Episode 3.2.9: Requiem

## S3, E2, Act 1: The Child

Commander Mayla Vree

Bridge, *IKS Rotarran II*

Stardate 2012.16

Mayla stepped back onto the bridge of the Chancellor's flagship and took a deep cleansing breath to clear her system of the battle. Jack Dark was neutralized, and a catastrophe was averted. Her thoughts went back to the message he relayed to Shadow Ops through Sirella. His attitude was similar to a former Bravo Squad member who also lost faith in the organization he had dedicated his life to. Even Thompson was shocked at the demise of K'guang Zhou at the hands of Jahkar. And now Jahkar had a hand in destroying another former Shadow operative.

She stepped aside as a Klingon hurried towards the door of the Chancellor's private office with a report in his hand. With a few slow steps, she slid into a strategic shadowy corner where she could still see most of the display monitors. In her eyes, she saw the several messages from the *Resurrection* about someone she didn't expect to hear about. William McCulloch was on board, requesting to be delivered to Admiral MacLeod. Her thoughts turned dark at the name and wondered why he wasn’t still in prison. She didn't have personal memories of him, but she retained all of Ky's memories of the events. She knew McCulloch's betrayal hurt Ky deeply, even for one with several lifetimes of memories and experiences. She knew all of the feelings he felt, even when Kindred Dakota was close to death from near fatal gutting by Black Watch.

The trill was ignored by everyone on the bridge; just an invisible part of the wall as she stood nearly motionless in the deep shadows of the bridge. But in her eyes, she was reviewing the damage and casualty reports from the Resurrection. She reviewed the doctor's prognosis for the wounded Phoenix team members. She read each one carefully, especially the one about Ra'yral.

Then she accessed everything she could on McCulloch's file, even going back to review the mission that took Bravo Squad to Draconis IV. And their encounter with the Black Watch. She reread all of the reports again, even accessing some of Sorvek's personal reports she suddenly had access to.

"One, Leader. Is your assignment there over with?" Lazarus asked over her subvocal.

"Martok's waiting for the *T'Yau* to return with Lady Sirella so they can decide what to do with the baby. Whatever they decide, we and the *Fearless* at Ty'Gokor are to withdraw immediately from Klingon space afterwards."

"That sounds ungrateful of him."

"He's also not going to start an inquiry on the destruction of the dreadnought."

"It was an accident."

"Not an accident enough to dissuade his suspicions despite my advice that the ship be destroyed along with any of Dark's nanites infecting the ship," she said. Maybe during the battle, she subconsciously looked away from the monitors and allowed the fighters to continue the bombardment even though the deflector dish shields went down. "So what did McCulloch want?"

"He's requested to be taken to Admiral MacLeod. He claims he has information about Jack Dark."

Mayla remained silent for a few moments. "Don't trust him."

"I don't. But we'll see what he has to say. Dark's infiltration throughout the upper echelons of multiple empires is alarming. We need any intelligence we can get to correct whatever he's done. Even if it's from a civilian source."

"It might take years to recover from this."

"It might."

"If Martok gives us the baby, what are we going to do with it?" Mayla asked.

"It will be taken to an undisclosed research facility to be thoroughly tested and-"

"Wait a minute," Mayla interrupted alarmingly. "I assured Martok we would treat it like we would any sentient lifeform compared to the type of prejudiced life it will have on a Klingon world."

She could almost hear Lazarus shake his head. "Who knows what that child will be capable of? It could be a resurrected version of Jack Dark to continue to carry out this Reckoning."

"And it could also be the next doomsday device for all we know," she said sarcastically. "But it is still a lifeform."

There was a pause as his next orders came clear. "I want you to be present when it's born. If it shows any dangerous signs of infiltration or motives similar to Jack Dark, you vaporize it immediately. That's an order."

"You're asking me to assassinate the Klingon high chancellor's child, Captain."

"It's not Martok's child. And I doubt anyone would allow it to lay claim to the Klingon throne."

"But killing it may bring us to war with the Klingons."

"Better that than galactic-"

"-chaos. I know." She said, "I just hope we make the right decision about the future of this child. It is, after all, going to be a new lifeform as far as we know it. One, out."

*USS Resurrection*

*IKS Rotarran II*

*IKS T'Yau*

In Klingon Space

Stardate 2012.17

Chancellor Martok stood in the transporter room of the *Rotarran* and was soon joined by Mayla Vree. The elder Klingon appeared fatigued as he stood patiently at the transporter pad, looking up as Vree walked in. WIthout a word, he stepped up onto the platform and waited as Vree took her place beside him.

He glanced over at her and grunted, “I see you have come armed,” his eye diverting to the phaser strapped to her hip. “I trust the child won’t be killed unless we deem it a threat.”

