worked out that way, but you used me to kill Cardassians, destroy their facilities and equipment and to inflict as much damage upon them as I could."

Jaeger, with a wry smile, nodded his head, "You were an efficient killer. You were a weapon, Quentin, and I used you exactly how you needed to be used. You wanted vengeance, I gave it to you."

A chill ran down Lazarus' spine. Jaeger wasn't confirming his suspicions, but he was beginning to fold back the layers to show his hand. It was coming, an admission of guilt…Lazarus could feel it.

"Did you know?" he demanded in a low, growling voice.

Jaegar stared at him a long time, then finally gave a sharp exhale. "You were on a list of Starfleet Intelligence operatives I wanted to talk to, recruitment for black ops and, secretly, possible work for Section 31. When I found out you were nearly killed in the attack on Osaka Prime, your family wiped out, I saw potential.

"When I arrived at the scene, it was pure chaos. Medical ships treating the wounded, Starfleet warships protecting the system as ships arrived to evac the survivors," he continued. "I visited your room. You were in a coma. They were discussing options. None of them were good…for you.

"The cybernetics were your best chance, but the medical staff on the Goddard felt you'd been through too much trauma. That the cybernetics would turn you into something non-human. But I cut through all that red tape and got you put back together," Jaeger explained. "In the middle of this whole effort to save your life, someone from Starfleet Medical reached out and said they'd found your daughter. She was alive. Being that I had myself listed as your new CO and there was no one else for them to speak with regarding your condition, I did the right thing Quentin and I told them to find that little girl a nice home, because her daddy wasn't going to be in any condition to raise her, that was if he even survived."

Lazarus stared at Jaegar in disbelief, unable to respond as the former head of Shadow Ops gave a deep sigh and kept on running his mouth, "Took a little work and some help from my Section 31 connections, but we managed to make the DNA matches between you and Carolyn disappear, the query from the rescuers who found her also went away and we even expedited her adoption."

"WHY?" Lazarus gasped, his chest and stomach clenching as he fought to restrain himself from going after Jaegar. "Why would you do that to me? You had no right! You had no reason!"

"I had a lot of reasons, Quentin. War was upon us, with those Cardassian animals, and I needed an asset who would do what was necessary to hurt them for what they had done…for what they were going to do. You did that! You killed hundreds of them. You ought to be proud of yourself Lazarus, and be thankful. Because of me you didn't have any distractions holding you back from becoming that perfect asset I needed and you had three times the motivation to kill for me than you would have had if your family had survived. Hell, I should have gotten a medal for…"

Lazarus roared in anger as he came up over and across the table, hands grasping Jaegar around his throat as he and Jaegar tumbled backwards out of the chair and onto the floor.

Jaeger looked up into Lazarus' eyes and saw the killer instinct he'd encouraged in the man all those years earlier. He was a little surprised when the guards grabbed Quentin and tried to pull him off Jaegar, only to find his right hand still easily clutching him by the throat.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, I kept the arm too," Lazarus hissed as he felt the fingers of his mechanical hand starting to crush Jaegar's trachea. "I'm going to make you pay for what you did to me, Erik!"

One of the four guards trying to pull him off the Section 31 operative finally slammed a fist down on the back of Lazarus' head, dazing him and causing him to finally let go of Jaegar. Two guards pulled Jaegar out from under Lazarus and the other two yanked the captain away from the prisoner.

"There he is! That's the Quentin Lazarus I remember! The cold blooded killer!" Jaegar laughed as he was dragged from the room. "Tell Ian I miss him! I much prefer his visits over yours. And if you see that daughter of yours, tell her I said hello and no hard feelings!"

When Jaegar was finally gone, the guards released
Lazarus in time for their commanding officer, a Starfleet commander named Dwight Herzog, rushed in and approached Lazarus.
"What the hell was that?" Herzog demanded. "You nearly killed him!"

"He deserves to die!" Lazarus barked. "I'd have done the entire Federation a favor."

"He's a piece of work, but you can't do that," Herzog chided the captain. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You are banned from further visits to this facility."

Lazarus straightened his uniform and smirked, "Don't worry, I won't be back to see that miserable bastard."

Minutes later, Lazarus beamed back to the shuttlecraft and he began his trip back to Outpost Umbra Prime. During the trip, Lazarus left the ship on autopilot as he sat in the aft compartment of the shuttle, tears running down his face as he considered the life he could have had rather than the one Jaegar had guided him into.

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Carnor, Antevas System

Stardate 2303.09

Hworyal leaned back in his chair. "Any clue why the Mirror Universe Carnora would come barrelling through like that? Should we prepare for an invasion?"

Ryramorl grunted in disagreement. "I don't think so. So far as anyone knows, that one battleship is all that was left. And just before we left, we overheard an edict from the Terran Empire. The Carnora were to be wiped out—at least in that part of Realm 42. I don't know what happened to any other outpost there."

"I could ask the Overseer. He's never mentioned any other Outpost, and he's talked as if that was the only one. Mm. No wonder the Carnora made a run for it. Though if they'd bared their throat from the get-go, I think the Khyrrians might have simply let them on their way—after a Cleansing, that is."
"The damage could have been inflicted by the Terran Empire. I know they got into a shooting match before fleeing."

Hworyal nodded. "Realm 42 battleship aside, how go things in Shadow Operations?"

Ryramorl explained what he figured he was allowed to about their recent fight with the Cardassians, and how Reepchip felt he'd failed to perform his duties. "He did waaaaaay better in this mission, though."

"Good. I know that Muran has potential, but he's too squeamish."

"Speaking of Reepchip, he has legitimately bonded with the ship, and he has no elder Shaman to guide him. And the special drive is nothing like what is built in the Arko System--at least, so far as anyone knows what the Banded Priests are up to. He's feeling rather lost when it comes to the Silent Voice."

"Rygaran should have gone, not you," growled Hworyal. "Any chance of training?"

"Unlikely. Captain Lazarus doesn't trust our level of telepathy. Maybe some exercises in both the Hidden Hand and the Silent Voices, but this hunt is both Long and Silent. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless I can have Rygaran take my place."

"Ask if that can be done. If not, I will get some more exercises for Reepchip." Hworyal spoke to an aide, then turned to Ryramorl. "Oh, about that idiot who beamed me aboard your ship…"

"Good wrestler, but needs practice."

"Thank you."

Before long, the aide was back with a printed set of exercises Reepchip could go through to strengthen himself.

Hworyal was not the only superior Ryramorl needed to make a report to---he also had the OverKing and his own Chieftain to talk to still. Since he was already in Capital City, OverKing Shor-Ghan was next on the agenda, and Ryramorl took the opportunity to have a meal at a restaurant with his old friend---something he hadn't been able to do in a long time. The two talked about how things were going in the Pentarchy, and Shor-Ghan talked about the explosion in Bone Soup Tribes---motley collections of other tribes with too few members to keep going, and so all gathered together to form a new tribe.
"Not surprised, after what we all went through," said Ryramorl.

"Myaral has started teaching a course in Olavarn City about the art and responsibilities of Chieftainship, including the Ancient Code, to all these new Chieftains." Shor-Ghan drank some water. "It gets better: He was asked to do this by the Emperor himself."

Ryramorl nodded. "Hopefully they will understand that the Ancient Code was meant to make things run more smoothly between the tribes."
"So what's up in the Federation?"

"President Vorok is getting ready to stand for re-election, I think," said Ryramorl. "He's a Tellarite, so he's looking forward to the debates."

Shor-Ghan growled. "Election. In our day, we bloody well FOUGHT for our positions," he said, only half-joking. Shor-Ghan had come to power on a virtual cult of personality, and had retained that power through an act of humility that had been aimed more at keeping his head on his shoulders, but ended up with him back in a throne.

Ryramorl laughed. "That's one way to horrify the UFP. Hold a staged tournament for the new OverKing. Or hold a ‘debate' and have the candidates slug it out. Can't have the Federation think we've gone soft."

"Or the Empire. It's been a while since I've made the Overseer lose his mind."

Talk turned to their families. Shor-Talo had struck up a friendship with the Swamp Yarrowan Queen, Sha-Tam was already angling to gain what power a female could in the highly male-dominated Pentarchy, Ghronarh was advancing well as a Shaman, and Ee'an was taking courses on Earth.

Shor-Ghan smiled quietly. "The Khyrrians allowed me to go to the Palace of the Emperor and visit Sha-Nara," he said. "The Emperor granted all the kin of those who petitioned him for help permission to come and visit them."

"That's wonderful," said Ryramorl. "How is she?"

"She is well. She wept when she saw what was left of Shor-Talo." He sighed. "But it was so good to hold her again."

"Shor-Harlan and Sha-Nara must have been overjoyed to see their daughter once more."

"They were, and they asked permission to stay with her. There's nothing left for them here, and the Emperor granted them permission. Oh. I also met Rand'l'andro over there. He says hello."

"Rand'l'andro? He's still alive?"

"Yes, but whatever genetic experiment the Khyrrians were trying with him has failed utterly, and he needs regular treatments to be able to function. He says he won't live much longer, but he is at peace with that."

The two continued eating. As they left the restaurant, Ryramorl heard a street band sing a song about "Purebred Princes," named "Three Hairs Out Of Place." The song was a trio between a preening, high-bred prince bewailing the fact that a bruise treatment had horribly disfigured him by leaving three hairs of fur out of place, his fashion-fanatic mate who was utterly repulsed and disgusted by such a hideous marring of his coat, and the snivelling healer who was giving a grovelling apology for daring to blemish the prince so. The song was scorchingly sarcastic, and when Ryramorl looked over, he was completely unsurprised to see it was a group of Coastals.

Ryramorl pondered... then grinned.

"What is on your mind?"

"I wonder if they have a recording of that." He approached the street band, who smirked at the well-known purebred. "Have you a recording of that song? There is a healer I wish to hear it."

"We do. Who's the healer?"

Ryramorl wrote down the name. "She is of the Federation. She tried to make my healing painful and disfiguring," he said gesturing to the staples. "She has failed, for I am no preening prince obsessed with three hairs."

The band roared with laughter, and they not only sold Ryramorl a copy of it, they each signed its package with mocking, simpering greetings to the Federation Healer. Ryramorl then went to buy a player for the recording. His little battle of wits with Hannigan wasn't over yet.

There was one last thing to do---visit his tribe. He took a transport to the capital city of Olavaron to visit his brother. Myaral's face had healed into a hideous mess of scars, but Ryramorl was unphased by his brother's eyeless visage. Nearby Myaral stood Ryramorl's son Ghronarh, who was serving as his uncle's eyes. The three embraced and rubbed faces. "How goes it?" he asked.

"I am well," said Myaral. "My son is becoming more prominent in the tribe, and I may find myself stepping back as Chief of the Chieftain's soon. Which is just as well. I have been asked by the Masters to train new Chiefs, who have no lineage and training." He was now leaning on a staff; clearly the attempts to heal his leg had not gone to plan. "So I have to beat ancient wisdom into young and stupid heads," he said with a grin. "And you?"

Ryramorl told him what he'd been through, though he apologized for what he had to leave out.

His two kinsmen understood.

"When you return to the Federation, I want you to take Ghronarh with you. It is not good for a Shaman to be utterly apart from his family, for they lose their connection to this world and worse, their understanding of the needs of us who live in the physical world," Myaral said. Ghronarh perked up.
Ryramorl grinned. "I will. Do you wish to come with me as well?"

"No, no. I have much to do here." His paw brushed over Ryramorl's arm---and paused at the staples. "What is this?"

"I annoyed a Healer. She tried to make my healing painful and disfiguring by closing wounds with a way that would leave larger scars."

Myaral snorted. "You'd better not fear disfigurement," he growled.

"I didn't. That's what annoyed her."

Myaral rumbled with laughter. "I would let you greet my son and wife, but they are out touring amongst the Ancient tribes," he said, becoming somber. "It is a duty I would have done myself if..."

Ryramorl put his handpaw on his blind, lame brother's shoulder. "Myaral, we all know, and we all understand."

The two brothers embraced again, and Ryramorl promised to return soon. He then took Ghronarh under his arm, and led him to the transport. They returned to Capital City, where Ryramorl's runabout was waiting. As Ryramorl prepared to leave, he contacted Captain Lazarus and said he was on his way back, and that all had gone extremely well.

As they headed back, Ryramorl asked Ghronarh about his training.

'Silent Voice is going okay,' said Ghronarh. 'I practice it as much as possible, but I'm a total klutz with the Hidden Hand. Shaman Marwol is saying I'm the worst student he's ever had.'

"You aren't, and he wouldn't be happy if he wasn't losing his mind over his students," said Ryramorl. "It can take a long, LONG time before you master both sides. Marwol's teacher once said Marwol himself took forever, too."

Ghronarh laughed. 'Hard to believe it. Especially when he makes it seem… natural…" He began to wince. "Sorry, father, the Silent Voice is hard to keep up for very long."

Ryramorl grinned. "My friend Reepchip is the same way. He can use the Silent Voice, but he doesn't use it all the time. Also, there are those who are deaf to the Silent Voice, requiring you to speak as all others."

Admiral Kirsten Clancy

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

Admiral Clancy's Office, Starfleet Headquarters, Earth

Stardate 2303.09

Admiral Kirsten Clancy set the PADD down and looked at Carmichael, who stood there, unmoving. "You have GOT to be kidding me."

"Ma'am, I assure you, I am not. From what I can tell, Lieutenant Charatetet has developed a legitimate psychic—or at least an empathic—connection with the coaxial drive. Ma'am, I saw it reach out and meld with the transdimensional device. Charatetet contacted me and said the drive was feeling ‘unwell' when we made a jump in the Mirror Universe that took a second instead of being instantaneous. He heard the drive demand that the transdimensional device be removed. And when we nearly got stuck, Charatetet collapsed. That's not all. ALL the telepaths in Engineering could sense someone was in distress, but nobody knew who. That drive is… almost like a living thing. And Charatetet…" he took a deep breath. "Charatetet has made contact."

She rubbed her temples. "This is an absolute security nightmare. A foreign agent has a psychic connection to a top-secret project. What the hell do we do?"

"I can see three options, ma'am," said Commander Carmichael. "One. We dismiss Charatetet, and he takes off to God knows where and tells God knows what to God knows who. Two. We arrange his death, Commander Ra'yral gets pissed, goes home with a grudge, and we've got another headache in that part of space. Option three: We hold him to his oath of secrecy, let him stay on the ship, and go to sleep at night knowing exactly where he is. Personally, I'd prefer keeping him right where I can see him. And who knows what insight he can give about that system."

"One question. What keeps him from psychically taking over the ship?"

Carmichael thought for a moment. "First, I don't think he can. He senses feelings, gets really brief messages, but that's it. I don't think that he has any real influence over the drive at all. Second, I don't think he dares. He asked for time amongst other Murans after doing this. I got the sense he feared going insane after prolonged contact with such an alien mind, so I granted it."

She sighed and nodded—that made sense. But still… "Why him? Why would it be him who made contact?"

"Honestly, ma'am? I can think of two reasons. First, his mindset. His people are animists, they think every planet, star, ship, tree, station, rock has a spirit of its own. He swears Umbra Prime has a spirit, he just hasn't met it yet. But he'll still say hello to Umbra Prime every time he goes onto the station. It just so happens that when he said ‘hello' to the Resurrection…"

Admiral Clancy nodded with a sigh. "The coaxial drive said hello right back. What's the second reason?"

"For all I know, their own warp drives might be living constructs themselves. I've seen Reepchip's engineering holosims, and I got curious to see how the Carnora warp drives worked with mechanical computers, because I was having a hard time imagining a mechanical computer that could work out such calculations. So I looked into Carnora warp drives. Not even the Carnora have any idea how their warp drives are made or how they work, and the records I could access don't even say who builds them. For all I know, Lieutenant Charatetet might be completely used to talking to his ship and it talking back."

Lt. Tiri Sh'avelith

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.11

Back on the station after visiting Victoria on Earth, Tiri went to her quarters on the station, changed into fatigue casuals and checked all of her personal communications. There were messages from her parents, one from her brother but no one had important news to report.

As someone on Earth once said, no news was good news.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lt. Commander Darva McGuire

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Starfleet Medical, Earth

Stardate 2303.10

Daryl wiped the sweat of his forehead with the small towel. The past 2 hours he had been working out. Now, he felt a whole lot lighter in his head. It would be his escape from reality the coming months. And the least he could do is stay in physical shape. As he walked into his room, McCulloch was already there.

"Good morning my friend." he greeted Daryl

"Good morning" Daryl replied. Then he thought of something.

"I haven't seen Cody yet. I thought he would at least bring me a visit. " Daryl then said.

"Cody was ordered to stay on the ship, as was the rest of the team and crew. But he was with you when you were brought in. Together with Darva he sat at your side. Otherwise he is doing well, as far as you can be after such a cluster of a mission." Will replied.

Daryl nodded. "I see. I will contact him later. See how he is doing. " Daryl felt guilty. He knew the team would be coming for him, but it had cost them. Lots of wounded and casualties. All to save him. He was glad they did, but the thought of all the wounded and casualties hung above him, like a dark cloud.

Will noticed Daryl's pondering. "It wasn't your fault Daryl. We came to save you and it got out of hand. These Terrans are madman "

Daryl scoffed. "Whom are you telling…." he pushed the thoughts from his experiences away. He had things to deal with now and these memories would probably haunt him long enough….especially after this day.

Will quickly picked up on Daryl's reaction to his Terran Empire comment. He had been through this before with Victoria. Years earlier, when first injected with Trill memory analeptics, the nurse struggled terribly as waves of memories of another person overwhelmed her. Now, Daryl was going through the same thing.

"I understand the memories of your mirror counterpart can be erased over time," The Scot asked. "Is that correct?"

Daryl nodded in the affirmative.

"How long will it take?" McCulloch pressed.

"Days, weeks, months, I don't know."

McCulloch's thoughts drifted back to when he was Dr. Smith's prisoner and how determined she was to capture and weaponize his Victoria. The Scot's eyes widened as the obvious appeared before him.

"Daryl," He asked. "Did you ever consider Dr. Smith's alternative motives?"

"What do you mean?"

"She was experimenting with implanting the memories and experiences of others into her patients for military purposes. She did it with you and she hoped to take it to the next level with Victoria."

Daryl's jaw dropped. "Do you think I…."

"Was a possible bridge between Dr. Smith's past and future experiments?" McCulloch answered. "I do. It's too much of a coincidence not to be. You were both part of her bigger picture. I suspect the Trill analeptics implanted in Victoria would have allowed her plans to be fully implemented in the Terran armed forces."

"How so?"

"Dr. Smith disclosed to me that she hoped to implant the memories of warriors and strategic minds into the soldiers of the empire, thereby giving them a distinct advantage over their enemies."

Thompson shuddered slightly. After a moment, he looked at his friend.

"How is Victoria?"

"She's better." Will replied. "It's going to be a long path to full recovery but she's up for it."

"I'm sorry, I haven't visited her. I…can't" Daryl quietly answered

"I completely understand," Will surprisingly assured his friend.

Will hadn't confided in anyone …at least not yet…that he also had some reservations about being alone with Victoria. The Terran version of Victoria had drugged, tortured, seduced, and mutilated him during her interrogation sessions. She even went as far as to carve her initials into his torso before promising to bring the weight of the empire down on him. He felt humiliated, hopeless and weak as a result of the encounter.

To date, no one had asked him how he was doing or whether he needed support to recover from his own experiences. The previous evening was his first full night of sleep since the completion of the mission but it was filled with nightmares of Dr. Smith. When he woke up soaked in his own sweat and screaming, he wondered if the nightmares of Dr. Smith coupled with Vree's damn vision quest she sent him on would only drive him away from Victoria.

It scared him.

After a moment, Will cleared his throat, pushed his feelings of fear and mistrust aside and returned his attention to Daryl. He was here to support his friend, not garner sympathy for himself. He would deal with his own issues through the bottle or with the help of his counselor Desiree Klomden.

"Daryl, if the memories persist longer than expected, do talk to Victoria or Mayla." Will suddenly announced. "They can help you through this."

Thompson nodded silently in understanding. After a moment he loudly sighed. "I'm taking a quick shower. Darva will be here in about half an hour" Daryl stated..

Will nodded. "Take your time mate."

The door wooshed open and Joanna entered. Will raised his eyebrow. "Go ahead Daryl, I'll be fine."

Daryl smiled as Joanna asked him telepathically who this man was who was trying to undress her with his eyes.

Daryl explained it to her and couldn't help but grin. McCulloch being McCulloch.

Then he turned around to take a shower. He felt how Joanna pulled back from his mind as he started to undress. She was very discrete. Daryl actually started to like her. As a friend. But now, he first had to tell Darva what had transpired in the Mirror Universe. It weighed very heavy on his shoulders.
McCulloch winked at Joanna. The counselor looked nervously about before sensing he was merely toying with her to get a reaction. She scoffed at him as she began to prepare for her session with Daryl and Darva.

"You really don't think you're going to stay here while I meet with the two of them?" She demanded as she eyed the Scot suspiciously.

"I don't know. Let's find out," Will answered as he looked over his shoulder towards Daryl's shower area. "Thompson! Do you want me here when Darva arrives?"

"Yes, I that's why you came over, isn't it? "

Thompson stated. McCulloch smiled at Joanna, who just shook her head.

Daryl walked out of the shower, and Joanna looked at him intensely. McCulloch guessed they where having a telepathic chat about him.

Then the door chimed. Daryl visibly froze. Then, after a moment, he walked towards the door. It opened,. And Darva stood there in casual clothing, blue jeans and a white tunic on top of it. She looked wonderful. She stepped inside and hugged Daryl. Then she noticed McCulloch and Joanna.

"Will," Darva announced as she crossed the room and hugged him. She held onto him for several seconds. "I'm going to see Victoria this afternoon."

"I'm know she would love to see you." He answered as Darva pulled away. She looked about the room in slight confusion. "Why are the two of you here."

"We'll get to that in a moment." Will replied as he looped his arm through Darva's and started to walk her further into the room. "But first, I want to hear how this beautiful rose of Scotland is feeling while recovering from her injury."

"Are ye flirting with me William McCulloch?" McGuire mockingly demanded as she followed him towards the waiting area of the recovery room.

"Aye I am lass." He replied as Darva snickered, looked over her shoulder and flashed a smile towards Daryl.

"Is he really hitting on your girlfriend?" Joanna mentally asked Daryl.

Thompson simply shrugged his shoulders before answering "He is, but I suspect he's buying me time."

"You seem to trust him. With your life. Even your partner. " Joanna said.