The transporter engaged and the pair were enveloped in the beam. A moment later they were aboard the T'Yau, where they were greeted by several Klingon officers.

“Chancellor,” a ranking Klingon said, stepping forward to bow. “Captain Kuran, commanding officer of the *T'Yau*, at your service.”

“The medical bay,” Martok grumbled.

They were escorted through the ship and soon arrived in the medical bay. There, they found Lady Sirella lying in a bed, a Klingon doctor checking her vitals. When Martok and Vree approached, the doctor bowed his head to the chancellor and then nodded to his staff, who began to assemble around Martok’s mate.

“Sirella,” said Martok. “I thought I might never see you alive again. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

She looked up at the chancellor and frowned, “You look tired,” she told him. “With all that’s happened, and now this….”

Martok looked at her pregnant stomach and grimaced. “This is an outrage, I am sorry this happened to you, my wife.”

“Martok,” she said slowly. “I’ve decided not to keep the child. I will turn it over to Commander Vree.”

The chancellor slowly nodded, “Agreed. This...thing...has no place here. It is something unnatural. Commander, you will see it is not mistreated.”

“Of course,” Mayla replied.

“Dr. Kronn, are you ready?” Martok asked.

“Yes, chancellor,” he said. “We will transport the child from the womb, into a containment unit. I believe it will shield the nanites in the child and keep them from escaping.”

Martok nodded and looked to Vree, “Does all this sound acceptable, commander?”

Commander Mayla Vree

Medical Bay, *IKS T'Yau*

Stardate 2012.17

She made sure she kept her hands away from her phaser as Martok and Sirella made their choice about the inevitable birth of the child and its future.

“Does all this sound acceptable, Commander?” Martok said to Mayla with a gentler tone of voice than earlier, instantly receiving a scowl from Captain Kuran.

She gave both the chancellor and his wife a bow, ignoring the Klingon captain. "It does. I will notify the *Resurrection* to prepare for its arrival. I'm sure you understand we must take every precaution to prevent anything like what happened with Jack Dark confined within the containment unit."

Martok held Sirella's hand. "Do what you must."

She nodded and opened a subvocal channel to Lazarus. "Leader, One. Martok has agreed to release the child into our custody. We are ordered to depart the area as soon as we beam on board."

Then she tapped her comm badge just for the sake of those in the room. "Vree to *Resurrection*, prepare a nanite level confinement field generator in the cargo bay. I'm bringing aboard some...biohazardous material in a secured container."

"*Resurrection* here, we will have the engineers set it up. It will be ready when you beam over."

Mayla gave Dr. Kronn a nod and stepped back with Martok to let the medical staff work. Out of earshot of Sirella, Martok spoke in a low voice. "I expect you to honor your word, Commander."

"I will do my best."

"Really." He almost sneered, but instantly retracted. "And what happens if this child is a threat to all of us?"

She didn't avert her gaze away from Sirella. "What would you expect us to do with such a threat?"

He crossed his arms and stood to his full height as he realized the question was about the destruction of a child from his wife, even if it was an abomination. "I expect you to do what you must. Whatever that may be."

"So we understand each other. Although I'm not too keen on the idea of killing a child of the high chancellor of the Klingon Empire," the Trill said truthfully.

"It is no child of mine." He said flatly.

A slight sarcastic smile came to her mouth, but out of his view. "It would break my heart of the loss for the General Martok my father knew and honored during the War."

"Senseless platitude, Commander. But it is...appreciated all the same."

As the medical staff brought in the containment unit and began setting it up, other staff members began to coordinate together on the procedure. Sirella was sedated and several more various lifesign monitors appeared above her bed.

"If the child is benign, it must be hidden away." Mayla said quietly. "No one must know where it is or your enemies may use it against you and Lady Sirella." She gestured to his wife. "She was rather attached to the idea of keeping the child before the battle. I guess she had quite a lot to think about in the past hour."

They both became quiet as the procedure began. A staff of seven oversaw the process with Dr. Kronn leading. When Sirella was prepared for any event there were any problems internally to perform immediate surgery to repair any hemorrhaging or unforeseen damage done to her. On a monitor, they watched Kronn carefully pinch off the umbilical cord using nanoclamps inserted through her abdomen. Once that was done while monitoring the health status of the baby and the mother, he signaled for transport.

The container a few feet away glowed yellow and red and a nearly full term fetus appeared. Life support systems were immediately attached to it as the medical staff was now split into two; one to attend to the newborn, and the other to Lady Sirella's recovery.

Both Mayla and Martok edged closer to the container to study the baby. Mayla's hand rested on her phaser. After a few minutes when Kronn determined Sirella was going to fully recover, only then he turned his attention to the baby which was now suspended in an amniotic fluid. As it will continue to be until it comes to full term and can function on its own. Mayla stepped closer to the container as Martok went to Sirella's side to comfort her.