"I do. Even though Will has quite some history, I do trust him. With my life. And my partner. " Daryl smiled. He looked at Will and Darva as they entered the room again and he felt a knot in his stomach.

Darva walked straight to Daryl and hugged him again.

"You feel tense… is something wrong? " She asked, a worried tone in her voice.

Daryl looked down, trying not to sob. Then he looked into Darva's eyes. A silence fell. After some moments, Daryl spoke, while took Darva's hands in his.

"I…I've done a lot of terrible things while I was in the Mirror Universe. I had to … " Darva laid her hand softly on his lips.

"I know, my love. You don't have to tell me. "

Daryl shook his head, trying not to start crying.

"No, you must know what I did. It's not fair to you if I wouldn't tell you. "

Darva shook her head. "I don't understand Daryl… "

Daryl looked away from her. He was nervous. Afraid even. His heart pounded in his chest. And, there was the nausea too.

He took a deep breath, exhaled and looked again at Darva.

"I had to sleep with other women to not blow my cover. They kidnapped me because their own Thompson was killed so I had to play him, become him, being the playboy he was. If I hadn't done it, I would've surely been killed too. " Daryl blurted out, then he broke again into tears.

Darva fluttered with her eyes, coping with this new information. It hit her like ten ton hammer at first. She looked at Daryl, the man she loved. He was shaking all over his body and crying, and fell to his knees. Darva was not sure what she felt, but she saw the hurt in his eyes, and sat on her knees too, carefully hugging him, pulling him against her.

Daryl sobbed uncontrollably. Telling her the truth had lifted the burden a bit. Yet he was afraid to loose her after his confession.

"Come on buddy" Will said, as he pulled Daryl to his feet again. Daryl felt weak. Darva and Will guided him to a chair. Joanna poured in a glass of water. Daryl took a few sips and came a bit to himself.

McCulloch clapped his hand on the back of Thompson's neck and squeezed a couple of times. As he did, he watched McGuire carefully. Admittedly, the security officer was taking this far better than he expected.

"Darva," He quietly stated. "As Daryl's friend, I want to thank you for showing compassion. I want to add some contex to this so you can see the…bigger picture."

McGuire simply stared at Will as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

"We…" Will started but corrected himself. This meeting was not about him, it was about his friend. "Daryl found himself at the mercy of a Dr. Victoria Smith. The mirror counterpart of my Victoria. She was a vile, evil person who committed unspeakable acts against so many people."

"Including Daryl?" Darva nervously asked.

"Including Daryl." McCulloch answered sadly as he thought of his own treatment at the hands of Dr. Smith. After a moment, he loudly exhaled and continued. "She manipulated, tortured and experimented on him. She was ruthless and spared no expense to ensure Daryl suffered under her watch."

McGuire looked over at Thompson sympathetically before nodding for Will to continue.

"Darva, Daryl is not giving you the full picture. There is one part he left out."

"What?"

The Scot looked McGuire directly in the eyes. "When he was sleeping with these other women in the Mirror Universe and committing unspeakable acts, he was under extreme duress… but there is more. He wasn't himself."

"I'm not sure I follow." McGuire stated.

"Dr. Smith injected him with some form of memory analeptics." Will quickly announced. "It wasn't on the same level of Victoria, but it was a close second. Daryl was overwhelmed by the memories of his Mirror Universe counterpart and was forced to navigate between his own thoughts and beliefs and those of the Hand."

Darva started to respond but McCulloch held his hand up as a signal to allow him to continue. She quietly nodded in the affirmative.

"I only saw a small part of what Victoria went through due to my imprisonment … but what I did see?" He asked. "Was pure hell for her. I suspect Daryl went through the same thing. He was forced to do things to survive and at the same time, was influenced by the memories of another person."

Will let go of the back of Daryl's neck and waited for Darva's response.

Daryl just sat there and listened to Will's explanation to Darva about Daryl's experiences. It was all true, but it only scratched the surface. He looked up, straight into the eyes of Darva. He swallowed visibly.

"Poor thing" She said to Daryl.

"Why did they do this to you?"

"To be able to roll out their plans.

They used me, forced me to be someone I wasn't, forced me to do the things I did. Including sharing the bed with these women. I betrayed you. More than one time. More than a dozen time. I feel awful for that. And I fully understand if you would want to break up. " More tears rolled down. His eyes were burning of all the crying.

Darva took both of his hands firmly and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Daryl Thompson, I may find the idea you slept with other woman disgusting. And one part of me thinks I should kick you out of my life. " She said, in a Scottish brogue

"But the other part, a much bigger part, tells me you are still worth fighting for. And that's what I tend to do. I need you in my life, Daryl Thompson, and don't even dare to think I might toss you aside because of what you did. You did what you did to stay alive. And you succeeded. I'm not proud of what you did. But it is how it is. I lost you once. And I thought I'd lost you a second time, when you disappeared. So don't you even consider thinking I might let you go, Daryl Thompson, because I won't! I still love you! "

And with that said, she hugged him tightly and kissed him. Daryl was stunned about what she said and could only hold her. He felt a wave of relief. Yet he knew this wouldn't be the last thing to say about this matter.

Will nodded in approval as he watched the pair. As he started to offer words of encouragement, his commbadge chirped, alerting him of an incoming message.

McCulloch was occupied in a call. Daryl only felt relief. He was really surprised Darva took it that well. Actually, he had a hard time believing it. But for now, he didn't want to get into the matter any deeper. But it was far from over. He sighed deep and wished this all would be over. He felt tired, and as if she had waited for Daryl to notice, she stepped forward.

"I am sorry to interrupt. But it was an intensive day for all of you. Daryl should now rest. "

Darva nodded, understanding. Then McCulloch stood up. "Darva, we are requested to join the debriefing meeting. We need to rezz in in the meeting.

Darva hugged Daryl and pulled him tight against her.

"We'll get through this. Together. I love you. " She kissed him on the cheek as she pulled back.

"Love you too" Daryl whispered.

Darva smiled at him, then she turned around and followed McCulloch in his wake. He looked at Daryl.

"Take care Daryl. See you in a bit".

The door closed, and it became silent in the room.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.11

MacLeod gave Lazarus a harsh glare across the desktop as he finished listening to the captain explain his actions at the Federation Penal Colony in New Zealand. When Quentin finished talking, MacLeod slowly shook his head and sighed.

"Well, you're banned from going back there," MacLeod said. "Hopefully I will be able to continue my visits to Jaegar after your little hissy fit."

Lazarus frowned, "Why do you visit that horse's ass? He is cruel and prone to inciting conflict."

"You let him play you, Quentin," MacLeod laughed, the disappointment clear in his voice. "He pushed your buttons, and you walked right into it."

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" Lazarus asked.

"Yes," MacLeod stated with confidence. "The whole reason I go visit him from time to time is to try and get him to talk. He loves to talk. Half the Section 31 holdouts Sorvek and I hunted down we found because of my visits with Jaegar. Because as much as he likes to yank your chain, if you can get him talking about something he has knowledge of, he'll eventually take the bait and squawk."

Lazarus lowered his head, "I'm sorry, Ian. I messed up. I just wanted to squeeze the life out of him."

"I know the feeling all too well," MacLeod said. "I shouldn't have let you go alone. I could tell you were worked up about something. I should have been there."

Lazarus exhaled sharply and closed his eyes a moment as he leaned back in his chair, "Ian, what do I do now? Should I go find Carolyn…T'Via… and tell her who I am? Or should I just let her go on believing I'm dead, along with the rest of her family?"

MacLeod remembered learning he had a daughter he never knew he had when he discovered Chas'naH was his offspring. While the circumstances were entirely different, he knew immediately he wanted to be a part of her life. Of course, she felt the same.

He could not say how T'Via would respond to Quentin just suddenly showing up, back from the dead.

"I don't know, Quentin," MacLeod admitted. "It will be difficult for both of you. I can't make this decision for you. You have to do what you think is right."

Lazarus did not respond, other than a curt nod. The admiral took in a deep breath, then added, "The next time I put in a word for you with someone, don't go off half cocked like that again."

"Understood," Lazarus responded.

MacLeod shifted gears, moving on to other business at hand. "I want the team and Resurrection crew assembled in Cargo Bay 3 at 1300 hours. Carmichael tells me the coaxial drive cannot be separated from the transdimensional device and it is causing unusual energy surges and other disruptions in the ship."

Lazarus sat forward, a concerned look on his face. "What does that mean?"

"It means you and Phoenix are semi-grounded," MacLeod told him. "If a mission comes up that doesn't require an immediate response, Phoenix can be deployed on the Fearless or another capable vessel. But until a mission comes up, the team and crew are going to have some downtime."

Quentin nodded, "I have some concerns after the last mission. One, security aboard the ship needs to be improved. The security team suffered casualties in the fight against the boarding party and we lost members of the bridge crew unnecessarily.

"I want security to receive better combat training and the entire crew is to undergo some form of additional tactical training," Lazarus said. "There are also some issues with Union XII. Some members of the medical team have been unnecessarily pushy with members of the crew…raised voices, disrespectful tones."

MacLeod smirked, "Things get tense in combat."

"Understood, but this is a special ops ship, closed quarters, having an attitude with my crew for no reason is unacceptable," the captain explained. "The Union XII team can do its job without being rude and disrespectful to the crew. If the crew is rude or resistant to medical treatment, then by all means they can flex their muscles a bit."

MacLeod appeared amused, "You can plead your case. I have a feeling the combat medics are going to say Starfleet needs to grow a pair, but I understand your concerns."

"Speaking of Union XII, with McCulloch on Earth with Smith, do you want me to have someone fill them in later?" Lazarus asked. "There's also the issue of Thompson and McGuire who are both also there."

"See if McCulloch and McGuire can take a few minutes and rezz in via holographic comms," said MacLeod. "If not, they can both be brought up to speed at another time. Leave Smith and Thompson to rest for now. They can be brought up to speed later."

Lazarus stood up, "Again, Ian, I apologize about today."

"Accepted," MacLeod said, then adding with a slight grin, "I'd have loved to watch you choke that prick out, in all honesty."

"It did feel good," Lazarus added.

He started toward the door, when MacLeod called after him, "Laz, if you need to talk about T'via, let me know. No more holding things back and going off the reservation. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," Lazarus responded, glancing back over his shoulder. He then turned around and headed out the door to summon the entire crew.

A few minutes later, word went out to Phoenix and the Resurrection crew – meeting in Cargo Bay 3 at 1300 hours. A message was also sent to McCulloch and McGuire on Earth asking them if they could attend or use a secure holo-communicator at Starfleet Medical to rezz in…

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Starfleet Medical, Earth

Stardate 2303.11

McCulloch received the second order from Captain Lazarus for Darva and him to rezz in via the holographic comm. He quickly looked over at Thompson with a concerned look on his face. In response, Daryl merely shrugged his shoulder.

"Excuse us," Will announced as he stood and left Thompson's recovery room with Lt. Commander McGuire in tow. Once outside, the pair approached a nearby nurse's station and asked if there was a secure conference room available for them to utilize. The managing nurse quickly directed him to a nearby room and left him alone.

What the hell did Lazarus want? Will asked himself.

After a moment of deliberations, the Scot convinced himself that it almost certainly had to do with the debacles of the last mission. Naturally, he assumed McGuire was to be a witness to the coming dress down.

"Well, it was a good run while it lasted," McCulloch griped as he opened a channel to Lazarus and waited for the captain to appear via a holographic communication. When he did, Wil and Darva snapped to attention.

"Sir, reporting as requested." He stammered slightly as he waited to be reprimanded.

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Runabout Orion's Belt

Stardate 2303.14

Ryramorl saw that he was being hailed, and he turned on the viewscreen. "Captain Lazarus. Greeting, sir." He immediately stood at attention
"Greetings, Commander," he said. "... who is that with you?"

"Ghronarh, my son, sir," Ryramorl gestured to him, and Ghronarh assumed a stance that looked quite formal.

"I need to talk to you, Commander."

Ryramorl nodded and turned to Ghronarh. "I must speak with one of the elders of the Long Hunt, son."

Ghronarh nodded and left the bridge.

"How did it go on Carnor?" asked Lazarus.

"All went well, sir," said Ryramorl.

"I got a report of a strange energy signal in the Antevas System."

"Yes, sir. As I said, using a gate is not something that can be kept secret. Some Carnora activated it to travel between our universe and the Khyrrian's native Realm."

"There's going to be a meeting at 1300 hours Earth Time. I want you to attend."

"Very well, sir. I will gladly do so."

Colonel Jahkar

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.14

Jahkar had moved the belongings he wanted on the station with him from Resurrection to Umbra Prime. Once that was done, he switched into Marine fatigues and grabbed something to eat. He received the message from the captain about the meeting and when the time came he went to the cargo bay, presumably because it was the only large open space for a crew meeting, and joined the others assembled there.

Lt. Cody Beckett

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.14

After all the commotion of the mission, Cody had returned his gear to the Resurrection's armory and then finished his mission report. Once back in his quarters on Umbra Prime he sat down on the couch, checking some messages and fell asleep. As he woke up again, it was already the next morning. The computer informed him the de-briefing in the cargo bay would be at 1300 hours. That was in one hour he noted.
After a shower and a bite of food, Cody made his way to the cargo bay

Lieutenant Junior Grade Reepchip Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.14

Reepchip beamed aboard Umbra Prime, and mentally greeted it, but the station still refused to acknowledge his greeting. He sighed, hoping that one day it would. It felt strange being on Umbra Prime without Ryramorl—or without any other Carnora, for that matter. He went to his quarters and tried to sleep. Sleeping alone in the room was the most unnatural thing ever, who designed these quarters anyways? A dozen Murans could fit in here quite happily. He finally fell into a troubled sleep.

Reepchip walked along the corridors, and he could only hear the quiet creaking of the station. No longer was the station simply ignoring him, it was long dead. Doors stood open, revealing rooms with the standard sleeping arrangements, but nobody would ever visit them again, nor was there any sign anyone had been there in the first place. Here and there were work stations waiting for crew that would never come—and maybe had never come at all. He could only see a few feet ahead of him, but beyond that was pitch blackness, and absolute, utter emptiness.

He was woken from his dream by the alert of an upcoming meeting. Reepchip hurriedly got ready and scampered off to the cargo bay, making it with only minutes to spare.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.14

MacLeod and Lazarus were the last to arrive for the briefing. The crew, along with the Shadow Ops team and Union XII were gathered in a circle around the spacious outpost cargo bay, allowing the two commanding officers to move to the center position.

Rezzed in nearby were McCulloch, Ryramorl and Darva McGuire, holographic avatars of all three officers standing at attention on a portable holo-communicator pad. Absent were Thompson and Smith.

On the far side of the bay, lined up along the bulkhead, were four photon torpedo pods covered with blue and white Federation flags…an ominous reminder of what they had all gone through in the depths of Rogaran.

When everyone had quieted down, MacLeod looked around with a serious stare, jaw set hard immediately betraying the sense the admiral was not in a good mood.

"Before we begin, let's have a moment of silence for Kolar, Lakim, Kapello and Union XII's Lieutenant Riisos," said the admiral. "Unlike the rest of you, they will not be able to go home."

Dead silence followed for several seconds, before the aging admiral cleared his throat and resumed. "You'll all have to excuse most of the security staff and the other members of Union XII injured in the battle…not to mention Commander Smith, who barely survived.

"You completed your mission. For that, you are to all be commended," MacLeod said. "But the loss of life and the number of casualties sustained has given me reason for concern. We brought Lt. Commander Thompson home, but at what cost? This cannot happen again."

MacLeod looked around at the faces of the crew and Shadow operators. Everyone understood this was not a day to celebrate. The admiral was right, the mission had been costly in terms of lives and serious injuries.

"Let me give you all the sit-rep. Resurrection is grounded until further notice. There are serious issues with the vessel's coaxial drive and she'll be drydocked until further notice," he said. "That means downtime for all of you…in the sense that there won't be any immediate missions at hand.

"That means there will be time for training. Lots and lots of training," MacLeod said sternly. "Colonel Jahkar and Commander McCulloch, I want you both to begin work on a combat training program for the entire crew of the Resurrection.

"For the security team, once all of its members are back on duty, I want advance tactical training for all of them," he said. "I do not want a repeat of what happened on Rogaran. The Terrans nearly mopped the deck with all of you.

"From now forward, the crew is to be armed with sidearms when Resurrection leaves on any mission," MacLeod continued. "Security will be armed at all times and will suit up with body armor and rifles when the Shadow Ops team is deployed – whether they are leaving the ship with the squad or not."

MacLeod looked across the faces of the crew as he continued, his gaze settling on Tiri. "Lt. Sh'avelith will spend time training with Union XII during this downtime. I want your time spent 50/50 between Union XII training and training with Phoenix. You performed your duties well in saving Commander Smith, but you need more training as a combat medic.

"While we're speaking of Union XII, this current configuration of having the entire unit aboard Resurrection is not sustainable," MacLeod said. "Union XII should base here on the station and deploy members of the unit as needed. Resurrection should only need 2-3 nurses and the Gentle Annie is going to have to deploy aboard a larger ship. I want Resurrection's shuttle back in the hangar bay.

"Besides Resurrection, we expect to have another fully operational Shadow Ops team operational within the next six months, so we'll need to divide Union XII assets between more than one ship soon.

"Following this meeting, I'd like Union XII personnel to hang back," MacLeod said. "Captain Lazarus would like a word."

Lazarus was surprised. MacLeod was going to make him address the inappropriate behavior matter, mainly because it had been Lazarus' complaint.

"Commander Carmichael, his engineering team, the Mad Caps and Lt. Charatetet will take Resurrection to an orbital drydock station being readied in Earth orbit," said MacLeod. "From there they will work on the ship to fix the drive. Charatetet, you'll be commuting daily. I want you here part of the time training with the squad, so your duties will be divided."

The admiral then opened the floor to questions…

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Runabout Orion's Belt

Stardate 2303.17

Ryramorl looked like he had a question, looking at Admiral MacLeod and Captain Lazarus, but decided it was best to ask them in private. Reepchip's abilities didn't need to be broadcasted to one and all. He simply said, "I do have a question, Admiral, Captain, but it is best if I ask you two alone."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.17

The captain returned to addressing the crew, "Any further questions?"

Reepchip looked almost relieved, Ryramorl simply accepted it impassively.

When there were no further questions, MacLeod dismissed the crew and the Shadow operators. That left the Union XII marines, so MacLeod stepped back, allowing Lazarus to conduct the meeting with Union XII.

The captain stepped up and surveyed Union XII, "First, let me say Union XII performed its duties admirably on this last mission. Your dedication and medicinal abilities are second to none and we appreciate you, but in the heat of battle it has been brought to my attention tempers sometimes flare, words are sometimes exchanged, and comments are made…loudly enough that they are often unintentionally heard by others."

The captain made sure to look directly at Hannigan and Gace as his eyes roamed the group. He had heard from some of the crew they were both often rude, abrasive, and prone to making derogatory comments about individuals in the team and the crew.

"We all need to get along," Lazarus stated. "You're a tight unit, you all work closely together and you are used to battlefield operations. The Shadow Ops team can deal with any sort of abrasiveness that happens in the heat of battle. Friendly fire, you may want to call it. But the Starfleet regulars…they are not used to that.

"We are all professionals here and we are on the same side," he continued. "If any of my crew gives you static when you're performing your duties, refuses treatment or in general acts like a horse's ass, you have my permission to set them straight. I think that's all they ask of you."

He then looked the group over, "Thank you for keeping my crew alive out there. Despite how I may sound, I appreciate all of you."

"Thank you, sir." Marine Captain Archer Morgan answered. "This will not be an issue again. You have my assurances."

Lazarus nodded, spun on his heels and left Union XII alone, joining MacLeod as the two departed the hold. While there was some muttering and exchange of glances, the team remained mostly silent. Seconds later, the team started to break formation and leave the area.

"I didn't dismiss you!" Morgan barked.

The marine physician's assistant had only arrived at Umbra Prime twenty-four hours earlier as Lieutenant Gysyd Riisos' replacement. Similar to the deceased Orion nurse, Morgan was no nonsense. Unlike Riisos, he didn't sugar coat his displeasure of anything that made Union XII or Commander Victoria Smith look bad.

He eyed his team for a few moments before speaking again. "Until Commander Smith returns, you answer to me. And while you performed quite admirably during the last two missions, it's clear we need a professional development course on rank and military courtesies. So, I expect everyone suited up in full armor, medical packs and combat equipment in twenty minutes. We're going to the Rocky Mountains for an extended hike."

The marine captain studied each team member until his eyes rested on Ensign Gace and Warrant Officer Hannigan. Hixwir avoided eye contact while Hannigan scowled at Morgan.

Archer quickly walked over and began to speak in a low, hushed whisper that was only audible to the pair. As he concluded his ‘discussion', he raised his voice slightly so the rest of the team could hear him.

" … and you will both keep your damn mouths SHUT unless I give you permission to speak, am I clear?"

Both of the nurses were visibly rattled by whatever Morgan had said to them. They had snapped to attention and were now looking straight ahead.

"Sir, perfectly clear, sir." Hannigan stammered. "I apologize and it won't happen again."

Hixwir nervously nodded in agreement.

"Move!" The marine barked. "You have twenty minutes to report to me. And bring the two hundred pound drag sleds, we're pulling them as we hike up hill."

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Runabout Orion's Belt

Stardate 2303.17

Once Lazarus and MacLeod were done addressing the others, Ryramorl was given the opportunity to talk with them. "Captain, Admiral, sirs" he said, standing at attention. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Charatetet's telepathy has taken a turn we did not anticipate on a Federation Ship; your ships are usually silent, but the Resurrection apparently has a voice. Furthermore, better training in his telekinesis is needed. I cannot train him in these things, I am not a Shaman—that is, a telepath. However, there is an experienced Shaman that once served with Shadow Operations in the old days, and he would be willing to serve and train, and Hworyal would be willing to let him serve."

"Are you talking about Rygaran D'Hronarin in the Danro Mountains?" asked Admiral MacLeod.

"Even he, sir. While he is not a full Master of the Hidden Hand nor the Silent Voice, he is good enough to give Reepchip extra training."

"And why would I want Reepchip to get this extra training?" asked Captain Lazarus.

"Simple, sir. For espionage, the better Reepchip can hear thoughts, the better information he can pass on. For infiltration, one test of the Hidden Hand given to Murans is the ability to levitate. A strong telekinetic can lift up to 50 lbs. Reepchip weighs less than 20."

MacLeod cleared his throat, stepping into the conversation, "Starfleet Intelligence has a division for telepaths. They have specific uses and specific circumstances for the use of such abilities. Shadow Operations is not the place for telepaths or telekinetics. The only telekinetic who ever served here betrayed the organization and the Federation itself."

The admiral spoke of Jack Dark, who could use his TK abilities to control nanites inside his body…the man who had faked his death, pretended to be the president of the Federation and nearly destroyed the entire quadrant. Ryramorl could see the concern in MacLeod's eyes.

"I am not comfortable with Reepchip expanding or using his abilities here," MacLeod said. "I would be in favor of someone teaching him some control, however. I cannot allow him to hurt anyone else by accident. Lt. Sh'avelith was fortunate…the next person may not be.

"Send for Rygaran D'Hronarin," the admiral continued. "He will be granted visitor status and can work with Reepchip in the weeks ahead. I want him to learn control, commander, not an expansion of his abilities. He can save that for a return to Carnora or he can ask for reassignment to Starfleet Intelligence's telepathic division."

"I will," said Ryramorl, looking down to tap in a message to send to Hworyal Andruvar. "Currently, what Reepchip fears most is the loss of his mind, so control will be best."

Commander Mayla Vree

Starbase Umbra Prime, Sol System

Stardate 2303.17

"Commander Vree, report to Admiral MacLeod's office." The order came over her comm badge.

Mayla had just returned to her quarters when the call came in. Instead of sitting down to work on more reports, she got back up and walked out. Once she reached Deck 4 where the flag officers had their offices, she quickly and quietly passed through security and walked into MacLeod's office. Lazarus was there and both looked at her as she walked in. The Admiral picked up a small padd on his desk and handed it to Mayla.

"I received temporary transfer orders from Commodore Oh for you to be on loan to her with Admiral Clancy's authorization."

Mayla plastered a look of understanding on her face as it explained why she wasn't included in any of the plans for the team's training while the Resurrection was being repaired. She accepted the padd that at first glance, had her immediate orders to report to Admiral Oh. She then looked at Lazarus, trying to read his eyes and face as she worried about not being here with the Captain during his time of need. She knew there was much more data her father's team had compiled about Carolyn/T'via's life since her rescue, but all of that was for Lazarus' eyes alone. Ever since the revelation in the holodeck, she wondered what was going through the gruff man's mind. He'd lived so long adapting to the loss of his family. The sudden shock to discover one of his children survived the attack on his home colony must be addressed at some point if he was to make peace with it.

"Is this for a temporary assignment? For how long?"

"From what I've been told, until it's done. Whatever and whenever that may be." There was a slight undertone of sarcasm there as he felt violated by an officer who outranked him, who was taking one of his people seemingly indefinitely. Even though the Shadow Operations organization had grown since its reinstatement, taking one of his top operatives away left him feeling hamstrung.

"Aye," Mayla said. Now she thumbed the padd and scrolled through the short orders. "It says here for me to bring all of my combat gear."

"That feels like a damn covert mission to me, Admiral," Lazarus nearly growled.

"Be that as it may, she has her orders." The admiral said. "I received those orders before you even came back from this last mission. Reading between the lines, and some digging through a few of my contacts at Starfleet Intelligence, they say it has something to do with an assault on Echo Base where your old unit was stationed at. All of the personnel were brutally massacred while Echo Team was on an away mission. With the absence of any attacks on other covert operations cells stationed throughout the Federation, it seems your old unit was specifically targeted. Starfleet Intelligence is pulling you back in to find out who, and to eliminate the threat."

"Did your contacts give you any other information?" She hesitantly asked.

"How did you know?" MacLeod said. "Other than the bodies, only this was left behind. A moniker of some sort." He activated his console on the wall and brought up an image of something drawn on a corridor wall she recognized on Echo Base. It was a crudely painted black outline of a wolf in the act of pouncing on its prey with red blood dripping from its mouth and fangs. The blood was not paint.

Fear began to creep into Mayla's chest. She hadn't felt like this in a very long time. Lazarus noticed the immediate change in her eyes and face, and even her body seemed to shrink in on itself just a bit.

"Do you know what this is?"

"I have an idea," Mayla said in a voice as clear and even as she could make it. "I'll go pack my things and head to Earth."

MacLeod looked from her to Lazarus from the curt response, and then gave her a nod. "Alright then. You're both dismissed. Good luck, Commander."

Mayla didn't wait to let Lazarus leave first. Her hand gripped the padd as she walked almost hurriedly out of the Admiral's office and back towards the turbolift. Lazarus had to take quick steps to catch up to her. "What is it?"

She waited until the lift doors closed before speaking. "That drawing is the mark of the Hunter Wolves; one of Nova Wolf Linea's most secretly decorated specialized regiments in their thousand year history. I fear they have fifth generation soldiers with them to finish the job of eliminating all of the first generations."

Lazarus' face turned hard. "That means…you."

"And my sibko. That's why they were looking for Echo Team. All are from my sibko. It's taken 15 years, but they've finally tracked us down somehow." Mayla's mind started working feverishly at the implications. Once she had conclusive proof the Hunter Wolves were operating in the Milky Way, she'll have to inform Kyril that the Linea is in violation of the agreement he brokered with them to prevent the galactic invasion.

Lazarus stayed silent. As much as he didn't want her to go, this was something she had to do. And from the meager knowledge he had on the Linea, and mostly from what Bravo Squad had told and showed him, he was now very much worried for her.

"If I don't make it back, make sure my grandmother is taken care of with assisted homecare. Explain to Victoria why I had to go, she will remember and hopefully, understand. You have access to my legacy directives." Then she suddenly remembered something else. "And if I'm not back in six months, tell McCulloch I release him from my duties as Victoria's liyea'tai."

"You'll be back. Your father will move planets to bring you back alive."

Mayla tried to give him a positive smile, but it came out as a frown of worry. "If I do make it back, I'll bring us some KK doughnuts or Bing Bong candied cakes. And we will celebrate."

"Doughnuts." He said as the lift came to a stop, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Good luck to you, Mayla. See you when you get back." His sincere tone was filled with all the hope and faith he could muster in his weakened emotional state. If she was not successful with her mission, she would never be coming back.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Special Agent Rygaran D'Hronarin in the Danro Mountains

Lieutenant JG Reepchip Charatetet

Outpost Umbra Prime, Sol System

Stardate 2303.18

Reepchip Charatetet, Thomas Carmichael, Admiral Ian MacLeod and Quentin Lazarus were gathered in Quentin's ready room as the holographic images of Ryramorl Ra'yral and Rygaran D'Hronarin, hovered over the table.

Admiral MacLeod explained the situation. "Between your training with Phoenix Squad and your work in Engineering, I've asked former agent Rygaran D'Hronarin to teach you better control over your abilities."

"Why better control?" asked Reepchip.

Ryramorl explained. "Admiral MacLeod remembers a powerful and either evil or deluded Shaman, whom Jahkar and I slew together."

Admiral MacLeod nodded. "Simply put, I am not at all comfortable with you using those abilities at all while a part of Shadow Operations Thus my request to Rygaran."

Reepchip took a deep breath, feeling his heart sink.

Rygaran frowned a bit, coming to a similar conclusion. "Admiral MacLeod, what level of ‘control' are we talking about? Making his telepathy more focused? Making him more attuned? Or teaching him to suppress his abilities altogether?" he thought to himself, though he didn't say it.

Lieutenant Commander Carmichael spoke up. "With all respect sir, I need him to be a better telepath. He's the only one who can really communicate with the ship, and right now that is critical."

MacLeod's mood grew darker and he turned slowly toward Carmichael, his face almost a sneer as he glared at the engineer, "Before this you and Clancy didn't want him near your precious drive. All we heard were complaints and threats about locking him up, shutting him out of engineering or sending him packing back to where he comes from. Now that he has some useful, but untamed ability that benefits you and your agenda, well now you want him to take his place at your side."

The admiral's mood deteriorated into anger as he kept focused on Carmichael, "You stick a bloody piece of alien technology into this ship, you don't know how to completely control it or repair it, but you send my people out on missions in the thing and now you want a member of this team to be your translator to figure out what's wrong with the blasted thing."

"Captain," Carmichael said nervously, looking at Rygaran and Ryramorl. "I must remind you the drive is classified and Special Agent D'Hronarin isn't cleared for this information…nor is Ryramorl…"

"Oh, I think we're way beyond classified information here, commander," MacLeod seethed. "The more Reepchip learns about the drive with his undisciplined abilities and then he interacts with Carnora shamans, the more information he'll inadvertently pass on to them. Here's a bloody question for you…what if he connects with that thing and it takes him over?"

"The drive has never shown that kind of…." Carmichael began, before MacLeod slammed a fist down on the table.

"Never shown that kind of ability? We didn't know it had thoughts until a few weeks ago!" MacLeod roared. "You've tinkered with something you really know nothing about commander, and now you don't know how to fix it and suddenly having Reepchip around suits you just fine."

"Gentlemen," Lazarus finally said, stepping in, though he tended to agree with Ian. "We need to figure out what to do with Lt. Charatetet and his abilities."

MacLeod growled low in his throat and then gave a deep sigh, "To answer your question Rygaran, no, I don't want to suppress his abilities. But I think he needs to be able to learn control before he expands his mind. He blasted one of our operatives with some telepathically enhanced shout. I can't have him in the field potentially harming the team with abilities he can't control. And I don't want him probing too deep into that drive with his mind until he can control it better. Does any of this make sense to any of you?"

"... Your ship's spirit speaks?" said Rygaran,and took a deep breath. "I'd say that's VERY unusual for a Federation Ship, but you mentioned alien technology. Now I wish my ship had faster warp. You, Shaman-Engineer Charatetet, will get the training you need. You, Ryramorl, I look forward to seeing again. Captain Lazarus, Commander Carmichael, I'll even let your people scan the warp drive on my ship to see if the two drives are anything alike. Admiral MacLeod, it's good to be back under your command."

MacLeod grunted, already uneasy with this arrangement after Rygaran's comments. He looked to Carmichael; disappointment evident in his gaze. "See whether the drives are similar. I expect a report once you have something. Afterwards, Commander Sornax will take the Resurrection and your team to orbital drydock Alpha-63 above Earth and you can begin working on the drive."

He then stood and left the ready room. Lazarus dismissed everyone and the meeting was concluded. A short time later, Carmichael's scan found some similarities in the bio-organic construction of the two drive systems…but otherwise they did not have the same capabilities. The Carnora drive was just a step below a Federation slipstream drive; fast but nowhere near capable of an instantaneous jump from one point to another in the galaxy.

MacLeod returned to Earth to report to Admiral Clancy and Commodore Oh, while Lazarus began to pour over the details of his daughter's life these past years. Neither of them knew how long it would take to repair the USS Resurrection, or if the ship would ever be space worthy again. Only time would tell.

## S5, E2, Act 4: Grounded

SIX MONTHS LATER…

Lieutenant Junior Grade Reepchip Charatetet
USS Resurrection / Earth / Everywhere in between
Stardate 2303.18

It was a sign of just how hard Reepchip was being driven that he didn't so much as notice Ensign Tegri Lokarchin, no matter how many snide remarks the Zakdorn made in the Muran's direction. Between assisting with repairs to the Resurrection—which weren't going well—training hard with the team to become a more effective scout and Dreaming with Rygaran to get his abilities under better control, the Muran felt like he was being run ragged.

Telepaths who had been asked by MacLeod to report on Reepchip's progress told the Admiral that Reepchip's mind had become "quieter"—even when he was using telekinesis to do stuff like hold wires to the side while working on a panel.

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael
Official Report to Admiral Kirstan Clancy and Admiral Ian Conner MacLeod
Stardate 2303.18

"To Admirals Ian MacLeod and Kirsten Clancy:

"We still do not know exactly what is going on, but the coaxial drive and the transdimensional device are not working together. Unfortunately, the report that the transdimensional drive had been disconnected was quickly proven false.

"We do have a lead, though. Lieutenant J.G. Reepchip Charatetet claims he gets a strong feeling from the drive that something is missing. He does not know what it is, what it looks like, or what it does save that it is somehow connected to the way the coaxial drive integrates with other components of a ship. At least that is what he thinks; he fully admits he could be wrong.

"But if he's right, then the answer to our problems was left in a hangar on Mars. We might have to return there—if we can. I hope it's still there.

"Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael"

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.18

The past six months for William McCulloch had been busy, to say the least. Most of his time was divided between collaborating and executing team drills and combat simulations with Jahkar, reviewing and preparing intelligence reports for Starfleet Intelligence, participating in Vree's Liyea'tai rituals, and visiting Victoria, who was slowly on the road to a full recovery.

Admittedly, the Scot was somewhat surprised that in the days after the Terran mission, Lazarus and Macleod started to give him expanded leadership roles.
At first, he questioned his capabilities and judgment in the new role. Fortunately, as she seemed to always do, Tiri stepped forward to quietly encourage the Scot whenever he faltered or hesitated while in command. Over time, the encouragement worked and McCulloch began to act and behave like a senior officer. MacLeod even noted that it was almost as if the William McCulloch of the USS Renegade had returned.

McCulloch attributed the success to his supporters, especially Sh'avelith. As a result of her encouragement, Will developed an even greater sense of loyalty towards the Andorian.

Despite his busy schedule, Will continued to participate in Vree's Liyea'tai rituals and activities … most of which were pre-programmed holodeck activities that ranged from physical tasks to psychological trickery to ethical challenges.

One of Mayla's programs went as far as to dump the Scot in an Orion brothel, where he was propositioned six different ways to the wind. Offended, the Scot sent a coded message to Vree's inbox to "sod off", terminated the program and left the holodeck in a huff. An hour later, he received a pre-recorded message from Vree that he had acted appropriately … which made him even angrier.

Then there was the Bolian mud enema Vree programmed. Even months later, Will still hasn't spoken of the experience.

Will wondered if the tasks were Trill rituals or whether Mayla made the entire thing up to keep her thumb on him.

Surprisingly, Victoria was not completely pleased with Vree's actions. Granted, she had once told Mayla that she wanted McCulloch to participate in the Liyea'tai, but she also believed Vree had failed to consider her rekindled human emotions for Will and her desire not to embarrass or humiliate him.
She was also frustrated with Will as she had explicitly told him only to ask Vree for her approval of their courting, nothing more. If the Trill rejected the request, so be it, they would move on. When the Scot told her what had transpired, she was stunned, and angry and intended to confront Mayla. However, Will pleaded with her not to, as it allowed him to build a better relationship with Mayla.

Smith agreed and the tactic worked because it was Mayla Vree, before she left for her mission, that convinced Victoria's parents to give their blessings for Will to court their daughter.

Despite Will's general good fortune, not everything was as it seemed … there were the nightmares. For almost two months after the Terran mission, McCulloch would wake up every night screaming and drenched in sweat as visions of Dr. Victoria Smith returning to torture and mutilate him played in his mind.

His actions of Dr. Smith also had a subtle impact on McCulloch's relationship with Victoria. It wasn't just the dreams …Nurse Smith was the mirror counterpart of the Terran doctor, and he struggled to distinguish between the two. As a result, he occasionally had to step away from Victoria to collect his thoughts and suppress the coming panic attacks. Worse, he sometimes made excuses to separate himself from her when she made romantic overtures.
Ultimately, William McCulloch desperately struggled to prevent his relationship with Victoria Smith from becoming strained.

It terrified him.

Will was tempted to turn to the bottle or sedatives to kill the nightmares and the stress of possibly losing Victoria, but he fought off the urge. Extended sessions with his counselor Desiree Klomden significantly helped,and over time, the nightmares subsided … but did not go away. Klomden pleaded with him to bring Victoria into their counseling sessions, but he refused. Victoria was recovering from her injuries, and the last thing she needed was the additional burden of William McCulloch.

He wondered if his friends suspected anything of his internal struggle … they had to suspect something, right?

It was irrelevant because he wasn't telling them anything, even if they did know. It would only make him look weak as a superior officer.

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

Training had been rough, but Ryramorl knew it was necessary.

He'd also been given extra duties, it seemed, helping train the security forces when he wasn't training with Phoenix Squad. But, having been a high-ranking bodyguard for the Olvern Overking, training others had been one of his tasks back home.

And so it was that he had limited time to be with his family, but what time he could, he took. Ee'an was put into acting classes so that he could work on charisma, while Ghronarh was introduced to some Betazoids so he could learn about other telepaths.

He also got an unexpected letter—Joshagk had only a short Cleansing. With his body repaired, he'd been given to an Ancient tribe of the Usarins, learning how to hunt and trap as they had for millenia. From Joshagk's letter to him, the young Usarin was content with his lot, and had even found a mate. Ryramorl wished him well. As per the youngster's wishes, he passed on Joshagk's greetings to Captain Lazarus and assured the captain that due to the remoteness of Joshagk's location and the primitiveness of the tribe, this was likely to be the last they heard from him.

As for the battleship—that was under repairs at a Carnora facility. There was talk of refitting it with a Arko-built set of warp drives, as some Carnora felt uncomfortable aboard a silent ship.

He also got the staples removed by the medical team. He'd hoped Hannigan would be there so he could pass on the recording, but that would have to wait.

Special Agent Rygaran D'Hronarin in the Danro Mountains

Earth, Sol System

Stardate 2303.20

Rygaran had little to do between his training sessions with Reepchip, so he approached Captain Lazarus and Captain Morgan and asked if he could help in training the others.

Both accepted. When he was training with Umbra XII, he was either a patient needing to be rescued, an attacker the patient needing to be rescued from, and he threw himself into both roles with gusto. When he was the attacker, he made sure to wear special gloves and a mouthguard to make sure his teeth and claws didn't hurt those he was working with..

When he worked with Security, he was either acting as an intruder, helping set up scenarios involving boardings, or simply a sparring partner. He was particularly hard on Ensign Grop, trying to get the Ferengi to act with more courage and trying to give him the tools to back up that courage.
"Reepchip's half your height and he could rip your ears off!" he snarled as he knocked the Ferengi off his feet yet again. His twisted, wrecked face made his snarls even more intimidating.

Ensign Toth—while not a member of Security—had ended up a part of this as well. Seeing Rygaran, he'd muttered "not another one" under his breath, forgetting how sharp Carnora hearing was. Rygaran had hauled HIM into the sparring sessions, and was genuinely impressed by his hand-to-hand skill. He sent a message to Captain Lazarus asking if the transporter crew should also be trained in combat—it was all too possible for something to show up unexpectedly.

Commander Mayla Vree

Holodeck

Umbra Prime, Sol System

Stardate 2303.20 (six months later)

Mayla was twiddling her now grown out hair while sitting at her father's wrap around center console in Bravo Command on Starbase Umbra One. Just for ambience, there were 5 other similar stations surrounding her, but all were darkened. All of the consoles were facing a huge expanse of a wall that was covered with monitors and status indicators from all over the station. Bravo Command was capable of providing secondary support to the station in case Operations was disabled for any reason.

In front of her floating above her console were about a dozen screens, each one with referential data she had been studying ever since her mission for Commodore Oh was accomplished. As soon as she had entered the Commodore's office, she was quickly whisked away on a priority shuttle to Echo Base where she studied in a high resolution recording of what Echo Team had found when they returned from their mission to find everyone at the base had been killed. She and Echo Team had spent over a week in the holodeck, studying every aspect of the attack and concluded that it was indeed a Gen5 coordinated attack. Adding to the evidence was the image of a Linea Typhoon class assault ship suddenly appearing outside the docking bay of the base. Then all video everywhere on the base was disrupted and erased.

Then she received a message from her father in response to her report of the presence of the Linea in the Milky Way galaxy. The hunt began for the Hunter Wolves. It had taken weeks, but the campaign to find them became a game of both hunters becoming the hunted with the universe as the game preserve. In the end, the Hunter Wolves were all killed along with the Gen5 soldiers, down to the last man and woman, with much difficulty and casualties. Mayla had lost several of her sibko brothers and sisters, Admiral Vree's specialized fleet had taken heavy losses, even some of the prototype Starfleet ships that were integrated with Linea technology.

With Mayla's immediate mission accomplished, she returned to the Federation and filed a heavily fabricated report to Commodore Oh as to who was responsible for the assault on Echo Base that killed 62 people. All of the references and evidence was verified authentic and was then filed away. Mayla had been gone for three and a half months, and when she returned to Umbra Prime, she had to catch up on the training status of the Resurrection crew and Phoenix Squad. Jahkar had sent her regular reports on their progress, even though she didn't get to read them until she had returned. Occasionally he would also include a few quick messages from Kedanya, and that the 'security' forces surrounding his home had been dismissed.

The one person she had been concerned about in the three and a half months she was gone was Lazarus. She hadn't received any messages from him at all. She had considered attaching one of Jackson Bryce's watchdog programs on him, but decided against it. If Lazarus wanted to talk, he would come to her. He knew she was always available for her, as she was when she was just a little girl. As soon as she got back into Federation space, she had sent him a message inquiring about him, but he didn't respond. When she finally returned to the station, he had been busy with the Resurrection and they barely had any chance to talk privately. She was sure by now, Kyril may have already informed T'via of his findings.

She looked over to a set of screens on the left side she had organized with the recorded training sims of the Resurrection crew, and the daily sims Phoenix Squad were doing. In a corner were William McCulloch's automated sims and the ones with her. She let out a slight smile as she reviewed her notes again on his progress. Hopefully, in the end, he will be the person he should be for Victoria.

"Commander, I'm sorry bother you," came the strange nostalgic soft voice of Sweetie from the old Bravo Command computer AI on Starbase Epsilon Seven. The holodeck program overlaid this voice over the station's computer voice for the running holodeck program. "You have an incoming transmission from Commodore Oh's office at Starfleet Security."

Mayla stood up at attention. "On screen 1."

A striking looking human woman with piercing eyes appeared on the large screen on the center of the wall. "Commander Vree, I am Lieutenant Rizzo from Commodore Oh's office. She has asked me to relay to you that Starfleet Intelligence has placed an open tag in your file to allow Starfleet Security to call on your expertise again if your skills are needed."

"I'm pretty busy with my current duty station, Lieutenant." Mayla said, pushing back at the order.

"It's only a tag in your file, Commander. If there is a serious enough situation that requires more than what you can handle, Starfleet Intelligence will certainly take the lead." Rizzo remained stoic and unmoving like a Vulcan.

"Has Admiral MacLeod been notified?"

"He has," Rizzo responded in a steady emotionless voice.
"Very well." Mayla asked, returning the same tone of voice. "Is that all?"

"That is all." The viewscreen abruptly went to the comm channel closed screen.