"It's a boy," Kronn said, looking at the monitors and through the glass. "Hybrid. Half Klingon, half human. DNA penetration analysis show nanite infestation count is in the millions and growing. But the containment field is holding." He looked at Martok. "The procedure is apparently a success."

Sirella stirred awake. Martok looked from Sirella to Kronn. "Is she completely free of the baby?"

"Yes, and she will fully recover. I've run a DNA penetration scan on her and the nanites that are in her are beginning to dissipate entirely from her system."

"I will speak with Commander Vree," Sirella said groggily.

Mayla went to her bedside to hear what Sirella was mumbling in her foggy state. She got closer and listened for a moment before standing back up. "She's tired, and wants to rest."

Martok looked at her with a suspicious eye. "Commander Vree, you are released from your duty to me. Take the child and leave."

"Yes, Chancellor." She walked over to the large container and ran her tricorder over it to verify Kronn's analysis of the containment. She checked the readings one more time before contacting the Resurrection to prepare to beam them both over into the cargo bay.

Her hand brushed up against the glass and the brief contact made her hand tingle strangely. She put her fingertips against the glass and the tingling returned. The tricorder was giving her readings she didn't think was possible. The genetic camouflage nanites in her hand were reacting to the glass, or maybe something in the container. This had never happened before. Then her senses came to a conclusion when the software that controlled her nanites suddenly appeared in her eyes with a nearly audible message that spoke in a rudimentary computerized voice in her head.

"My name is Tiken."

Her nanites had never spoken to her before either. She jerked her hand away and at the same time dropped the tricorder to draw her phaser.

They were both enveloped in a transporter beam.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.18

Reepchip took a couple more laps of whiskey before setting it aside, not wanting the alcohol to affect him.  As the two talked, McCulloch learned that the Carnora were still doing student exchanges--though everyone who was paying attention to such things knew the Carnora were attending spaceship academies all over the quadrant--and the last Reepchip had heard, it was the Ataran’s turn to send a student to Starfleet.

He also mentioned the presence of Ryramorl Ra’yral and that Shor-Ghan hadn’t been all that pleased about Admiral MacLeod swiping one of his bodyguards.

“One thing I find weird about this ship--they say it’s state of the art,” said Reepchip, “but if so… where are the Inscriptions?  Admiral MacLeod wouldn’t even let me do them!”

“...Inscriptions?” asked McCulloch.

Reepchip launched into an explanation of what the inscriptions were, how they worked, what was best for each part of the ship, and who they called on.  He then went on to describe some of the astrological calculations computers were expected to do--though when travelling out of the Antevas System, those calculations had to be left out, as the constellations no longer made any sense.  If McCulloch had ever talked to someone who’d been on a Carnora ship, one thing that would have been prominent in its description was the mystic inscriptions on almost every surface, and the utterly bizarre blend of science and superstition, engineering and animism, physics and paranormality that these ships were designed with.  With the way Reepchip was talking, such descriptions fell short of the mark.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.18

Ryramorl slowly woke up in the med bay.  He looked down with his single eye to where he’d been gashed open.  “...  no scar?” he groaned.

“No, not if the dermal regenerator is working properly,” said Tiri.

“Urf…  typical Federation medicine,” grunted Ryramorl, though he didn’t sound upset.  “A warrior should look like a Muran City roadmap.”  Indeed, out of his armour, Ryramorl’s body was covered in scars, including those from claws and teeth.  He gave Tiri a small smile as he sat up on the bed.

Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.18

Tiri finished up with Ryramorl and despite her best efforts, she couldn't leave him with scars. With a smile she patted his shoulder, “You’re all better. I’d take it easy for a couple days, but otherwise you are good to go.”

The Andorian checked with the nurse treating Jahkar and was given a thumbs up. The marine was fine and also about to be discharged, so Tiri checked on Darva McGuire. When she last saw the *Resurrection*’s security chief, she was laying on the deck of the *Charghw’l* with a mek’leth embedded in her right shoulder.

McGuire looked a lot better now. Her wound was healed and the EMH was giving her the standard orders about not overdoing it in the days ahead. When Darva got down from the table, Tiri moved up and stepped close to the EMH.

“That’s the last of them,” Tiri told the EMH.

“Indeed,” the doctor said. “Your wounds are tended to?”

“I took care of it between patients,” Tiri said. “SO, am I needed here anymore?”
   The EMH looked around. The two nurses were cleaning up after treating their patients. The hologram gave a nod, “I suppose I no longer have a use for you. You can go back to playing soldier or spy or whatever it is you people all do. The nurses will clean up. You are excused.”

Tiri smiled then turned and followed Ryramorl, Jahkar and Darva out of sickbay.

William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

The Scot poured himself a second glass of whiskey as Reepchip continued to describe the intricacies of a Carnoric vessel. Admittedly, Carnora culture or its species rarely caught the attention of McCulloch or Inverness.