Colonel Jahkar

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

Jahkar and McCulloch worked together in the days after the Mirror Universe mission to design and implement several training programs for the crew and the security staff aboard Resurrection. Training…it seemed like Jahkar had spent a good part of his life training for this scenario or that situation. He was able to draw upon his Shadow Ops and Marine experience to put together a program and simulations that gave the crew plenty to do during downtime.

When he had time available, Jahkar visited Kedanya on Earth as she began classes at Starfleet Academy. Those six months had been precious, allowing him to see her often when they both had some downtime.

He also spent time with some old Marine buddies on Earth, meeting up for dinner, running and a weekend camping trip in the Yukon he would never forget.
Seeing old friends also set his mind on other things…like the fact two of the four Marine friends were planning to retire in the next couple years.

Jahkar had to admit, he hadn't thought much about retirement since rejoining Shadow Operations. There was always something going on, some threat to the Federation or the galaxy they needed to tend to, so it surprised him when Bill Tackleberry and Veran Sherag both said they were planning to file their retirement papers in the next few months.

Tackleberry, who went through Marine basic training with Jahkar nearly 30 years ago, was ready to settle down with his wife and spend what he called their ‘golden years' hunting, fishing and relaxing at their home in Wyoming.

Bill was barely 50, a couple years older than Jahkar.

Then Sherag, a Bolian who Jahkar had met when he was training Marines on Earth, said he was planning to submit his papers after 35 years with the Federation Marine Corps.

"Two wars and numerous conflicts…plus that disruptor shot to my left leg that gave me a limp," Sherag told him, "that's enough for me, Jahkar. I'm ready for some R&R, go home to Bolius, meet someone who can become my partner and we'll explore exotic places together."

Captain Veran Sherag was 52 years old, with Bolians having an average lifespan of about 100 years old. Not much different than a human.

Jahkar wasn't actually sure what his natural lifespan would be. Growing up on Qo'noS the Klingon doctors often joked he'd be lucky to live to see his teenage years because of his Romulan heritage, living on the Klingon homeworld.

One doctor with a shred of professionalism finally said, considering Klingons typically lived to be 120 (assuming they were not killed before that age) and the average Romulan lived to see 220-250, Jahkar might see 150-200, depending on what half he favored biologically.

Even if he lived to 150, he was nowhere close to that yet. So retirement, to him, seemed far away. Still, it made him wonder if this was the life he was always going to have and if at some point, he might consider doing something else with the time he was given.

Jahkar had seen little of Tiri since the Mirror Universe cluster…mess…as she was spending a lot of time training with Union XII. Their relationship had gone from hot to cold, barely speaking even when they were around one another. He missed her friendship and often found himself thinking about the ‘what ifs' associated with their brief romance.

Considering his thoughts about age as of late, Jahkar wondered if he had broken things off prematurely with the pretty Andorian. She was young, compared to him, but as he considered his lifespan could have him living well past 100 years, maybe age shouldn't matter. What about Vulcans who marry humans? Living an average of two and half times longer than a human in many cases.

Unfortunately, it seemed the damage was done. Tiri was barely even a friend any more…and he didn't blame her. Jahkar had hurt her and he knew that.

For now, he would continue his stint in Shadow Operations and, like the rest of the team, he would wait for their next assignment, which seemed long overdue.

Commander Victoria Smith

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

The past six months had been a rollercoaster for Victoria Smith.

In the days after being admitted to Starfleet Medical, Dr. Julian Bashir, Mayla Vree, William McCulloch, and Fiadh Hannigan visited the nurse together to finally tell her that her second-in-command, Lieutenant Gysyd Riisos, had been killed in action. The news devastated Victoria, who needed to be immediately sedated.

Over the next few days, she quickly slipped into a depression. With Vree suddenly disappearing on a temporary assignment, keeping watch over Smith shifted to Hannigan, McCulloch and Sh'avelith. The trio worked tirelessly to keep her focused on recovery and ultimate discharge from Starfleet medical.

Eventually, Smith accepted Riisos's passing and agreed to meet his replacement … Marine Captain Archer Morgan. The XO was no-nonsense, direct, thorough, and instantly loyal to her. At their first meeting, he confidently mentioned that he could never replace Lieutenant Riisos but would do his best to honor the Orion nurse by doing his duty as her XO. Smith accepted the gesture and temporarily transferred command of Union XII over to him.

Days after meeting Captain Morgan, with Fiadh's support, Victoria pulled herself up by the bootstraps and reclaimed her life.
First, she changed her hair color from red to dark auburn and adopted a bob hairstyle.

She pushed her physical therapists harder than they pushed her. When her recovery team scheduled two sessions daily, she insisted on three. When they assigned an hour of treatment, she demanded two.

Six weeks after her attack, the nurse was taking daily walks with the help of a cybernetic brace and cane. Two months later, she was jogging on a treadmill while only wearing a leg sleeve. By her fifth month, she was routinely seen in the gym lifting weights and exercising before completing sprinting drills across Starfleet Medical's campus.

When she was not focusing on her recovery, Victoria was studying to be certified as a nurse practitioner. During her third month of recovery, she acquiesced to Bashir's demand and obtained the certification. Two months later, she also secured an additional certification as a surgical nurse.

And then there was Union XII. A month after her attack, Julian Bashir appeared in her recovery room to inform her that the proposed plan of expanding Union XII was going forward. Effective immediately, the team would be transferred from the Resurrection to Umbra Prime and be responsible for treating multiple operative teams in the field.

In turn, Union XII was enlarged from nine to twelve members. In addition to Captain Morgan, the team added Ensign Setok, Vulcan male nurse and Petty Officers Kazzarus and Macux, Saurian and Benzite female medics respectively.

Victoria issued daily orders, instructions, and assignments from her recovery area. She made it clear that the team…and especially Tiri … were to be pushed harder than ever. Under Marine Captain Archer Morgan's guidance and with Victoria's blessing, trainings were split between medical skill assessments, physical strength and stamina exercises, combat simulations and joint training with Phoenix Team and the crew of the Resurrection.

To improve relations with the Resurrection's crew, each week, Archer assigned Union XII to a different department on board the Resurrection to better know the crew professionally and personally and understand their specific roles and functions.

Midway through their six-month training, the team received another arms and equipment upgrade. Their tan and black body armor was repainted midnight black and the simple red cross shoulder insignia was replaced with a new insignia - The Grim Reaper adjacent to a red cross on a white field with the unit designation "Union-XII" above and the team's new motto below.

In recognition of the team's actions of saving several members of the Resurrection during the last two missions, as well as their commanding officer, Union XII adopted a new motto, "We Race the Reaper".

It was a slogan Captain Lazarus quickly approved.

During Union XII's fifth month of training, Tiri Sh'avelith came up for her final performance evaluation before being re-assigned full-time to Phoenix Squad.

Victoria made it a point to oversee the final medical trials. When Sh'avelith finished, all of Union XII simply glared at her. Uncertain of what had happened or what went wrong, the Andorian looked about nervously. After a moment of awkward silence, Smith cleared her throat and grimly announced, "patch her".

The team rushed the lieutenant and doused her with several bottles of Andorian ale. Afterward, Victoria presented Sh'avelith with the new Union XII insignia and declared that she was now the "unofficial 13th member" of the team.

Before allowing her nurses and medics to take the Andorian out to celebrate, Victoria made it a point to speak privately with Tiri.

Once alone, Smith presented the young lieutenant with another medical kit stocked with the latest field equipment and supplies. Although the Andorian was thankful for the supplies, she was fixated on the medical case itself…it was so …old.

Victoria smiled as she watched Tiri tear the kit apart, trying to determine the age and origin of the case. Eventually, the lieutenant located three initials engraved in a lower corner of the kit "V.A.S.".

Smith had gifted the first medical kit she received after graduating from Starfleet nursing school so many years earlier

"Just keep doing what you do," was all Smith asked in exchange for the gift.

Of course, Victoria had taken an interest in Sh'avelith during recovery and insisted the Andorian meet every other week with her for dinner. During their time together, Smith would do her best to keep the conversation light and avoid work or personal issues. She knew the Andorian was a private person who kept to herself but encouraged and supported Will in his command role. As a result, she felt it incumbent on her to ensure Tiri felt supported both on and off duty. Victoria did her best to make her feel as welcome as possible when they were together off-duty.

Throughout her recovery, Will was always by her side …but she noted he was growing increasingly distant as she progressed through her treatment. He would make excuses not to be alone with her. Often he would hide behind training sessions or blame Jahkar or the others for not spending more time with her.
But Victoria knew Will …he was lying.

At first, she thought Vree's rituals were driving him away. Smith fumed and contemplated giving Vree a piece of her mind and telling her to knock it off, but the Scot insisted on pressing forward. Eventually, she wondered if it was her … was she too much of a "hot mess" to reconnect with again?

Sometimes when alone, Victoria would break down and cry, worried that whatever she and Will had was slowly slipping away. She desperately searched for what she may have done to drive him away slowly.

Eventually, she shared her fears with Fiadh.

The Irish nurse scoffed at the notion of William McCulloch giving up on her, but she raised a valid point … was Will suffering from combat stress due to the last mission?

The two nurses promised each other they would carefully monitor Will and report their findings to Vree and Lazarus when appropriate.

And now, six months later, all that was left was for Victoria to wait.

Wait for Will to overcome whatever demon was driving him from her…

Wait for the medical clearance so she could start the training she did not complete with her team…

Wait until she could return to duty and resume command of Union XII…

Just wait.

Lt. Tiri Sh'avelith

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

Tiri finished washing up after a daunting 10-hour triage session set in a simulation which placed her on a battlefield where the Federation was fighting a vicious Breen military force. They were running a battlefield hospital on a remote, barren colony called Telerax VI, treating an endless flow of injured Federation Marines who were pouring into the mobile medical units Union XII was operating from.

She had lost count of how many disruptor burns, knife injuries and shrapnel wounds she'd treated during those 10 hours. After weeks of running these kinds of sims, Tiri found not much fazed her any more.

The mutilated leg of Commander Smith all those months ago no longer seemed as bad as some of the injuries she was seeing on an almost daily basis. Even though these were holograms, it was just as real as that day back in the mines beneath the Terran prison.

Even though the blood covering her arms, hands and the front of her scrubs was holographic, her Union XII trainers made her wash up like it was real – all part of the experience, they told her. When she was finished, she met the other Union XII team members at the Arch and smiled.

"Ready," she said.

Marine Captain Archer Morgan, acting leader of Union XII, smiled at the Andorian and she looked around, noticing the grins on the faces of the other nurses and medics.

"What?" Sh'avelith asked, looking around for some kind of a prank or joke she was missing. "What happened? What did I do this time? Did someone stick a ‘kick me' note on my back again?"

Senior Petty Officer Iams Gatc snorted as he fought back an outburst of laughter. "Sorry, that was me by the way."

"I figured that out," the Andorian grinned.

"You're done," Morgan said. "The battlefield sim was your final test. You passed. Congratulations."

The other clapped as Tiri looked on humbly, "I'm…honored. I have learned so much these past months. Thank you."

"Thanks for putting up with us," Gatc said smiling.

"If you're looking for a new assignment, you could join us," Morgan said. "You could easily be a medic. I could even get you a Marine commission."

Tiri smiled, "Thanks, but no. I like being team medic. I wouldn't want to do it as my daily job."

Hannigan smirked, "She likes fighting and spy stuff."

"That's also in the Marine wheelhouse," Gatc said.

"I'll pass," Tiri repeated. "I do appreciate all you've taught me. Question is, will we ever get back out there in order for me to use any of it."

Morgan's expression dimmed somewhat, "Enjoy the lull, I'm sure we'll all be back in the crosshairs again soon, lieutenant."

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

MacLeod went over the last of the forms and paperwork displayed on the three PADDs laid out on his desktop and finished signing each. He then opened a channel to Phoenix 8.

"Lt. Commander McCulloch," MacLeod said. "Report to my ready room."

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Cody Beckett

Earth, Starfleet Medical

Stardate 2303.20

Six months had passed since Daryl had been hospitalized. Lots of therapy, mental training, meditation, Vulcan mindmelds and several surgeries implanting new positronic based computing elements in his skull as a replacement for the chip that had been overloaded and severely damaged in the process in his Mirror Universe adventures were but a few of the ingredients that were necessary to get Daryl back in mental shape.

With the training on Vulcan and Betazed he had learned a lot of new techniques to keep his mind, thoughts and emotions better in control. He also became aware that, after the first surgery, he sometimes heard voices and could 'feel' emotions from people around him. Investigation pointed out that he for whatever reason was now sensitive to the thoughts and feelings from others. He had become a telepath of sorts.

Daryl had been through a lot. Especially the nightmares had been terrible. Even after several sessions of removing the engrams from his mirror alter ego, the nightmares worsened, up to the point where he slipped in a psychosis. It was much better now, although the nightmares were still there. Much less, but still not gone. They would, eventually, he knew from his earlier experience.

Today was the last of the checkups. It was the type of checkup that would decide if he could get back to active duty. Even though that hadn't been sure, in between mental trainings, he had run simulations on a distance with the rest of the team. Two holodecks, one on Umbra Prime, one on a location where Daryl was, had been locked together and synced so they could train together over the vast distance between Umbra Prime and wherever he was. Because of that, Daryl was in as good a shape. Now he was sitting, nervously and tense, waiting for Thorpe to give him the outcome…

McCulloch and Beckett were with Thompson as they waited for Thorpe to arrive. Will simply stared out a nearby window and studied San Francisco Bay while Beckett shared stories of his shore leave with Sarah Pickering.

The Scot had another nightmare the previous evening. This time, Doctor Smith announced, "wakey wakey, eggs and bakey" before cutting his chest open with a dull laser scalpel. All the time, she just … laughed … as he sobbed and begged her to end the pain. As she forcefully snapped off a rib, he woke up gasping for air.

"Hey, mate," Cody called, trying to get the Scot's attention. "You alright?"

Will looked at his two friends before nodding. "Sorry, I didn't sleep well last night and I'm a bit distracted."

"You missed the best part about Sarah and I sailing on Ipswich Bay." The New Zealander announced.

"Was she wearing clothes?" McCulloch sarcastically countered.

"Aye, she was. Well, a bikini counts as clothing, right?"

Will held up his hand in protest. "Nope, no more … I don't want to know."

"Will, how is Victoria been since her discharge?" Daryl interrupted as he looked knowingly at the Scot.

McCulloch hesitated for a very brief moment before smiling weakly. "She's with Darva today doing ‘girl stuff,' or that's at least what Victoria told me."

"They're bar hopping," Thompson announced. In the aftermath of the Terran mission, Darva and Victoria had become closer and were now socializing together when off duty.

"Now that is a show I would pay to watch," Beckett snickered. "Team red on the prowl."

"Touche, Mr. Beckett," Will announced with a nod of approval before changing the subject. "Where is Thorpe?"

As if he had been waiting, Thorpe suddenly appeared, coming from the adjacent room. He sat down and read on his padd. Then he looked at Daryl.

"Congratulations, Mr. Thompson" he said.

"I am a bit in a hurry,.so.I'm making this quick. You are dismissed from Starfleet Medical.

You've made huge progress and you are ready for active duty again. But, a piece of advice from my side.two actually. First,.keep on practicing the training you got. Although it's.a.giant leap from where you come from, you still need the practice. And second…If I were you I would consider getting a less…hectic job…."

Daryl looked at Thorpe.

"Slim chance" Daryl announced.

"This is my family. And I owe them"

Thorpe nodded. "I understand…it's just a suggestion. With all you've been through in your life, I would understand if you would choose for a more…easy life.

"That would become boring" Daryl stated dryly. Thorpe got up, shook hands with Daryl, wishing him all the best, then he excused himself.

"Gentlemen…" he stated while nodding and disappeared as quick as he came.

Cody looked at Daryl. "Congrats mate, you did it."

Daryl was a bit perplexed, as he thought he would never be able to get back to active duty.

"I'd say this is the appropriate time to take Mr. Thompson to a proper pub for a pint." Will announced as he slowly suppressed the nightmares of the previous evening.

"Now you're talking McCulloch!"

Before Daryl could answer, the Scot's comm badge chirped.

"Lt. Commander McCulloch," MacLeod said. "Report to my ready room."

"What the bloody hell is that about?" Cody asked. There was a tone of concern in his voice.

"I honestly have no idea." McCulloch stammered.

"Well, you better get going," Daryl pressed. "We'll let you know what pub we end up at."

With that Will spun on his heels and exited Thompson's recovery room.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

The Scot tapped his comm badge as soon as he exited Thomson's discharge meeting.

"Understood sir," McCulloch answered. "I just left Starfleet Medical and I am en route to you sir."

"Acknowledged, Macleod out."

About a half hour later, the Scot arrived at MacLeod's office. Will was greeted by the admiral's personal assistant with a curt nod before being escorted into his office. Once before MacLeod, McCulloch snapped to attention.

"Sir, reported as requested."

Lt. J.G Reepchip Charatatet

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.20

Reepchip was in a quandary. Lieutenant Commander McCulloch was clearly haunted by something that had happened in the Mirror Universe, but wouldn't say what. Meanwhile, his would-be mate, Victoria Smith, could see he was acting strangely and it was hurting her deeply. And yet, Reepchip was a subordinate officer, it wasn't his place to step in. As the months passed, what he saw of McCulloch during training and what he saw of Smith whenever Reepchip needed to go to the infirmary spoke louder and louder to him that something was deeply wrong.

Finally, he decided to act—as a Starfleet Officer, he might be subordinate to McCulloch, but Shamans stood outside the usual command structure back home. Even if there was no equivalent here, he would speak as a Shaman to a deeply hurting man. Reepchip waited near bklthe crew's quarters for McCulloch. When his superior officer approached, Reepchip saluted very precisely. "Sir. Permission to speak plainly sir."

"Granted…" said McCulloch, carefully.

"Sir. I can see you are a haunted man—you've been haunted ever since we left the Mirror Universe."

"Have you been reading my mind? Listening to my thoughts?" McCulloch demanded.

"Sir, no sir. I have been reading your eyes and listening to your silence, sir. People… often do not understand how loudly Silence speaks. I will not ask what malevolent ghost followed you from the realm my Masters deemed accursed, but I only wish to say this:" He tried to keep his voice steady—he knew he was treading on very thin ice. "Such spirits never haunt only one person. They haunt many: First, their target"—he gestured towards William—" then those they love, who see what the haunting does to the target, and are confused about the behavior of the one they love. Let others know of this haunting, so at least they have what comfort knowing that you are haunted will give them. And sir… remember three things." He swallowed hard. "First, no woman proves herself as strong as the one who sees her mate injured or sick, and willingly goes to his aide, or defends the den as the one who should be defending the territory lays weakened within. Second, an injury left untreated will fester, a hidden ghost grows strong, and both will sap your strength. Third—no one person can quell a ghost alone. When one faces a ghost alone, he is beset on all sides. But when two face two thousand ghosts together, they battle those ghosts standing back-to-back…" He trailed off, standing as stiffly as a nervous rookie facing a dressing-down. The only motion in his body was his tail quivering with nervousness; he was afraid he'd said too much—or presumed too much.

Reepchip might have been wearing a Starfleet uniform, but McCulloch could tell he'd just heard the Muran speak as a Shaman.

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.24

Ryramorl left his gift to Hannigan with the quartermaster, along with instructions of how to set up the player and PADD with the lyrics in both the original language and a generated translation. The image on the album packaging—which bore the title Purest Breeding—showed the Carnora of the band showing off traits that simply weren't normal for their base types—such as one of the Olvern having webbed handpaws and another having almost no tail, an Ataran turned to show off his bushy tail as well as snarling to expose as much of his tusks as possible and another Ataran being built like a tank and well over 8' tall, and a Usarin with a thick long tail and short tusks.

If the title didn't display enough sarcasm, the album itself oozed it. The opening song "Three Hairs Out Of Place" started with the patient blubbering and sobbing over a treatment for a sore arm having hideously, dreadfully marred his coat by leaving three hairs out of place, resulting in his social downfall and rejection from high society. Then it went to his would-be mate complaining about his oh-so-unsightly blemish, dumping his sorry ass, and being forever haunted by such a horrific sight. In the third verse, the healer howled about his fall from grace and professional ruin for letting such a disgusting thing happen. In the final verse, the band made a quick recap of all the drama that occurred over something that could be fixed with a hair brush.

The track "Besgin Steak" was a song about the titular dish, which was apparently as stereotypical a Food For The Rich on Carnor as caviar was on Earth. It was a fairly straightforward description of how ingredients had to come from all around Carnor—though the band viciously mocked how much effort went into making a chunk of meat that didn't even fill the belly.

The final track, "Bastards Of Land And Sea" was a traditional Coastal song that was the result of centuries of various tribes trying to top each other for profanity. As the Universal Translator was not programmed for such foul language, Ryramorl had translated it himself.

Fiadh shuddered after trying to get through the music. She returned the album to its packaging and placed it in a secure vault in her quarters. Afterward, she made a note to someday secure permission from Smith to exact humorous revenge on the Carnora.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Commander Mayla Vree

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.24

Mayla Vree was in the Phoenix War Room on Umbra Prime going over the Team's debriefings following their recent round of simulations when she heard someone enter the conference room and approach from behind her. She turned to see Admiral MacLeod walking up, greeting her with a warm smile.

"Keeping busy I see," he said. "How are your latest training sims with the team?"

She turned back around to the paused miniature holoprojections of their last few sims that didn't show anyone who the Federation had considered an enemy. They were sims against previous Shadow Operations teams. When she didn't immediately respond, he took that as a negative review.

"That bad?" he said with a frown.

"They need more work on this…" she gestured to the holosim projections…"sort of encounter. Their tactics need to remain fluid, just as fluid as another Shadow Ops team. That makes these types of confrontations more challenging. The holo sims' AI extrapolated the decision-making process the old teams used from the sims they went through."

"Even Bravo Squad?" MacLeod asked, scrutinizing one of the holosims floating above the console.

"They had the most sims. Well over a thousand. Kyril kept each one stored to review and reuse later on."

"I saw your training schedule. Did you really think they would perform otherwise?"

"After that last mission to the Mirror Universe, they have to put aside those emotions if we have to fight people with the same skill set as us.
Regardless of what universe they may be in."

"Do you know something I don't?" MacLeod's lips pursed into a line and his eyes narrowed. "Are you preparing for a fight with our own people?"

Mayla didn't look at him but to stare at the holodeck projections. "Of course not. But preparation is important so as not to be surprised when a similar situation does arise."

The admiral took that cryptic response the way it was meant. It probably won't happen, but it could happen. It wasn't reassuring hearing that from someone who might have an intelligence reach beyond what Starfleet Intelligence knew of. But his thoughts turned immediately to Jaegar's treachery, and he couldn't blame her for thinking that. WAS there a new pseudo-Section 31 brewing within Starfleet, or the Federation? He shook himself from that thought and came back to the reason he came to see her.

MacLeod leaned against the console; hands firmly planted on the smooth, molded surface of the panel. He looked at Vree and it was obvious he was there to deliver news she might not want to hear.

"Couple of things have come up," MacLeod said. "One, Commander Sornax has put in for a transfer and I've granted his request. He and Lazarus were not getting along, so we both felt it was best he goes. I have a new XO on her way. Commander Alki, she's Deltan."

Mayla nodded as on another screen a bald woman's profile suddenly appeared above the center console, brought up from her linked commands within her eyelenses. The name sounded familiar. "And you're sure the captain will get along with her?"

"She has a stronger intelligence background than Sornax, so I'm hopeful she'll be able to compliment Lazarus rather than be at odds with him," MacLeod said. "She's not going to take any of his crap, but she won't be critical of his every move. Sornax was too ‘by the book' for the captain. A rules-person is good up to a point, but you and I know rules sometimes need to be bent."

"More often than not, Admiral. We wouldn't be performing these missions if everything had to go by Starfleet regulations and conduct." Mayla read through the profile quickly and discovered why the Deltan looked and sounded familiar. There usually weren't that many Deltans in Starfleet Academy, so those rarities tend to be more commonly known to everyone on campus. And there were even fewer nine-year-olds such as herself attending the Academy at the same time. She decided to keep that information to herself for the moment and continued the topic with Lazarus. She closed the Deltan's file and turned back to MacLeod.

"When Lazarus was first assigned to Bravo Squad, it took the Bravo Epsilon Seven team time to adapt to the Captain's hard gruff exterior. Albeit to say that he's softened up a bit in the years since then, maybe Commander Alki will fill in that which he has…lost."

MacLeod cocked his head to one side. "Are you saying Lazarus has lost his edge?"

"No, I wouldn't say that about him unless it endangered any of the crew or the mission. I'm just saying…he's not getting any younger. He should spend his remaining years doing what's best for himself, and not just for duty."

"Just for duty?" He said with a smirk. "Coming from you, that's almost funny. Nearly your whole life has been for duty so far."

Mayla tried to return a smile at the remark, but the comment hit deeper than he realizes. She had decided long ago she was going to dedicate her life to Starfleet Shadow Operations because it was THAT organization that saved her life on more than one occasion. And with her Linea skillset, her abilities are and has been put to good use. At least she hoped.

"But I didn't lose my entire family, and to suddenly find out one of them was still alive decades later." She suddenly blurted out a bit more forcefully than she intended.

The admiral now looked at her sternly. He knew Mayla and Lazarus had known each other since she was a child, but to hear this coming from her gave him some concern. "Are you referring to him learning about his daughter?"

"He hasn't spoken to me about it in a while, so I don't really know what he's thinking or feeling about it. But I did send him a message before I left for the mission for Starfleet Security, telling him to leave us and to go make up for lost time with her." Mayla said it outloud so fast that she didn't know how the admiral was going to respond to it.

"You what? You told him to quit us?"

"Sir, with all due respect, Shadow Ops will continue without him. The missions will still come without him. And there will always be some crisis Starfleet must attend to, without him. Life goes on despite him staying or leaving."

"You damn nearly sound like something Sorvek would say." MacLeod said.

"Partly. But I think family is important, and that we should hold on and cherish the time we have left with them. That's just what I want him to have. It's been a long time since he's had any real family to be with."

MacLeod raised his eyebrows and nodded, "Well, I guess we'll see what he plans to do. So, back to my original train of thought. The second thing I wanted to discuss is I am forming a second Shadow Ops team, at the behest of the Security Council.

"I'm placing McCulloch in charge of this new team," the admiral continued. "I'd also like to take Lt. Commanders Thompson and Ra'yral. Daryl needs a change of pace after what he's been through and I'm assigning Rygaran to Phoenix to oversee Reepchip's newfound abilities. He's better equipped to train Reepchip and, quite frankly, I don't want three Carnora on one team. Rygaran will assume the title of Special Agent on loan from the Carnora. Essentially an exchange officer.

"You will get a new operator, Captain Owain Pickering from the Federation Marine Corp will join your unit. Are you going to be OK with these changes?"

"Another marine? I guess with Ra'yral being transferred, we'd need more muscle to balance it out." MacLeod transferred dossiers over to Mayla's console which she immediately opened up. "I'm to assume that Rygaran won't be going into the field with us, right?"

"I understand he's fit and trained by Carnoran spec ops," MacLeod concluded. "The Carnora government and Starfleet still have an exchange agreement. The council is good with the decision. If you determine he's not a good fit, we can discuss it."

"He'll have to be integrated into the team sims as soon as possible so we can at least function like a team in the field before our next mission." Mayla said, perusing through Rygaran's file. She wasn't concerned about Pickering, he was a Marine, and she'd been around Jahkar long enough to know how most marines think and function. But as for the Carnoran spec ops training, she will have to look into that. Starting off with some sims to see how he would react to certain situations and what he would do. "Please have them both report to me when they come on board."

"I'll inform them." MacLeod was about to turn to leave until she had another question.

"Sir, so the Security Council has decided that our clandestine organization is needed?" She said with the least amount of emotion in their entire conversation so far.

"It seems we've passed whatever test they wanted to see us go through." MacLeod said. "This will be the second operational team, and I understand they are looking at assembling a third team, though details on that are sketchy."

"I'm still uneasy with us taking missions from the Security Council and not Starfleet Intelligence."

"I'm not a fan of it myself," MacLeod said. "I know Commodore Oh is not thrilled with it either. The council has cut them out yet expects her people to provide us with intel…no questions asked. Admiral Clancy supports the council, so Oh has no choice but to cooperate. The situation is not the best…but I believe the council has its reasons for controlling Shadow Ops. I think their intentions are good, but I haven't figured out exactly why they want to maintain that control."

"Is the Security Council and Starfleet Security trying to work independently from Starfleet Intelligence?"

"It is rather odd that both are siphoning resources from Starfleet Intelligence and cutting them off from taking the lead on covert missions," the admiral said.

"I feel a coup coming on. Someone wants to absorb Starfleet Intelligence. Or wrestle for control of Shadow Operations. It's not like it hasn't been attempted before."

MacLeod shook his head, but more so with a question mark than a definite no as an answer to her speculation. "You let me worry about what's going on in the politics and you focus on your people and the missions."

Mayla responded as if she didn't hear his last comment. "I guess we just have to keep our eyes and ears peeled for anything that would raise suspicions. It's difficult to really know who to trust." Mayla said slowly, not trying to hint at Shadow Ops rather turbulent history with infiltrators and traitors.

MacLeod nodded with understanding. Jaeger had been what everyone thought was a trusted CO, despite several other Shadow Ops brass having also taken that same fork in the road to betray them in the past. "I understand your concern, Commander. We'll continue to play it by ear."

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.21

The Scot tapped his comm badge, responding to MacLeod as soon as he exited Thomson's discharge meeting.

"Understood sir," McCulloch answered. "I just left Starfleet Medical, and I am en route to you sir."

"Acknowledged, MacLeod out."

About a half hour later, the Scot arrived at MacLeod's office, where the admiral had gone after his meeting with Vree. Will was greeted by the admiral's personal assistant with a curt nod before being escorted into his office. Once before MacLeod, McCulloch snapped to attention.

"Sir, reported as requested."

MacLeod motioned for the fellow Scot to sit down across from him. Once Will was seated, MacLeod began.

"I trust you are well? And Victoria?" Ian asked.

Will hesitated slightly before answering. "Yes, sir. The last few months have been busy to say the least but worth it. Phoenix Team is ready to return to action sir."

"Did you take any down time or shore leave?"

"Not really sir. Between trainings and spending time with Victoria and Thompson in recovery, I really didn't have much time."

"And Victoria?" The admiral repeated.

"She's well sir," Will answered as he wondered whether MacLeod picked up on his earlier hesitation. "She appreciated your visits while she was in recovery."

"The pleasure was mine," the admiral replied "It was a nice surprise to see she is teaching herself Gaelic. I enjoyed sharing a few curse words to throw your way."

McCulloch smirked slightly. "Aye sir, she's already using them."

"When does she return to active duty?"

"In approximately two to four months." Will conceded. "She needs to complete a series of psychological evaluations and complete a battery of training modules. Needless to say she's not happy she's sitting on the sidelines."

MacLeod chuckled softly before eying the Scot. "You do know you are way out of your league with Ms. Smith."

"Sir?"

"She is one tough little nurse, more than we often give her credit for."

"Aye sir, she is."

"She's also quite charming and apparently an excellent connoisseur of whiskey." The admiral noted. "Although I have to admit I was disappointed to hear she prefers American to Scottish whiskey."

"Fortunately, it's not a deal breaker sir." Will replied, as he worried where MacLeod was going with the conversation.

"Marriage Mr. McCulloch?"

McCulloch scoffed slightly. "Too soon sir."

"Bah! She's quite a catch Will." MacLeod announced before smiling almost knowingly at McCulloch. "A little advice commander? Don't lose that one a second time. Am I clear?"

Will hesitated again before answering. The admiral was right …he didn't want to lose her. He smiled and nodded in agreement. "Perfectly clear sir. I won't let her go."

"Will, you and I spoke a while back about making your position with Shadow Ops official," MacLeod said. "Official as in returning to Starfleet, we drop the provisional rank, and you return completely into the fold. Have you thought any more about this?"

The sudden change in conversation caught McCulloch completely off guard. He stammered momentarily before answering. Did Tiri access his PADD containing his petition for reinstatement into Starfleet?

"Yes sir, I have given considerable thought to the matter. In fact, I had even drafted a petition to you requesting full reinstatement."

"You never submitted it?" MacLeod asked. There was a tone of sincere curiosity in his voice.

"No sir, I wasn't sure if I'd be wasting your time."

MacLeod smiled, "No, you wouldn't be. In fact, an application won't be necessary. If you want back in, consider yourself reinstated."

The admiral slid a small plastic box across the desktop to McCulloch, who accepted it with a smile. When he opened it, Will laughed, "I think someone made a mistake, admiral. These are commander pips."

"No," MacLeod said, nonchalantly. "No mistake. Your reinstatement to Starfleet comes with a stipulation: A promotion to commander and your own team. We're starting a second Shadow Operations unit and I want you to lead it."

McCulloch nearly fell out of his chair at the news. Macleod chuckled as the Scot scrambled to regain his balance and sit upright in his chair.

"Sir," McCulloch nervously asked as he tried to comprehend what was happening. "You want me to command a second team?"

"I do. You are more than capable for this role."

"Me? William McCulloch?"

"Is there another McCulloch I need to persuade?"

Will sat before the admiral in stunned silence. He started to speak but quickly stopped as he reflected on what had just happened. After a moment, a smile spread across his face.

"I accept." Will confidently announced with curt nod. He tightly held onto the case containing the new pips. "Thank you, sir for this opportunity. I will not let you down."

"I have no doubt, Commander McCulloch. Do you have any questions?"

"I have one sir, tell me about my team."

MacLeod pulled up a holographic display projected from his desktop, and he called up information which scrolled there in mid-air for Will to see and read.

"From Phoenix Squad you're taking Thompson and Ryramorl, so you'll have some friendly faces there," MacLeod said, displaying the files and images of the three Phoenix operators.

Next, the admiral accessed the image of a young Vulcan woman with short black hair styled very unlike any hairdo he'd seen on a Vulcan before. "This is Lt. T'Zol, communications and tech expert, also skilled in cybernetics. I'll fill you in later on some of her details, but she has a cybernetic implant in her brain."

The image and file displayed after T'Zol was that of big human male, his hair nearly shaved down and a short black beard along his jawline and chin.

"Chief Petty Officer Yevgeni Ibragimov. Former Maquis, former mercenary and recently reinstated to Starfleet Intelligence. He worked with Sorvek and I as a contractor on some spec ops for old Shadow Ops and Starfleet Intelligence. We used him on the mission before you joined us. He wanted back in, so I decided to give him a shot."

He then pulled up the stats on a Federation starship, a cruiser of some sort – larger than Resurrection. It was a Vesta-class multi-mission explorer, fitted for Shadow Ops duty no doubt. McCulloch was intrigued.

"The USS Yorktown-C," MacLeod said. "Vesta-class, fitted with surveillance and intel gathering package, phased cloaking device, ablative hull armor and a slipstream drive. Not as fast as Resurrection, but fine for quick deployment.

"She's captained by Takeo Nogura, and yes if you studied Starfleet history, he is related to THAT Nogura. Head of Starfleet during some of the Kirk-years. Great-great grandfather, I think. But don't mention it, he hates it.

"First officer is Commander Autumn Delacroix," the admiral continued, pulling up the image and file on an attractive, young blonde. "You're going to find out anyway, since it's in her dossier, but she is the daughter of Admiral Erik Jaegar."

McCulloch pulled up the holographic screen so the type was bigger, then scanned over the details before his mouth dropped open.

"Jaegar had a daughter out of wedlock. His wife didn't know?" Will asked, flabbergasted.

MacLeod sighed, "Indeed. He maintained a relationship with his daughter for years, groomed her for Starfleet Intelligence. Made the mistake of trying to recruit her into Section 31. Apparently, he didn't groom her well enough…she turned him in. She's the reason he's sitting in a cell now."

With all the windows scattered in the air above the desktop, MacLeod swiped them aside with a brush of his hand, "Questions? Concerns?"

McCulloch proceeded to pepper the admiral with a series of questions on logistics, team trainings to date, potential personality conflicts and operational parameters. MacLeod was quite patient and answered all of Will's questions to his satisfaction.

"I only have a couple of more questions."

"Of course, ask as many as you wish."

"I understand Thompson, Ryramorl and I will be pulled from Phoenix Team. What is Commander Vree's position on this promotion and new team?"

"She's fine with it," MacLeod said. "She was typically non-emotional about it, but otherwise seemed good."

"What is the code name of this team?"

"Ghost Squad," the admiral replied.

"And finally, sir, when do we start getting to work?" McCulloch eagerly asked.

"Shortly," Ian said, handing over a PADD with specs and details on the team. "I'll let you speak with Thompson and Ra'yal, give them the news."

Once Macleod answered all of Will's questions, the newly promoted commander nodded in understanding before rising from his seat and standing at attention.

"Sir," McCulloch announced. "I will not disappoint you. Thank you for the opportunity."

MacLeod also stood and shook McCulloch's hand, "You've earned in commander." MacLeod then gripped his hand, solidly. "Admiral Sorvek would agree. Be ready for transfer to the new team in five days. I expect them to arrive by then, as well as the Yorktown. You, Daryl and Ryramorl can wrap up any remaining Phoenix business in that time. Ghost operations will be located in habitat three of Umbra Prime, so you'll receive assignments of quarters and so forth."

## S5, E2, Act 5: Reason to Celebrate

Commander William McCulloch

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.28

McCulloch eyed Reepchip momentarily. The young lieutenant seemed quite nervous in the presence of the Scot.

Of course, Will understood why. The Muran somehow sensed he had been battling personal demons for six months, impacting his relationship with those around him…especially Victoria. Perhaps out of loyalty to the nurse or friendship with McCulloch, Reepchip had just gone out on a limb to give him personal advice while the pair were still in the waiting area of Admiral MacLeod.

The Scot motioned for Reepchip to follow him as the pair left MacLeod's office and worked their way back toward their habitat area. McCulloch tightly kept the plastic case containing his new command pips in his hand.

"That is pretty brazen of you to offer unsolicited advice, Lieutenant," Will announced before pausing. "But it is welcomed advice, friend and I appreciate your insights."

Reepchip seemed to relax slightly. Before he could speak, the Scot continued. "I won't get into the details of my ghosts, but they visit me every night.
I am trying to deal with them but apparently, I am not trying hard enough."

"It is not about trying hard enough, sir. It is about trying alone. Does Commander Smith know?"

"No," McCulloch admitted with an audible sigh. "But she will. After everything that's happened today, I need to nip this in the bud as best I can."
"Sir? Is everything alright?"

McCulloch smiled slightly. "Thank you for your concern…and your unwavering loyalty to Commander Smith. I know she would appreciate your thoughtful words. Dismissed Lieutenant."

Will watched Reepchip start to leave but called after him.

"Lieutenant?"

"Sir?" The Muran replied as he halted and spun to face McCulloch.

"I can see why Commander Smith thinks very highly of you." The Scot announced. "And you've earned that respect tenfold. Thank you, lieutenant."

"You're welcome, sir. I am, after all, a Shaman, and a good Shaman is, among other things, a healer."

"I thought you were an engineer."

"Does not an engineer heal a ship, sir?" At a gesture of dismissal, Reepchip saluted and turned to go.

After Reepchip left, he keyed a nearby computer panel.

"Computer, locate Commander Victoria Smith."

"Commander Smith is in her quarters."

When Will reached Victoria's quarters, he pressed the door chime and leaned casually against the wall adjacent to her entrance. When the nurse answered, she was wearing a t-shirt and running tights. She was holding a pair of sneakers in her right hand.

"Will?" She asked. "This is unexpected. Is everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better." He slyly replied.

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to Mr. McCulloch?"

"I want to show you something."

"The last time you tried that line on me, Mayla didn't speak to me for a week."

"No, I promise this is good."

Smith cautiously studied Will. For six months, he had started to distance himself from her. Now, he was at her doorstep, acting as if nothing was happening. Was he playing games? Preparing to end it with her?

"What do you want, Will?" She asked nervously before stepping back into her quarters and waving McCulloch to follow her.

"We have a lot to discuss and … celebrate."

"Celebrate?"

Will retrieved the plastic case from his pocket, placed it on a nearby table, and slid it across towards her.

Smith looked at the case and briefly folded her arms. After a moment of hesitation, she pointed at the container.

"That looks like a case for officer pips."

"It is. Open it."

"Have you been reinstated as a Starfleet officer?"

McCulloch merely shrugged before gesturing for her to open the case.

Victoria picked up the box and lifted the lid. Her green eyes grew wide before slapping the container shut.

"No way!" She exclaimed as she tried to contain a squeal.

"Way," McCulloch replied with a chuckle.

"Who else knows?"

"You're the first," Will answered. "I came here right after I met with MacLeod."

Smith felt her eyes well up with tears. If there were truly a chance he didn't want to be with her, William McCulloch would not be sharing this news with her first.

Fiadh was right. McCulloch was battling some sort of demon, but it was likely not her. Still, the thought of him facing this internal fight alone saddened her.

"Sit down," Victoria ordered while gesturing to a chair next to the table. Once seated, she immediately sat on his lap, leaned in, and removed the Lt. Commander's pips from his uniform collar. Afterward, she started to affix the new insignia.

"Damnit," She cursed as the backing to the pips slipped away from her fingers.

"You're crying," Will noted as he wiped tears away with his thumb.

Victoria nodded silently as she sniffled.

"It's both a happy and sad cry," She replied as she choked on tears. "It's happy because you did it…you're redeemed. You've been reinstated and promoted within Starfleet. Very few people can claim that. And…"

"And?"

"And you told me first."

"Of course. Who else am I going to tell?"

"So I'm stuck with you?" Smith asked as she began to sob again. "Because I really want to be stuck with you. If Mayla is driving you away from me, please tell me and I will have her stop. I promise I will."

"Who else is going to put up with me?" He asked as Victoria weakly laughed before sniffling loudly.

"I don't want to take this moment from you," she pleaded. "But you've been so distant. What is wrong? Is it me?"

McCulloch sighed and debated how best to tell the nurse how, almost every night, her Terran Empire counterpart visited him in nightmares to torture and torment him.

"Desiree said I should have told you months ago about this, but I stubbornly refused," Will confessed. "I…I didn't want to burden you with this. I'm sorry"

"You've been seeking counseling over whatever is troubling you? That's good." Victoria answered reassuringly as she again wiped her eyes.

The Scot exhaled loudly before looking Smith directly in the eyes. "I'm going to tell you everything about the nightmares and post-combat stress I've been experiencing since the Terran operation."

Commander Mayla Vree and Commander Victoria Smith

Her quarters in Habitat 3, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.28

"You're working him too hard," came the stern voice of Victoria Smith addressing her from Earth on the wall monitor in her quarters across from her couch.

Mayla was sitting on the couch working with several padds spread out all around her and the table in front of her. "Who?"

"Will, that's who."

"I don't know what you mean. He's taken command of a new team, he doesn't report to me anymore." She had a padd in each hand looking at the holosim stats for each member of Phoenix Squad. Having less Starfleet personnel in the team required her to update herself on the latest protocol and etiquette trends with the marine contingencies and now the Carnora spec ops training. She needed to know exactly what her two new transfer-ins should be capable of. She'd have to discuss it with Jahkar before they arrived at the station.

"You know he mumbles your name sometimes when he thinks I'm not paying attention," she said with a slight mocking smile. "And not in a very nice way."
Mayla just continued to look at the PADDs, trying not to meet her eyes. "How do you like Future's Edge?"

"I've been a few times. It was strange to see your mother performing as if she was still here after my first visit. Maybe a little bit too unnerving. But I've gotten used to it. Verad seems to be running the restaurant pretty well."

"According to the monthly books, it's doing very well. As long as it stays in business and he's happy doing it. It's his way of remembering her, but sometimes it makes me sad thinking that along with her, Nilani is gone too." Mayla put down the PADD and picked up a larger one and began scrolling through the data.

Victoria gave her a critical look when she realized that Mayla had turned the conversation away from what she really wanted to talk about. The sneak.
"When are you going to release him from your liyea'tai?" Victoria asked sternly.

"When he knows he's ready to commit to a long meaningful relationship with you for the rest of his natural life."

"He's been pretty good lately. Even with the new expectations and sensibilities from Jiarin."

"Jiarin had harsh expectations," Mayla said nonchalantly.

"Yes, I remember that. And I like that. And the fact that I can throw him out on his arse, he'd better adhere to them."

"I'm to be sure that doesn't happen, you know."

"Will won't ask you to release him." Victoria scoffed "He says it's too important to you and he wishes to honor that."
"Does he?' Mayla answered. There was almost a tone of surprise in her voice.

"He does," Smith replied. "He's almost as stubborn as you."

"I doubt that,"

"If you won't release him, at least go easy on him for the immediate future," Victoria nagged. "He has too much on his plate."

"Did he tell you about his promotion before anyone else?"

"He did," the nurse answered with a slight blush.

"Well, then he completed that test."

"But there's something more I need to talk to you about."

"Are you pregnant?" Mayla sarcastically asked as she reviewed a nearby padd.

"Don't be fresh," Victoria scolded before continuing. "... And no, I'm not."

"It's about his becoming distant with you."

"How…how did you know?"

Mayla looked back up at Victoria. "Sometimes best friends look out for each other."

Smith paused momentarily. "Fiadh."

"She is almost loyal to a fault. She told me a few weeks ago because she is concerned for you."

Victoria paused momentarily before continuing. "The Terran mission really rattled him. He's having ongoing nightmares and possible combat related stress as a result of it."

"But he cleared his most recent psych evaluation." Vree countered. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have been promoted and given command of a team."
"Klomden's counseling sessions are helping tremendously, but …"

"Has he described the nightmares to you?"

Smith averted her eyes and began to chew on her index finger nervously.

"Victoria?"

"Mayla, his nightmares are of me … of Doctor Smith torturing and doing unspeakable things to him."

"I thought maybe as long as you didn't dress like her again, even for fun-"

"This is serious."

"If he is experiencing some post traumatic episode, it will have to be addressed." Mayla thought to herself, but voicing it out loud, so Smith is aware of her concern. "There are some intricate scenarios we can sim…but that will include us returning to what he's already experienced."

Victoria's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding."

"Those memories are going to haunt him for a much longer time if he doesn't put them to rest." She almost mentioned this was nearly the same problem Thompson was having. A post traumatic reaction incursion from memories that continue to impact daily thoughts and actions will most definitely affect his command responsibilities. She had a few options available to her; break into Klomden's files and read the diagnosis and sessions herself, or include Klomden in with the sim creations. Of course, the latter was better, but the former would be more precise. But another option was to approach the problem herself. What Victoria told her was enough to go by without having to involve Klomden. At some point, she hoped he would open up to her about the nightmares so they could tackle the memories together.

Victoria got closer to the monitor so her face became huge. "Take care you don't damage him."

"I have yet to have done anything to harm him, or you. You know that," Mayla said in a petulant 14-year old voice, but the serious coldness in her eyes spoke an entirely different story. Victoria saw the depth of those light lavender eyes and backed up from the monitor.

"I'll hold you to it. Please take care of him." Her voice came in a slight sob. "I don't want to lose him again."

Mayla leaned back into the couch. "You should really try that Bajoran restaurant, they really make an authentic hasperat."

"Stop trying to distract me!" Smith answered as she regained control of her emotions. "He plans to visit you later today."

"For what?"

"Knowing him, probably to discuss his promotion."

"He's not spending his down time with you?" Vree asked with a tone of concern.

"We have a date later today."

"You should really check out that Bajoran restaurant." Mayla repeated.

"Or perhaps I'll just get pregnant instead."

The Trill immediately looked up from her padds to see a sarcastic smirk spreading across Victoria's face.

"Who's the fresh one now?" Vree countered.

"You should join us."

"On your date, no thanks."

"Afterward. I'm thinking of taking the team out for drinks to celebrate the promotion," Smith offered. "It's on me."

"That's going to be difficult if the entire team takes a shuttle to Earth." She gave it further thought. "You go on ahead, I've got work to do."

"There is always work to do. I know you have that computer interface in your eyes, you can still work while drinking." Smith scolded her.

"I'll see. No promises."

Colonel Jahkar

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.28

"No! No! You are moving too fast. You are too used to moving swift and low, chopping with those 'obmaQ!" Dahar Master Kor blurted out from one side of the holodeck as Jakar stood up from being knocked to the deck by a Klingon warrior who was rolling a kur'leth in one hand with his wrist, giving the Marine side-eye as he waited for their match to resume. "The kur'leth is wielded with more grace and accuracy. The 'obmaQ is an axe…you move in close, strike hard and fast with chopping motions."

Jahkar caught his breath and wiped the sweat away from his brow. He nodded and exhaled sharply before returning to a fighting stance.
"Again!" Jahkar demanded.

Kor, the legendary dahar master who had fought James T. Kirk, who has sought the Sword of Kahless beside Worf, son of Mogh, and who perished at the Battle of Kalandra, facing a squadron of Jem'Hadar vessels in a lone Bird of Prey, nodded and then shouted, "vay!" which was Klingon for "fight."

The big Klingon with a kur'leth sword assumed a two-handed stance and moved at Jahkar, probing his defenses as he circled moving to the right. Jahkar steadied his own kur'leth in a similar stance and watched the holographic Klingon as he studied the Marine, looking for weaknesses in his defense.

"Good," Kor said, a toothy grin visible beneath his long white beard and mustache. "You are compensating for his adaptation to your own defenses. Do not let him find an opening."

The Klingon had already found what he discerned to be a weak spot and he made his move, coming at Jahkar swinging, attempting to get past his blade posed to parry with a swipe to his gut.

Jahkar pivoted his own kur'leth, blocked the incoming blade, then he thrust forward hard, knocking the tenacious warrior backwards. Jahkar used the warrior's momentary loss of balance to execute his own attack, coming at him with an overhead chopping motion.

His kur'leth nearly impacted with the Klingon's head, but the warrior was good and brought the weapon up, holding the main handle and using his other hand to grasp the second grip located near the tip of the main blade. The action successfully blocked the downward stroke from Jahkar's blade, but opened him to a hand-to-hand strike.

Jahkar pivoted slighting to one side, raised his leg and thrust a booted foot into the Klingon's midsection, knocking him backwards and forcing the air out of his lungs.

"Now finish him!" the old dahar master shouted.

Jahkar was already trying to do that, recovering with his kur'leth and rushing at the staggered Klingon, thrusting the tip of his blade at the warrior's chest. Still holding both the kur'leth's grips, the warrior brought the sword down, deflected Jahkar's blade at the floor, then moved in the pivoted an elbow into the side of the Marine's head, sending him reeling toward the floor.

Jahkar landed on one knee, back hunched over, head toward the floor, allowing the Klingon to move up behind him, raise his kur'leth and poise to strike to the back of Jahkar's head and neck.

Unseen by the Klingon, however, Jahkar moved the long portion of the blade so it was pointed behind him and when he sensed the Klingon directly behind him preparing to finish him for the eighth time today, he rammed the blade backwards and directly into the midsection of the Klingon warrior.

The Klingon hologram dematerialized and was gone. Jahkar stood up and heard a roar of satisfaction rise up from Kor.

"Excellent my warrior friend!" the holographic Kor, dahar master of the Klingon Empire declared in a booming voice. "You did it! I knew you could!"
Jahkar exhaled and gave a faint nod, "Still, it was a sloppy win."

"But still a win for you, Jahkar," Kor said. "On the battlefield sometimes the only win you can secure is a sloppy one. What matters is you are alive to fight another day and your foe is not."

The marine picked up his towel from a nearby stool and wiped his brow. "Fighting with a kur'leth is much more difficult than I thought."

"You have spent your fighting career wielding the 'obmaQ and the mek'leth," the Klingon hero explained. "Swords like a kur'leth or bat'leth are a different breed of weapon. You should let me train you in bat'leth combat…have I told you about the time I took down an entire squad of Romulan centurions with just my bat'leth…"

Jahkar shook his head, "I know how to use a bat'leth. I don't use them because they are unwieldy and cumbersome. My mother has suggested a kur'leth for years so I finally decided to try one."

Kor slapped a hand against Jahkar's bicep, "A wise decision. With my help and guidance you can one day become a dahar master, Jahkar."

Jahkar smiled and nodded to Kor, "Computer, save progress and end program."

Kor and the sparring chamber disappeared around him and Jahkar picked up his shirt, his kur'leth and towel then started toward the arch. He'd decided to expand his blade fighting skills during their downtime so he'd settled on learning the kur'leth, a Klingon katana of sorts.

Perhaps training with a dahar master was a bit over the top, but if he was going to learn…why not learn from one of the greatest?

From here he was off to his quarters to take a sonic shower and put on a uniform before checking in to see what the day had in store…

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael

Lieutenant (J.G.) Reepchip Charatetet

Stardate 2303.31

After his talk with McCulloch, Reepchip headed towards his quarters. On his way there, he encountered Commander Carmichael, and quickly snapped to attention.

Carmichael saluted back. "Lieutenant. I need to know something, since now you have someone helping you hone your abilities—and it needs to be something I can report back to Admiral Clancy."

"Sir, what is it, sir?"

"I need assurance that you simply won't take over the Resurrection, using your telepathic powers."

"... would you like a detailed explanation, or the short version, sir?"

"Keep it brief for now."

"It's impossible to control a ship telepathically, sir. There are those who've tried, and we learn about their failures in our first year of training as Shaman-Engineers."

"Is there anywhere I can get more information?"

"Sir, if you contacted the Muransurak Academy, I'm sure they'd be glad to give you more information."

"Excellent. Thank you, Lieutenant, that will be all. Dismissed."

Reepchip saluted and headed for his quarters.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D'Hronarin

Umbra One

Stardate 2303.31

Rygaran walked with Ryramorl through the corridors of Umbra One. The two had been summoned to a meeting with Admiral Ian MacLeod.

The pair of Carnora arrived at the admiral's office and were shown inside by Yeoman Caroline Drake, the admiral's new assistant. In the ready room, they found MacLeod at his desk awaiting the arrival of the two warriors.

"Welcome gentlemen," he said. Normally he'd have guests sit, but the chairs in his office would not accommodate two full-sized Carnora, so they would stand.

"I've asked you here because we're making some changes on the team," MacLeod explained. "There is a second Shadow Ops crew being put together. Commander McCulloch will lead. Thompson is joining him and I'd like to send you, Lt. Commander Ra'yral to the new team.

"Special Agent D'Hronarin, your government has requested you be added to the exchange program and that you be assigned to serve alongside Lt. Charatetet to guide him in his training. You'll also serve as an active member of the Phoenix team under Commander Vree."

He looked to the Carnora to see if either had questions…

"I do, sir," said Ryramorl. "I take it Agent D'Hronarin will be taking the berth I shared with Lieutenant Charatetet on the Resurrection?" In his mind, that would make sense—the two sharing a berth had the effect of making an extra room available.

Rygaran also had one. "Since the spirit of the Resurrection speaks, I'll likely hear it. Is there anything in particular you want me to listen for?"

MacLeod still wasn't sold on the idea the ship, or at least the coaxial drive, was sentient and capable of communication with telepaths. But, for the sake of this conversation, he smiled and looked to Rygaran, "Anything concerning. Let Commander Carmichael know immediately."

Commander William McCulloch and Commander Mayla Vree

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2303.31

After visiting Victoria, Will spent the next several hours reviewing personal and logistical reports for Ghost Squad. After signing off a series of supply requisition requests, the Scot looked at his chronometer and sighed. He stood up from his desk and stretched.

Afterward, he quietly announced, "Computer, locate Commander Vree."

"Commander Vree is in her quarters."

"Of course she is," he announced before adjusting his uniform and exiting his quarters. He wondered which member of Phoenix Team she was spying on today.
McCulloch made his way to Vree's quarters and tapped her door chime. After a brief delay, he heard the Trill announce, "Enter!"

He quickly entered and as expected, he found Mayla head down, reviewing multiple padds and data. She briefly looked up to acknowledge him.

"Commander," she dryly announced.

"Sir," Will answered as he stood at attention before her.

"You do not need to stand at attention before me, Will, or call me ‘sir'. We're equal rank now."

"I'd prefer to call you sir and stand at attention," Will countered as he looked Vree directly. "You are still a senior officer to me, and out of respect to you and whatever role you played in my promotion."

"Is there anything in particular I can assist you with, Commander?"

"I am here merely to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"I want to thank you for this opportunity and more importantly, for your guidance and training while I served under your command. If I become half the leader that you are, I will consider myself quite fortunate."

"Is there anything else, Mr. McCulloch?"

"Yes, sir." the Scot answered as he cleared his throat. "I do not know where your father is or what he is up to, but I am confident that he is proud of who you are and what you do, sir."

Once finished, the Scot looked straight ahead, anticipating another lecture from the Trill.

"At ease, Commander," Mayla said, gesturing to one of the couch seats near her. "Before you break something."

Will kept the stoic and stern face of professionalism while he sat down, but still sitting up straight. He took note of the many padds spread out before her, and the several screens he could now see from this angle that was hovering above the table.

"She told me you were coming. I didn't know it was for a formal declaration of appreciation." Her eyes searched him. "What, no booze?"

Will held his lips tightly together, she was trying to bait him. Of course he figured it out immediately. He nearly smiled at the attempt. "Nice try."

Now Mayla gave him a smile and put down the padd. "I saw Kyril a few months ago, and we talked about you. He is satisfied with your progress to return to the station and loyalty you had before…the incident."

"That's nice to hear." Will said, not knowing what else to say about it. He hadn't seen the Trill in over a decade.

"How do you feel about the reinstatement? Let alone becoming team leader, AND a promotion."

He finally relaxed a little. "Almost overwhelming."

Mayla gave him a hand gesture. "Feel free to start crying. Nobody else here but me."

Another test? "The opportunity for reinstatement was already generous enough, but actually being reinstated, a promotion, and a new team? I'd say they were over doing it, as if trying to make up for something they wronged me for."

Mayla leaned back and folded her arms on her chest. She gave him a slow shake of her head. "Don't think like that. It will make you question their motives."

"Wouldn't you? Didn't your father used to say more than once that paranoia saved the team more times than he can count?"

"He was paraphrasing a book-Catch 22. Being paranoid doesn't mean no one is out to get you."

"Whatever, you get my meaning."

"Just keep your eyes and ears open. And not distracted. Remember that one sim where you got distracted by focusing on someone who you thought was too suspicious, and you let the real threat get by you? Same thing. Try not to slip when something unexpected occurs. Keep a cool head. That's important. Now that you have people under your direct command."

All he did was nod, like he did during their post liyea'tai sim discussions where they heavily analyze the sim that was still fresh in their minds. His insides calmed a bit and he relaxed his posture just a little bit as a familiarity of respectful discussion settled in to him. It was a strange mindset for him, a sort of calmness in his mind that gave his consciousness a soaring feeling like he was connected to the universe.

What the hell? Was he suddenly a yogi?

His thoughts went back to many of the discussions, and most of them were thought provoking to think outside the box, even in relation to his emotions and demeanor. Is this how she does it, even in the face of panic and immediate danger or even death?

"So I should just stop and meditate whenever I get emotional?"

Mayla nearly snorted with a burst of amusement. "For you? That would indeed be a change. We've spent some time with the Vulcans on the holodeck, it's nice to learn something from them." Their sims had included many races and their cultures, and what made them unique in the universe. Not every sim was combat oriented, some had dealt with negotiations, settling violent factions, even a few were almost like first contact. But the most prominent thing was the exposure to the different races that reached out beyond just the Federation members. They had mountains of data from the USS Voyager's 70,000 light year journey home from the Delta Quadrant. Kyril had incorporated them into Bravo Squad's sims as soon as he had access to the ships records. Mayla had been more oriented to the more immediate threats with Phoenix Squad's sims.

"Learning to be a Vulcan is not what I want to be."

"But admit that at certain times, it does help so you can focus on the matter at hand." Mayla picked up a padd with Pickering's profile on it and handed it to him. "Can you give me your impressions of him?"

McCulloch took the padd and studied it silently for several seconds before looking up in surprise.

"Bloody hell, another Pickering?"

Mayla flashed a wide smile. "Another Pickering. Tell me your thoughts."

McCulloch sighed as he again reviewed the personnel report of Captain Owain Pickering, Starfleet Marines. He had only served twice with Owain's cousin, retired Sergeant Major Robert Pickering Jr. The first occasion was during an uncover mission with Taryn Kane's mercenaries. During the operation, McCulloch openly and successfully courted Pickering's then-girlfriend, Jamie Marcus. The second occasion was during the Terran firefight at the Pickering Estate. The Scot briefly shuddered as he quickly suppressed a mental image of Dr. Smith hovering near him.

Will sighed and looked up at Vree. "First, this guy is massive. I think he'll give Ry'ramorl a run for his money. His combat time on the front lines and company-level command history will make him a valuable asset. If you tell him to kick in a door, toss a grenade and execute everyone inside, he'll probably find five different ways to carry out the order, the next more efficient than the previous one. He'll think many of your orders are foolish but he will keep those thoughts to himself rather than openly defy you. His weapon skill sets are impressive and his expertise in long-range surveillance equipment is curious. It tells me he has extensive experience serving in advance posts ahead of his unit."

"But?" Mayla asked knowingly.

"Two concerns."

"Go on."

"First, he's a Pickering. That family sometimes sticks their fingers and noses where they shouldn't be, causing external pressure your new operative doesn't need. I'd be particularly wary of his relationship with this younger sister, Charlotte. It appears they're close and she's of college age. Any drama with a college-aged girl is going to spill over into his life."

"And?"

"Watch him off duty. This report suggests he has no life outside of being a soldier and visiting his family. That tells me he's either socially awkward or privately a deviant. In the long run either could be detrimental to the team or himself. And one other thing."

"Go on," Vree replied as she carefully listened to McCulloch's assessment.

"When off duty for Pete's sake, keep him away from Sh'avelith. She'll eat him alive."

Mayla cocked an eyebrow as she resisted the urge to laugh. "You sound like an over-protective father."

"I don't mean to be but maybe I am." The Scot conceded. Over the past six months, Tiri had become much closer with Victoria and Will, often joining them for dinners and socializing when off duty. There was no way in hell Will would tolerate a marine grunt canoodling with the young Andorian. Besides, Smith was secretly eying a young combat medic on her team to set up with Tiri.

Mayla smiled and chuckled. Will gave her a puzzled look at what was the joke. "The shoe's on the other foot, Commander William McCulloch."

He didn't get it at first. Again, thinking that this was just another one of Mayla's tests or cryptic thinking puzzles. He continued to look at her smirking eyes until she made a double hand gesture towards him telling him she was waiting for him to 'get it'. Then he instantly connected that he was in the same position she was in regards to his courting of Victoria.

He swore out loud and could no longer meet her eyes without a sheepish face. Despite himself, he couldn't help but to start laughing at the turntable of life.

Marine Captain Owain Pickering

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2304.01

Captain Pickering walked with purpose down Umbra Prime's central passageway towards the habitat ring he had been assigned to.

Only two days earlier, he had been on the front lines fighting against some upstart paramilitary organization known as the "Fenris Rangers".

Shortly after the commencement of precision military strikes, his commanding officer unceremoniously pulled him from combat operations and told him that he had been reassigned … immediately … to an unknown black ops team.

The marine quickly gathered his belongings, rolled them into his pack and blanket, and boarded the first available military transport to Umbra Prime.

As he advanced through the station, many crewmen either stopped to stare or scrambled out of his way. Standing 6'4" in height and 230 lbs in weight, Owain was a wall of muscle who easily gave off an air of strength, intelligence, confidence and a bit of a military swagger.

Curiously, despite being dispatched to Umbra Prime thirty-six hours earlier, Pickering was still dressed in his combat armor, equipment and weapons.
His armor was battle-scarred and blackened from the various disruptor hits he had taken over the last six months, while most of his body was covered in dry, caked-on mud from some backwater planet he had sludged through earlier in the week.

His face was still smeared with the greasy remains of camouflage paint.

A security officer nervously greeted the marine as he neared his quarters. Owain instinctively growled before handing a padd to her. Upon reviewing the captain's orders, the officer gestured for him to follow her to his living area.

En route, a marine major assigned to Umbra Prime's security detail stopped the pair and began to inspect Pickering's orders. The New Englander quickly came to attention and stared straight ahead. A cloud of dust hovered around the marine.

"Sir! Captain Owain Pickering, 95th Marine Battalion, reporting as ordered, sir!"

The major studied the captain with raised eyebrows before looking back at the security officer.

"At ease, captain," the major announced. "We'll have your belongings shipped to your quarters as quickly as possible and get you settled in."

"No belongings to move, sir."

"Were your personal belongings lost in transit, Captain?" The major inquired.

"No sir," he replied as he stared directly ahead. "All of my belongings are currently strapped to my back, sir."

The security officer leaned slightly to the right to visually examine the rifle, pack, and blanket roll slung across his back. She then shot a sideways glance at the major.

"Everything is on your back?" The major asked almost incredulously.

"I'm a soldier, sir," He answered. "I don't need anything else."

"Captain, with all due respect, you're filthy and making a mess of my station."

"Yes sir, I am filthy," Pickering replied before looking directly at the major and security officer. "But my weapons are clean."

The marine quickly unslung his rifle, removed the power cell and scope, and handed them to the major for inspection. Afterward, he unholstered his pistol, retrieved his combat knife, and handed them to the security officer.

The major quickly glanced at the weapons. Pickering was correct. The weapons were spotless and appeared as if they had just been issued from the factory.
"Orders, Sirs?" Pickering inquired as he remained at attention.

The major smirked slightly as he returned the weapons to the New Englander. This one was going to score points with Jahkar.

"What are your plans for the evening, Captain?"

"I'm meeting my cousin Sarah for dinner on Earth tonight."

"What time do you report to Commander Vree tomorrow?"

"0600 hours sir!"

"Enjoy your night Captain, it's the last rest you're going to get for some time."

"Sir, thank you sir!"

"Lieutenant," the major ordered as he turned his attention to the security officer. "Escort Captain Pickering to his quarters so he can clean up and spend quality time with his cousin."

"Aye sir." The lieutenant replied. "Captain, please follow me."

Lt. Cody Beckett

Umbra One

Stardate 2304.01

While welding a piece of ablative armor on its place, Cody pondered the past six months.

They had been stuffed with training sims, training sims and more training sims. After four months Daryl joined the sims again. He was eager to prove himself and he did very well.

On top of the sims, Cody had started to practice more krav maga and BJJ, especially against non-human opponents, like Klingons, Nausicans and Jem'Hadar. His skills had increased dramatically, and although he weighed even more than before, his build was now more muscular. He grinned as he thought of Sarah noticing that as well.

In between all the training sessions Cody had volunteered for repair actions onboard of the USS Resurrection. A lot of the bulkheads in the cargo bay needed repairs, as well as a lot of the plasma conduits, coolant pipelines and other fluid transport systems that needed revisions or replacements. During those months he did a lot of welding, both inside as outside.of the USS Resurrection. It was a good distraction from the mostly brutal sims Vree came up with for them. He had heard her father was even worse, as he had been the lead of the legendary Bravo Squad, one of the first SO teams in the field, twenty something years ago. As he thought of it, Daryl had been a part of that team as well. He finished welding the armor plate and moved back so the drone could lay down the next one.

In the first months, when he had the time he visited Daryl on Earth and had long talks with him. Daryl appreciated the visits and the talks, as did Cody. But after two months Daryl was transferred to another location for a specialized mental training on Vulcan.

Cody decided also to dive deeper into hacking and demolitions. These skills would come in handy within the team. After all, it was still unsure if Daryl would return to the Phoenix team. As he finished another plate, he was hailed by the subcoordinator of the fleet yard. His shift was done. He quickly made his way to the airlock.

Within minutes he beamed back to Umbra One.

In about four hours he would go on a date with Sarah, but first he had a training session planned in the holodeck.

A few hours later, Beckett walked out of the holodeck, covered in sweat. It was time for a shower and get ready for his date with Sarah Pickering. As he made his way to his quarters, Daryl caught up with him.

"How's the headache?" Daryl informed him with a grin.

Beckett laughed as he thought back to this morning as he barely could get out of bed after the pub-run they did last evening.

" It's gone"

"You're getting old"

"I should do it more often"

"Fat chance…by the way,.did you see McCulloch ? I actually had expected him back later on yesterday evening."

Cody shrugged and shook his head in the negative. "Nope. Haven't seen him. Have been on the Resurrection all day."

Daryl nodded. "Shall we go again tonight?"

Again, Cody shook his head. "No, not tonight. I go out with Sarah"

"Ok, have fun then"

"I will" Cody said with a grin and entered his quarters, leaving his friend behind.

An hour later he walked on a large boulevard in San Francisco.

Then he caught a glimpse of Sarah, sitting at a table. As she saw him she smiled and waited for him.

Cody grinned. She looked marvelous! He made his way to her table and kissed her. He felt how she hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" He asked while a knot formed in his stomach.

Sarah looked down for a few moments, then looked up. Her eyes crossed his' but immediately looked away again

"Cody, I….I…," she started hesitantly. She exhaled and started again

"I am sorry Cody. But it isn't going to work between us." She said.

Cody froze in his chair. The knot in his stomach tightened as he realized what she just had said.

"What…what do you mean? " He said. He smiled, nervously.

"You're joking, right? Tell me this is a joke". She took his hand in hers.

"You really are a great guy, Cody...But our lives just don't fit together. " She said softly, while shaking her head lightly. Cody studied her face, trying to find answers there.

"I can't live with someone who puts his life on the line on each mission. I was worried sick the time you were away. " She continued.

"I am sorry. I hope we still can…"

That was enough. He didn't need to hear anymore. He pulled his hand back from hers, stood up and left. While his eyes filled up with tears, he tried to make his way off the crowded terrace. As he walked onto the boulevard, people complained and yelled at him as he ran into them as he barely could see anything. While mumbling apologies over and over again, he walked away.

He found himself sitting on the beach, near the shoreline. Tears still poured down from his face, while he kept wondering why this happened, as her last words kept echoing through his mind.

Commander William McCulloch

Commander Victoria Smith

Lt. Commander Darva McGuire

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Umbra One

Stardate 2304.01

"Are you almost ready?" Victoria pressed as she stepped on her heels. "We're meeting the others in ten minutes."

"Plenty of time," McCulloch replied as he casually pulled on a civilian shirt over his head and started to button the front. "You know, with new quarters being assigned to me, we should talk about moving in together."

"No." Victoria coyly answered as she put on her earrings.

"You spend most of your time here anyways, why the resistance?"

"One, my quarters have a better view and two, I'm not moving my stuff to your quarters. It's too nice and you'll damage it doing boy stuff."

Before McCulloch could answer, the door chime to his quarters chirped.

"That's Darva and Daryl." The nurse announced as she skipped towards the door. The Scot watched as she crossed the room and tapped the security pad. Seconds later the door slid open, revealing Lt. Commander McGuire in a short green dress that highlighted all her curves.

"You wore the blue one!" Darva squealed and clapped as she visually inspected Victoria's dress, which was also short, but not as revealing as the security officer's.

McCulloch rolled his eyes as the pair started to whisper and giggle while looking over at him. After a moment the Scot audibly cleared his throat to get the pair's attention.

"Where is Daryl."

"He's coming. He received an incoming message from Cody and took it."

"Are Sarah and Cody coming?" Victoria asked.

"Neither are coming," Thompson announced as he rounded the entranceway and entered McCulloch's quarters.

Will shot a look of confusion at Daryl. "Did he say why?"

Daryl sighed and looked down briefly before answering. "Sarah just broke up with him."

"What?" The scot demanded.

Thompson nodded. "She said she couldn't be with him given his line of work and possibly never coming home."

"Oh hell no," Victoria hissed before spinning around and shooting a cold look at Will. "She's a senior corporate officer at one of the top private intelligence and military contracting firms in the quadrant—and she throws out that bulls\*\*t line?"

"I'm with the nurse," Darva growled.

Daryl shared a look of concern with Will. "Team Red" … what Victoria and Darva called themselves when together was getting fired up and when they did, it didn't typically end well.

"You need to call Shess Ch'taolnos and have him fire that pop tarts bony a\*\*." Smith demanded as she waved a finger at McCulloch. It was the first time in a long time she referred to Sarah Pickering as a "pop tart".

"I am not going to call the acting CEO of Inverness and demand he fire his chief operations officer."

"Give me five minutes and I can have my security team locate Sarah on Earth," Darva interjected. "We could pay her a visit."

"You know that's how I found Will before Sorvek's funeral." Victoria interrupted.

"I always wondered how you found him." McGuire quipped.

"Kicked his ass while the ship's security team watched," Smith boasted before quickly correcting herself. "Sorry, Will."

McCulloch nodded slightly before looking back at Thompson. "Where's Beckett now?

"He's in a bar in San Francisco drinking his sorrows away."

"We need to be with him," Victoria stated to Darva. "He's the boys best friend and he needs company."

"We should bring someone," McGuire suggested.

Victoria's eyes widened with excitement. "Yes! We need to set him up with someone!"

"Here we go," Daryl muttered.

"What about Ensign Gace?" Darva asked. "She seems a bit enamored with Cody."

"She's enamored with every man she meets." Smith countered. "Plus she's almost twenty years younger than Beckett. Too young."

"This is really happening, huh?" Will sarcastically asked as he watched the two women conspire.

"What about Fiadh?" Darva offered.

"You're kidding, right?" Victoria replied. "Do we want to emotionally scar Cody for years to come?"

"What about that science officer assigned to the station?"

"Which one?"

"The one we keep running into on Level 37."

"No," Smith replied nervously. "I've heard she likes fire…too much."

"Maybe one of Daryl's sisters?" Will humorously offered.

The two women stopped talking and shot icy glares at the Scot.

"All right, that's enough." Daryl announced as he quickly ushered the two women out of Will's quarters. "Change of plans. We're going to join Cody. We'll drink to his sorrows."

"We should invite the others from the team so he doesn't feel like the fifth wheel." Smith suggested.

"Yes, call Tiri, Jahkar and the others on the way to the shuttle." Will answered.

Daryl opened a channel to the team. "Team Phoenix, you are all invited to join us in celebrating Commander McCulloch's promotion….and to support our fellow team member Lt. Cody Beckett, who is in dire need of some attention of his buddies. Please join us at your earliest convenience. We will be at the "Final Frontier" in San Francisco. If you want to tag along, our shuttle leaves in 15 minutes from shuttle bay 3. Thompson out"

"Let's go!" Will announced

The party moved on to the shuttle bay and soon they were on their way to Earth.

Commander William McCulloch

Commander Victoria Smith

Lt. Commander Darva McGuire

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lieutenant Cody Beckett

"Final Frontier" Bar, San Francisco, Earth

Stardate 2304.01

As the two couples entered the club, Daryl noticed Cody sitting at the bar. He walked towards Beckett and sat at the barstool next to him.
"Hey buddy. How are you doing?"

Beckett looked at Daryl with red eyes which filled up with tears as he recognized his friend.

"She left me Daryl. She f&€## left me…just like that .." Cody choked in his tears

"I know man…I know .." Daryl put his arm around the New Zealander. At least, he tried, but failed.

"Jeez man, you're too big too hug" Daryl joked.

"What are you doing here.?" Cody sobbed.

"Well, McCulloch needs to brag that he's got promoted to full Commander. So we where actually getting ready to get real drunk on his account. "

Cody looked besides Daryl and saw McCulloch, Victoria and Darva.

McCulloch gave a wry smile as he ordered the first round of drinks

"But when I got your message, we all agreed you shouldn't be alone now. So we're not only celebrating HIS promotion, but also your renewed freedom."

Victoria shot Daryl and disappointed look and pushed him aside.

"That was the lamest peptalk I ever heard" she said.

Darva, immediately behind Victoria, chuckled as she winked at Daryl but walked past him and sat down on the other side of Cody. Both red-headed women proceeded to give Cody their undivided attention and consoled as he explained how Sarah broke up with him. To the casual outside observer, it appeared as if the two women were fawning over the New Zealander.

Daryl reacted quasi insulted

"What?" He asked to no one in particular.

"Shut up and drink, Thompson" McCulloch said, holding up a beer.

"Leave the talking to the ladies"

Daryl grinned and downed the beer in a few gulps while McCulloch nursed his.

As Daryl ordered a second drink, Will gestured for his companion to follow him to single table located in a darkened corner of the bar.

"Sit," The Scot ordered as he pulled back a chair and sat down across from him.

"I was hoping for at least a meal before you seduce me in this darkened corner." Thompson scoffed.

Will looked back at Beckett. Both Darva and Victoria were still with him and were now feeding him whiskey shots in an effort to console him.

"He's in a bad way," McCulloch noted.

"I doubt you want to talk about Cody, Will."

The Scot sighed before turning his attention back to Thompson.

"Daryl, the promotion came with a surprise assignment."

"A what now?"

"I'm heading up a new operative team, Ghost Squad."

Thompson looked at McCulloch in stunned silence before starting to laugh. "You almost had me there Will."

"It's no joke and I'm taking you with me."

"Wh-what?"

"Ryramorl is coming too."

"This … what?"

"There are going to be five of us. The other two will be joining us very soon. In four days we are to be transferred to the USS Yorktown in preparation for our first assignment."

"Darva?" Thompson asked reluctantly as he looked towards Beckett's table.

McCulloch shook his head in the negative. "As far as I know she will be staying on the Resurrection. Vree or Lazarus would know better and I suggest she speak with them…sooner rather than later."

Daryl was silent for a short while. It was quite the surprise to him. On the other hand, it sounded exciting. But leaving Darva behind….and Cody. But apparently this had already been decided on higher pay grade levels. Then he looked at Will.

" Why the heck do you want me on the team?" He asked.

"It has been decided for me," Will answered "But if I could choose, I would've wanted you in the team. You are experienced, and, even more important, you have my back. We've done only two missions together, but I know I can trust you."

Another silence fell. McCulloch cleared his throat and continued.

"Daryl, I want you to be the team's XO. I think you have the necessary skills and talent to serve in a role similar to Jahkar. And I think you would excel in the position."

"What about Ryramorl?"

"He will be my tip of the spear…3IC. I intend to give him greater responsibility when it comes to operational decisions and risk assessment. He will be YOUR right hand man for training, mission prep and situational assessment."

Daryl remained silent, taking all of the information in. The Scot resumed speaking again.

"Thompson, I will have three rules with my team…they're pretty simple and I expect them to be followed religiously," Will announced as he watched Daryl down his second beer. "I expect my team to fight well, fight hard. Second, no one…and I mean no one…gets drunk or does anything stupid without my permission. Third, I expect every member of the team to know the duties and responsibilities of the person above and below them in rank. No exceptions."

Daryl looked at his empty glass before glancing over at Beckett. Cody, who appeared to be visibly upset, was still be attended to by Smith and McGuire.
"Look, if you want to stay on the Resurrection for Darva, I can understand, but I think it would be good for you to have a change in environment."
McCulloch pressed. "Even if that means Darva and you won't see each other much anymore."

Daryl looked at McCulloch."So Victoria is also staying on the Resurrection I assume?

The Scot winced before shaking his head in the negative. "Union XII has been completely restructured. That team is now assigned to Umbra and will divide duties between the Resurrection and Yorktown. I expect Victoria, when she returns to duty, will be splitting her time between Umbra Prime, the Resurrection and the Yorktown."

"So she will still be near you?"

"In all likelihood, yes." Will conceded. "Maybe you should speak with Darva about requesting for a transfer?"

Daryl thought again about the situation, as a waitress, a beautiful Orion woman with short wavy hair put down another beer in front of McCulloch and him. For a moment, he had a deja-vu, as she remembered him of K'Chary. Daryl frowned as he looked after the waitress. McCulloch snapped his fingers a few times in front of Daryl's eyes.

Daryl was pulled out of his musings by it.

"I guess I will talk to Darva about that…don't know…we never discussed the matter as it was never a point if concern." Thompson grinned ."But XO of the team…I guess that's kind of a promotion for me as well."

He held his beer up "To Ghostsquad, To the Yorktown and to you, Commander McCulloch. " He said, then he downed his beer. As he finished his drink, he looked at the entrance of the club. Stepping inside was Sarah Pickering, flanked by a huge Marine.

"Heck. Here comes trouble" Daryl mumbled, as he pushed his elbow in McCulloch's ribs. McCulloch followed Daryl's gaze and cursed out loud.

"Bloody hell," Will announced as he laid eyes on Sarah and her companion who was wearing a marine captain's uniform. Sarah was dressed for the prowl. her outfit revealed too much and left little to the imagination. Then there was her companion. The Scot studied the man for several seconds in silence,
"He's built like a damn brick wall." Daryl exclaimed as he eyed the massive 6'4", 230 pound marine.

"The way that b\*\*tard is built, I think he'd give Ryramorl a run for his money." McCulloch observed. After studying the marine officer for several seconds, the Scot cursed again. "That's a Pickering."

"A what now?"

"I recognize him from my briefing with Vree this afternoon." McCulloch replied over the subvoc. "Captain Owain Pickering. He's got more combat experience than either of us want to know."

Before Thompson could answer, the pair heard the scraping of chairs against the bar's wooden floor. They looked to their left to see Darva and Cody crossing the room and standing before Sarah and Owain Pickering. Seconds later, McGuire was leaning across the table and jabbing her finger at Sarah.
Will scanned about the room for Victoria. After a moment, he located her leaning against the bar counter, removing her shoes and earrings, which meant only one thing …"Team Red" was looking for a fight with Sarah and Owain.

"You have to be kidding me," Will muttered underneath his breath as Owain rose from his chair and stepped towards a very intoxicated Cody. The Scot quickly turned to Daryl. "Well XO, you have your first assignment. You stop Victoria from doing something stupid, I'll reign in Darva and Cody. Get my better half to calm the \*\*\*\* down and then immediately watch my six.

"Why am I watching Victoria?" Daryl demanded.

"Because I intend to hit on your Scottish lass after I diffuse the situation," Will retorted as he rose from his chair.

"That's not cool Will!" Thompson called after him. "I can hit on Victoria just as easily and there's nothing you can do!"

"You won't," Will announced as he started to cross the room.

Daryl cursed and got up to make sure Victoria would not join the fray and make things worse. The last thing they could use now is another bar brawl.
Within seconds he stood before Victoria.

She frowned, then her eyes narrowed. "Move aside Daryl. I need to help Darva and Cody. And you should too! He is your best friend and…!"

"Zip it, Victoria" Daryl said. He intentionally didn't call her commander as she might pull rank. Quickly, Daryl continued, before Victoria could say something. "Will doesn't need a bar brawl so his promotion can be retracted in the same day he earned it. Guess you don't want to be the one who has to explain that to Will, do you ?"

Smith's eyes spat fire, her jaw muscle twitched, but she did realize this could harm McCulloch in a lot of ways. Then she relaxed, and Daryl exhaled.
"Good. Now sit down, I'm going there to make sure Will has some back up in case that humongous Marine decides to try something. Can I trust you will stay here?" He asked Victoria.

She sighed. "Yes, ok. I'll be nice and stay here."

"Good! " Daryl replied, and moved towards McCulloch…

As McCulloch rapidly closed on the Pickerings' table, his voice boomed as he barked at the competing parties.

"YOU! Marine!!" The Scot announced as he pointed directly at Owain. "I am the ranking officer on site. You will step the hell away from Lt. Beckett and Lt. Commander McGuire NOW or I will drop you where I stand."

"Oh, you're in trouble now!" Beckett taunted as he stepped towards Sarah's cousin.

"Give me five minutes with this pop tart, Will" McGuire demanded as she leaned further across the table towards Sarah, who was visibly shaking.
"Lt. Commander McGuire and Lieutenant Beckett, stand down NOW or I will have you arrested."

"You'll what??" McGuire answered, looking back at McCulloch in anger.

Will stepped closed on the Resurrection's chief of security and quietly whispered in her ear. He couldn't believe he sounded like Vree as he discreetly dressed her down. He finished his reprimand just loud enough so the others nearby could hear the gist of what he said."You will join Commander Smith now before you do something stupid. Go Darva."

Beckett scoffed momentarily before Will seized him by the scruff, spun him around and pushed him towards Thompson. Thompson quickly guided Beckett towards the table Victoria and Darva were sitting at, planted Beckett in between them,

He quickly ordered another round of drinks.from them and walked back once more to McCulloch…

With Daryl approaching, he returned his attention towards the marine captain. The beast had to have at least 3 inches of height and probably 30 pounds on the Scot. As the pair glared at each other, the Pickering growled and closed towards McCulloch.

"Please, do something stupid." The Scot warned. "You and I both know you don't want to strike a superior officer before your first meeting with Commander Vree. But let's assume you do hit me… rest assured when I am done with you, I will tell anyone who will listen how I made you my personal plaything."

"You have no idea who I am," Owain replied with a growl. "Perhaps we should take this outside so I can teach you some manners."

"Dear God," McCulloch quickly replied. "I hate that New England accent of yours. Seriously, how do you and your people successfully communicate with each other?"

"I heard that!" Victoria yelled from across the room.

Pickering looked past McCulloch and eyed Victoria. "Let me guess, the mouthy little redhead with the Maine accent is yours?"

Will shook his head in disappointment. He wasn't going to take the bait.

"I'm going to properly beat the snot out of you, where you stand," McCulloch coldly answered without taking his eyes off the marine. "But before I do, Sarah do you care to inform your idiot cousin of my rank?"

"You know this a\*\*?" Owain demanded.

"Shut up!" Sarah warned. "He's a Lieutenant Commander."

"He's a Commander." Daryl corrected as he eyed Owain coldly "Tread carefully marine."

Owain sighed in frustration before coming to attention. "Sorry, sir. I did not recognize you properly."

"Name, rank!" McCulloch demanded quietly.

Pickering stared straight ahead. "Captain Owain Pickering, 95th Marine Battalion, sir."

"You just tried to pick a fight with at least two superior officers marine." The Scot whispered low enough so only Owain, Sarah and Thompson could hear him. "That's gets you a court martial. Do we need to go down that road, son?"

"No sir."

"I suggest you pack your sh\*t and find another bar to spend your pay, before I change my mind and tell Commander Vree what just happened."

Will eyed the marine warily before turning his attention towards Sarah. "And…you. Of all the bars you could have picked, you choose Cody's favorite establishment. Take the brick wall and get the hell out of here NOW, before I reach out to Inverness' CEO and have you bloody fired immediately. You embarrassed the firm with your little stunt tonight."

Sarah nervously stood up and looked about the room. Her eyes locked shortly on Cody's, who now felt strengthened with his whole team around him. She quickly looked away.

"Owain, we should go."

"Dismissed captain." Will loudly announced as he casually waved Pickering off and turned his attention back to Thompson. After taking a moment to calm down, the Scot gestured to a table towards the back of the bar.

"Tell Darva, Victoria and Cody to sit their bahookies down at that table. Order drinks and appetizers and keep them occupied until they calm down."
Will watched as Thompson set to work. Moments later as he approached the table, Jahkar entered the bar.

The Scot audibly groaned as one of his former superior officers approached.

Why was command so hard??!!?? He asked himself as Darva and Victoria ordered another round of drinks for Cody in an effort to calm the situation.

Colonel Jahkar

Final Frontier, San Francisco

Stardate 2304.02

Jahkar stepped off a maglev train about a block from the Final Frontier and walked the stretch of city street from the Valencia Street station through the Mission District. The marine was dressed casually in black fatigue pants, boots, a black form-fitting shirt and brown leather jacket. His long hair was down, opposed to his usual ponytail.

He strolled through the city and found it to be filled with so many sights and sounds, so many people moving about. After spending so much time at Umbra Prime and at Starfleet Academy visiting Kedanya, Jahkar found it hard to adjust to being around so many people.

Arriving at the bar, he stepped in off the street through the sliding doors into the dimly lit club, filled with flashing lights, music Jahkar could not identify and people….lot of people talking, drinking and dancing.

Jahkar spied "the party" – McCulloch, Thompson, Smith, McGuire and Beckett – gathered at a table where there were signs of serious drinking going on, as well as what appeared to be some serious conversation.

Walking up, Jahkar stood across the table from William McCulloch and folded his arms across his chest, "So, someone decided to make you a commander and gave you your own team? How did you pull that off?"

Commander William McCulloch

Colonel Jahkar

San Francisco, Final Frontier

Stardate 2304.02

"I'd like to think it was my good looks and charm," Will answered as he signalled to the bartender to bring the marine a drink. "Or perhaps I offered to disclose where you've been hiding your booze, cigars, and personal weapons collection for the past six months."

"Well, we certainly know it wasn't your good looks," Jahkar countered as he took his drink from the bartender and clinked glasses with the Scot. "And you'll never find my stash."

"We still need to compare collections Jahkar," McCulloch offered.

"I'd like that," The marine replied. "Let's plan to get together sooner rather than later."

"Daryl is going to be my 2IC." Will announced changing the subject. "I'd like him to meet with you so you could give him some best practices to succeed in the role."

"You're already starting to sound like Commander Vree."

McCulloch scoffed at the suggestion. "I'd like to think I'm cooler and far more subtle."

Jahkar simply stared at the commander before bursting out laughing.

After he'd had a good laugh, Jahkar took his drink – some Earth alcohol McCulloch was drinking – and downed it before glancing over at Tiri. He started to turn back toward the others, but his head swiveled for a double-take.

The Andorian looked amazing. He forced himself not to gawk as she went over and started talking to McGuire and Smith, not even looking his way. The lack of even a smile or a wave stung as Jahkar turned back to his drink.

"Waitress!" he called as a young woman carrying a tray approached with a smile. "Chech'tluth, if you have some."

The young brunette looked shocked, "We do, but it's potent stuff."

Jahkar smiled, "It should be. The Klingon pronunciation is ‘joq tlutlh' – ‘joq' meaning ‘be bold' and ‘tlhutlh' meaning ‘to drink'."

The waitress laughed, then said with a hint of sarcasm, "That's really interesting. I was really looking forward to a lesson in Klingon tonight. One chech'tluth, coming up."

After the waitress was gone, Jahkar turned back to the others. This was going to be a long night…

"You're kidding me right?" Will replied as he looked back at the waitress as she walked away. "You're just going to sit here and sigh while she flirts with you? Get in there and work your magic."

"I'm surprised you'd say that, given how tight Tiri has become with Victoria...and you."

"I'm not dead Jahkar and neither are you," Will countered. "You shouldn't squander opportunities or wallow in the past. If you're ready to move on, do it."

"But look at her!" Jahkar replied as he gestured towards Tiri.

McCulloch looked about the general area for Sh'avelith but initially didn't see her. When he did, his jaw dropped.

"Oh hell no." Will grumbled as he saw the outfit the Andorian was wearing.

Wait … When the hell did he become the "dad" of the Resurection's younger crew members?? He asked himself while ordering Jahkar stop oogling the Andorian.

"William McCulloch, mind your own business," Victoria called across the table after overhearing the Scot's muttering.

Seconds later, she and Darva let out a "woo" as they waved Tiri to sit next to the pair and join them for a round of random but potent Andorian drinks. Smith clapped excitedly as Tiri sat down next to her.

"Yeah, no." McCulloch announced as turned his attention back towards Jahkar. "Let's just get you drunk and see where the chips land in the female companion department."

Lt. Tiri Sh'avelith

San Francisco, Final Frontier

Stardate 2304.02

Tiri Sh'avelith arrived at the club and adjusted her hair and outfit as she started through the door. The Andorian was running late, having taken way more time than she should have picking out an outfit for the evening.

She'd settled on a tight silver mini-dress with thin shoulder straps, heels and she'd even put on makeup and put some curl in her hair. The medic needed a fun night out after the rigorous medical training with Union XII these past months.

Of course, she knew Jahkar would be here. It was confirmed when she walked in and spotted him at the table talking to McCulloch. At least he appeared to be alone, that was good. Not that he had the time to date, with his busy schedule and high standards placed on potential love interests.

"Behave yourself tonight, Tiri," she told herself and she sauntered across the room, waiting for the inevitable harassment she was going to take from the others over her dress. She put on a smile and secretly hoped Jahkar's mouth would visibly drop open when he saw her.

Commander William McCulloch

San Francisco, Final Frontier

Stardate 2304.02

Cody had just finished downing yet another Andorian drink and had started to talking to the heating unit directly next to him.
McCulloch and Jahkar could only watch with mild amusement.

"Should I take him for a walk?" Thompson asked.

"I think we should find him a companion." Will proposed. "Daryl, what about …"

"If you tell me to offer up one of my sisters I will punch you."

"Nah, let's get him properly drunk before we turn him over to Vree." Jahkar countered. "He's going to vomit all over her training sim."

"Hey commander!" Tiri yelled from the adjacent table. She was still seated next to Victoria and resting her right elbow on the nurse's shoulder. Darva, who sat on the opposite side, leaned into the pair

"Come and get your bloody pips from your woman!" McGuire ordered as Victoria flashed a smile, revealing the Scot's new pips held in her front teeth.
"Wow," Thompson announced before letting out a low whistle. "It's always the quiet ones."

"How the hell did she get your pips?" Jahkar smirked.

"She's going to bloody choke on it," McCulloch stammered as Smith winked at him.

"That's your assessment?" Jahkar replied incredulously as he started to push the Scot out of his seat. "Will, I'll gladly retrieve those pips from her if you won't."

As McCulloch rose out of his chair and started towards the adjoining table, Jahkar and Thompson started clapping and hollering. Victoria gestured with her hands for the Scot to come closer. Once within reach, she reached across the table, seized him by his shirt and pulled him towards her. When he was finally able to pull away and stand back up, Will spit out the pips and held up them up in the air. The bar burst into a roar of laughter and cheering.

"That was so gross," Tiri protested as she started to laugh. "I mean it seemed like a good idea at the time, but after having a front row seat, ewww."

Special Agent Rygaran D'Hronarin

Lieutenant Commander Ryramorl Ra'yral

Lieutenant (J.G.) Reepchip Charatetet

Yagkzhar Toromor Ra'yral

San Francisco, Earth

Stardate 2304.02

Upon receiving the summons, Ryramorl, Reepchip, and Rygaran decided to join the team. The three were dressed in their traditional clothes (both Ryramorl and Rygaran's outfits left their arms bare and showed off a good deal of their torsos.) Before they beamed down, Rygaran got a communique from the Carnora Ambassador Ryramorl Yarman Delta Ra'yral, asking if they could take his son Yagkzhar around San Francisco while the Ambassador himself dealt with some business with the Ferengi ambassador.

The three agreed it would be fine, and Reepchip scampered off to their quarters to get a special earpiece.

It wasn't hard to find Yagkzhar when they arrived on earth—one, everyone in the station was trying—and failing—not to gawk and two, Yagkzhar was not an Olvern but a Usarin, the largest of all the Land Carnora. Nearby stood Ryramorl Yarman Delta Ra'yral, who was relieved to see Commander Ryramorl La'an Ra'yral with Rygaran. The massive Usarin bared his throat to Commander Ra'yral, who reached up to lay the back of his palm on the Usarin's muzzle.

"Good to see you, Yagkzhar, Ryramorl Yarman Delta," said the Commander.

"Good to see you too," said the Ambassador. "I didn't expect you here. I was hoping Rygaran could entertain him for a bit, because, well, the Ferengi are nervous enough around me, he'd be absolutely terrified of Yagkzhar."

Ryramorl looked up at his huge tribesmate. "I can imagine." He said to Yagkzhar, "We'll introduce you to the Hunters I travel with."

For much of the trip, Yagkzhar had to go on all fours (a common thing to do for Usarins, anyways) to fit through doorways, while Reepchip rode on Rygaran's shoulders, since the two would be working together so much in the future.

As they entered the doorway, they saw a woman that Ryramorl and Rygaran recognized from Sorvek's funeral and a big man in Marine fatigues coming towards them. Yagkzhar stood up to get a better view of the place, being careful not to hit his head on the ceiling. Meanwhile, Ryramorl scanned the room and saw his new Commanding Officer looking around, and giving glances towards the woman and marine—then virtually everyone on his team do a double-take at the four Carnora who'd just entered. It was one thing for Reepchip to look tiny in comparison to others around him; he was tiny. But to see Ryramorl dwarfed by his companion was quite something else, and yet here he was looking fun-sized beside an absolute monster who had to be at least 9 feet tall, built like a tank, and looked like the result of a one night stand between a gorilla and a bear that left the No-Tell Motel in ruins.

And yet, their postures showed Ryramorl far outranked whoever this giant was.

Ryramorl walked towards Commander McCulloch with a swagger in his step that McCulloch hadn't seen before, but didn't seem faked. Rygaran had a similar swagger in his step, the huge guy did not.

Ryramorl and Rygaran came to McCulloch and saluted. "Sir," they chorused

"At ease, Commander, Agent."

The two relaxed. "So," said Ryramorl. "I hear I'm under your command, now."

"You are. You think you're ready for Ghost Squad?"

"I will do my best, sir," said Ryramorl.

Commander McCulloch decided to try and joke with the big Olvern. "Your ‘best'? Losers always whine about ‘their best'. Winners go home and f\*\*\* the prom queen."

Ryramorl's face didn't change one whit. "Ry'ala'ara was the prom queen, sir."

He then introduced his new CO to Rygaran, explaining that Rygaran was a telepath, and would be his replacement on Phoenix Squad, since Reepchip needed better training.

Rygaran saluted McCulloch with what had to be the Carnora salute, then greeted Jahkar. "Been way too long," he said.

"And this big fellow, here?" asked McCulloch

"This is Yagkzhar Toromor Ra'yral. I figured we could train him to fill the same role as Reepchip does on Phoenix Squad." His ability to keep a straight face was forever a blessing. He then smiled. "Nay, he is the adopted son of the Carnora Ambassador, Holder Ryramorl Yarman Delta Ra'yral. He's with us because the Ambassador is doing some business with the Ferengi Ambassador and Yagkzhar makes him nervous for some reason." He turned to Yagkzhar and spoke in his own language: [This man is my new Huntsmaster for the Long Hunt I'm on.]

Yagkzhar saluted Commander McCulloch, though in the Carnora fashion. "Hurghh… Hurgghhhreeeedinzh, hhh'zh– hh'zh–hhzhir," the Usarin forced out.
Ryramorl smiled. [Not bad for someone with no training. But they do have tech that will automatically translate what you say—even if you mongrels totally mangle the language.] He gave the big guy a friendly punch on the chest. He then turned to Commander McCulloch. "Yagkzhar tried to say, ‘Greetings, sir.'"

Will slightly bowed and nodded in appreciation. Afterward he looked at Yagkzhar and said "Bah weep granah weep nini bong."

"Bah weep granah weep nini bong?" Ryramorl asked in confusion.

""Bah weep granah weep nini bong." McCulloch repeated.

"What the hell are you saying?" Jahkar asked as he leaned towards the Scot.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I picked it up from some 20th century Earth animated movie."

Ryramorl and Reepchip glanced at each other. If Commander McCulloch was going to play such games, so would they.

Ryramorl decided to go first. "I respectfully request you never again use such a greeting with us, sir. The Carnora find the thought of mechanical men… disturbing."

Reepchip, however, had another plan. He diffused the situation by explaining why Ryramorl had called Yagkzhar a "mongrel"—in his own language, letting the Universal Translator do the work. [I hope you do not take offense to the term Mongrel, Colonel Jahkar, sir. It is a reference to the fact that, like you, Yagzhar Toromor Ra'yral is of mixed heritage—only those with an appreciable amount of Ataran blood would have webbing on their handpaws, only Olvern would have the tusks and the fluffy tail—though the length of the tail is also from the Ataran. Atarans are, after all, semi-aquatic. They'd be EVERYWHERE throughout space since they're nomadic, except most of them prefer a more primitive lifestyle. And, of course, the size and bulk come from the fact that he's mostly Usarin—you thought Joshagk was big, Commander William McCulloch? This is how big they get when they're full-grown, though I think his Olvern and Ataran heritage has cost him a few inches. Yagkzhar is counted amongst the Ra'yral because after the kJem'hadar invasion, he was adopted into the tribe. Ambassador First Name Ryramorl in the Yarman Delta Tribe of Ra'yral cannot have children of his own, so he adopted Yagkzhar. Actually, most crosses between Olvern, Ataran, and Usarins are sterile, but one in about 500-1000 are fertile, and over the millenia that's added up to the Coastals, and sterility is less of a problem amongst them, but if he were say, to breed with someone who was mostly Ataran or Olvern, the likelihood of him having grandkids is still low, so hopefully he can find a nice Usarin girlfriend. Oh, I forgot to explain, ‘Coastals' is the general term for someone of mixed breed, because interbreeding usually happens around the coasts, where the land-based Olverns and the sea-based Atarans mingle. Usarin Coastals are actually kind of rare, but that's the case with all Usarins, mixed or not. Did you know that of the major OverTribes, the Ra'yral are actually one of the few who welcome the Coastals? Probably due to the fact that the Coastals helped them out in the invasion. I don't know what Chief of Chieftains Holder of the name Myaral in all the tribes of Ra'yral will do when Yagkzhar finds a mate—whether he'll establish a new tribe, or join the lady into the Yarman Delta tribe, or what. Oh, and never ask a Coastal to sing ‘Bastards of Land and Sea' in a pub; we'd get banned for the rest of our lives.] Somehow, he said all that in about 20 seconds.

Rygaran was trying not to laugh his ass off as Reepchip showed off how fast he actually talked when he wasn't being slowed down by Federation Standard phonemes.

McCulloch sighed and struggled not to laugh. Eventually he cracked a smile and began to chuckle loudly.

"Did you follow anything he said?" Daryl pressed.

"I did," McCulloch lied.

"You did?" Jahkar asked incredulously.

"I did." Will repeated before standing up and clearing his throat to make an announcement. Once everyone around him fell silent, the Scot spoke.
"Everyone, Reepchip has just informed me that he is buying the next two rounds and he insists that we each order something expensive."

The two tables erupted in cheers.

"Thank you Lieutenant for your generosity," Will stated with a curt nod before winking at the Muran.

All three of the bigger Carnora had a good laugh while Reepchip's ears went flat. Ryramorl grinned broadly. "You know… being of a Royal house and being a good friend of the OverKing gives me access to some very nice drinks."

Reepchip cringed in dismay as he thought of the liqueurs Ryramorl knew. Meanwhile, Ryramorl knew full well the bar wasn't going to have what he was about to ask for. "Domhoran Raglarran Wine," said Ryramorl, and Reepchip gave a despairing whimper.

"Oh, Agavan's balls, have SOME mercy on the poor guy!" said Rygaran, as Yagkzhar gave Ryramorl a stunned look. "That stuff's fifteen bricks a bottle!"
Rygaran turned to Commander McCulloch. "Not bars. Bricks. And that's in the Carnora Pentarchy, not even the Lords of Wisdom know what the import duties are! You choose something less expensive or I swear I'm gonna bounce your head off every wall in Umbra Prime!"

Ryramorl laughed and asked Ranjaro Ale instead, which the bar had, but you had to be a Carnora to order it..

Rygaran, meanwhile, had some cheaper drinks he wanted. The waitress shot Will an look of pure fury as she had to explain that, no, she didn't have Arroinmar Seedwater, nor did they have Seven Rivers Watergrass Beer, nor Deepwater Weed Wine, nor, nor, nor. "You f\*\*\*ing bastard," she mouthed towards Will thanks to the opening he gave this jokester.

Meanwhile, Ryramorl looked like he was going be sick. [You rockf\*\*\*ers and your swill,] he snarled at Rygaran.

[Ah, all the grass you eat makes your guts weak and tender,] joked back Rygaran. [You guys should learn to brew some real booze!]

Meanwhile, Yagkshar asked if they had Spirits of the Nahran. The bar did, as it was a favourite of some Atarans who came here.

Reepchip, however, saw a chance for some revenge. "The Commander here," he said, gesturing to McCulloch, "will have the same." Ryramorl and Rygaran looked at each other, and ordered the same, going along with the scheming little Muran, and insisting that McCulloch join them in the drink.

The drinks arrived. Ryramorl, Reepchip, Rygaran, and Yagkzhar all raised a toast with McCulloch, and the five downed their drinks. And that's when McCulloch discovered Atarans brewed their drinks using ocean water.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

The Final Frontier, San Francisco

Stardate 2304.04

As soon as the Pickerings had left, the commotion subsided, but the drinking game continued. Cody was almost out and Victoria challenged Will to come get his Commander pips which she held between her teeth. Daryl hollered and clapped together with Jahkar. It grabbed the attention of a lot of people around who started hollering along. As McCulloch 'conquered' his pips, the crowd went wild!

Tiri, who sat next to Victoria grossed out. Daryl grinned broadly.

Daryl ordered another round of drinks. He probably would regret it tomorrow, but what the heck.

Then, 4 Carnora entered. Reepchip, Ryramorl, the newcomer Rygaran and another one he hadn't seen before but was so big, he dwarfed Ryramorl. As the Carnora moved to McCulloch, Daryl walked towards Darva and sat down beside her.

"Hey sweetie" Darva slurred and kissed him on the cheek "Are you enjoying yourself?" She asked.

Daryl grinned and nodded. Then his face became serious again. "I don't want to spoil the evening, but I need to tell you something. "

Darva looked at him with an amused look. "You mean that you will become XO in the new team Will is going to lead??" For a moment, Thompson was flabbergasted.

"How…." He started, then he saw Victoria wink at him

"Oh, I see…but..but" he stammered.

"It's all ok, love" Darva answered.

Daryl didn't understand,..he had expected Darva would be sad, or angry, or both. Again, she was ahead of him.

"I already requested a transfer to the Yorktown. Lazarus also granted the request. "

"Team Red!!!" Victoria exclaimed.

Both women toasted and downed their drinks, then slamming the glasses on the table. Taking another one from the tray. Daryl grinned, as he realized everything was already settled. He never thought Lazarus would find it ok to grant the request. This would be an awesome trip. He leaned back, relaxed, and took a sip of his beer.

Colonel Jahkar

The Final Frontier, San Francisco

Stardate 2304.05

Jahkar stopped after three drinks. He was feeling the effects of the alcohol and found himself wanting to lead the group in song. If these were Klingons it would be expected, saluting a comrade who was just promoted and leaving for a new assignment. But here, singing the Klingon victory song would be most inappropriate.

He found himself distracted, seeing Tiri here, dressed the way she was. Jahkar was questioning his decision to keep their relationship platonic. The marine was also on to McCulloch. The Scot kept urging him to flirt with the waitress, but he suspected Will and Victoria had sort of adopted Tiri as a daughter-figure, which made him think they merely wanted to keep him and the lieutenant apart.

After the third or fourth time of trying to make eye contact with the Andorian, to no avail, Jahkar finished his drink and stood up. He slapped Will on the back and leaned close. "Congratulations, my friend. I'm heading back to the station. We'll miss you on Phoenix."

The half-Klingon-Romulan then turned and headed for the door.

Lt. Tiri Sh'avelith

The Final Frontier, San Francisco

Stardate 2304.06

Tiri looked up and watched as Jahkar disappeared out the door of the bar and was gone. She'd caught him looking her way a few times during the evening, but he made no effort to come over and talk to her. Probably for the best…if they weren't going to be together probably best to keep the relationship more distant.

She had a good time but wanted to get back to the station soon. The Andorian didn't want to walk back to the monorail train alone, so she decided to wait and leave with McCulloch and Smith.

For a moment she thought about asking Commander Vree for a transfer out of Phoenix and over to Ghost Squad, but she figured command wouldn't want another member of the team to depart. She also concluded they didn't ask her to join McCulloch's squad because they didn't have a place for her there.

Tiri would have felt more at home and comfortable with Will and Victoria, as well as Daryl and Ryramorl. She'd have to make do with the arrangement and hoped she and Jahkar would be able to reach a level of comfort where they weren't walking on eggshells around each other.

Resolved to stay put for now, she called for the waitress to bring her another drink and hunkered down for the long haul at the party.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2304.06

"You're kidding me, right?" MacLeod asked, looking up at Quentin Lazarus from behind his desk. The captain of the USS Resurrection stood at attention, looking straight ahead as the admiral read the PADD he'd just been handed.

"No, sir," Lazarus said. "I'm completely serious."

MacLeod set the PADD down and sighed, "You've had six months of downtime, but have refused to take any shore leave…other than that weekend you took to San Francisco that ended with me bailing you out after you got yourself into a bar fight."

"Sorry about that," Lazarus said.

"Now you want to take leave when we're ready to start a mission," MacLeod muttered. "And that's after you've run your first officer out of Shadow Operations."

Lazarus restrained himself from an eyeroll, "You know he had a lot to say about you before he left. He said you were stubborn, reckless, undisciplined, unorthodox and…sneaky."

"Sneaky?" the captain said. "That's offensive. I can't say I'll miss that guy."

"Dammit, Quentin!" McLeod barked. "Sornax was a good XO."

"He would have done well on a standard Starfleet vessel," Lazarus said. "He's not Starfleet Intelligence material…he's not Shadow Operations."

MacLeod gave a soft groan and leaned back in his chair, "In case you haven't noticed, there aren't a lot of Shadow Ops ship commanders around these days. We must work with what we have and mold them. You butted heads with him so much this last mission, he was simply done."

Lazarus shrugged, "Good riddance."

MacLeod looked at him sternly and then looked down, pressing his thumb against the screen of the PADD. "Approved. You need some time off. Frankly, your attitude since Resurrection came back from the Mirror Universe has been terrible. You're going to find your daughter finally, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said.

"Good. Go. Find her and work this thing out that's troubling you," MacLeod said gruffly, waving a dismissing hand in the air. "Get it out of your system and don't come back until you make peace with yourself. Understood?"

Lazarus nodded, "Understood."

"No, Quentin, I really mean it," MacLeod said seriously. "If you can't make peace over your daughter and you come back here with this attitude you've been displaying, you might as well not come back. You can submit your retirement papers instead. Got it?"

"No problem, sir," Lazarus said.

"Stop with the formalities," MacLeod said. "It's me…it's us. We've known each other too long."

Lazarus put himself at ease and looked down at the admiral sitting behind his desk, "Sorry, Ian. I just need to nip this in the bud. I can't sleep. I'm constantly on edge. I need to go see her and tell her I'm alive…that she's my daughter."

"Then go," MacLeod told him. "I've got this upcoming mission. If the new XO can't handle it, I'll go instead."

"You'll go?" Lazarus asked, surprised.

"There will be a ship provided for the mission," he said. "I'll command it if the new XO is not able. I'm told she's quite capable, but we'll see."
"She?" Lazarus asked.

MacLeod rolled his eyes, "You didn't read the dossier on her? I sent it to you a week ago."

"Sorry," Lazarus said, his eyes lowered.

"Commander Alki," the admiral said. "She Deltan. Coming to us from Starfleet Intelligence, spent a number of years assigned to Romulan space dealing with warlords and terrorist factions."

Lazarus smirked, "You're putting a Deltan on the ship? You'll have the whole male…maybe some of the females…crew up in arms."

"Her Vow of Celibacy is in order," MacLeod said, flushed slightly as he now considered the implications of the Deltan first officer. "She is also prepared to use pheromone inhibitors if necessary…but apparently isn't fond of either precaution."

Lazarus frowned, "Isn't fond of the vow or the inhibitors? Oh, this is going to be fun."

"She's opinionated," MacLeod sighed. "Don't worry about it, we'll have everything worked out by the time you return. It's not your problem."

The captain shook his head, "Well, that's good to know. Fine, good luck with everything."

"Get out of here," MacLeod waved him on. "Find your daughter."

Lazarus nodded, "Tell McCulloch, McGuire, Thompson and Ryramorl goodbye. I'll see them around Umbra Prime, I'm sure."

The admiral nodded and with that, Lazarus turned and left. A short time later, he was aboard a runabout loaned to him by MacLeod, on his way to find the daughter he thought he'd lost so many years before.

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