Eventually, the Scot found the opportune moment to change the subject as Reepchip again lapped from his glass of whiskey.

“Tell me ensign, were you involved in the battle that just concluded?” McCulloch carefully asked as he sipped on his whiskey and studied Reepchip.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

Reepchip admitted he was, though he was puzzled why William would say this.

William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

McCulloch smiled slightly at Reepchip’s confusion and then looked down at his drink. “I was on board a Klingon Bird of Prey that joined the reserve force towards the end of the conflict. I was able to listen in as the battle concluded.”

The Muran nodded at the Scot’s answer. William continued. There was a slight tone of regret in his voice.

“I’ve been in too many battles to count Reepchip. I served with Shadow Operations well before your time. The fights I participated in were almost always ugly and brutal. After I was drummed out of Starfleet, I participated in classified operations that were uglier than those I experienced before. Whatever you do Ensign, do not let the violence consume you like it often consumed me.”

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

Reepchip admitted he was no soldier--and that the firefights he’d witnessed had actually frightened him.  He told McCulloch of the battle on Kazis IX--and how Blood Way had done serious damage to the Carnora enclave there.  He’d been pressed to do rites for the dead in the aftermath.  But he’d heard the Carnora had been arming themselves to the teeth since then, in case another battle took place.

Ryramorl got dressed and left the med bay, thanking the EMH in his own language and wishing him blessings from the Messengers.  “I’ll have to get you the proper shamanic healing rites programmed into you,” he joked, earning a flat look from the EMH.  He then inquired about the whereabouts of Reepchip, then went to McCulloch’s quarters to find his friend.  He used his subvoc to let Reepchip know he was coming.

In McCulloch’s quarters, Reepchip decided to play a little joke on McCulloch.  He stiffened, and closed his eyes.  “...be wary,” he intoned.  “For with the eyes of my soul, I see a Prince of the Plains approaching.  Within his bowels smoulder the Infernos of Agavan, Lord of Fire, Destruction, and Wrath.  Beware, for betimes this Prince stokes it to a consuming inferno.  Look not into his living eye, lest thou seest the fire within, and come away scorched in your very soul.”  If he was able to touch McCulloch telepathically, McCulloch would hear in his mind a faint echo of the terrible howl of a berserker.  “He comes…” whispered Reepchip--and there was a chime at the door.

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

Jahkar arrived at his quarters and walked through the door, to find the illumination on and Chas’naH seated in a chair across the room. She was smiling as the door closed behind the Marine holding an opened bottle of Blood Wine in one hand.

“Let yourself in, did you?” he asked, tossing his bag of gear on a table and turning toward Chas. “What do you have there?”

“Vintage 2315. Very rare,” she smiled, taking a swig from the bottle. “A friend on the *Rotarran* owed me a favor and sent it over. He had a hard time parting with it, but he owned me big time. I played on his honor and he finally gave me the bottle.”

Jahkar smirked and walked over, taking the chair beside Chas, “Must have been a big favor?”

“Trust me, it was,” she said, handing him the bottle. “So, you killed Dark?”

“I helped,” he said. “I let Ryramorl do the honors. He was in a rage and needed an outlet, I couldn’t think of a better way for him to work it out.”

Chas’naH studied him a moment, “You regret Jack’s death, don’t you?”

Jahkar sighed and drank again from the bottle before handing it back to Chas’naH. “He was a friend, once. There’s no way he would have surrendered. He’d be impossible to imprison. It had to go down this way.”

“I know,” she said. “Do you think Vree or Lazarus will feel different?”

“Unlikely. I did what I had to do,” he said. “Ryramorl did what had to be done. I wish there’d have been a better solution.”

Chas drank again, “He did kill Sorvek.”

“He was a traitor,” Jahkar muttered. “I don’t know how or why he changed, but he did and he could never be trusted.”

Chas handed him back the bottle and her face suddenly lit up with excitement, “Speaking of Shadow Ops traitors who can never be trusted again, guess who just beamed aboard?”

Jahkar helped the bottle near his lip and stared at Chas in anticipation, “Who?”

“William McCulloch,” she stated. “I saw security escorting him to quarters on the ship. They are standing guard outside the room now. I don’t know why he’s here, but I’ll bet it has something to do with news of Sorvek’s death.”

Jahkar did not say anything, just took a long drink of the 2315. When he was done, he lowered the bottle and glared at her, “I don’t know the whole story of his treachery, but I’m told it was bad. Why would they let him aboard the ship?”

Chas’naH shrugged and grabbed the bottle from Jahkar, “I don’t know. As my father is sometimes fond of saying, these are not my monkeys and this is not my circus.”

Jahkar scowled as she took another drink, “What does that mean?”

“I haven’t a clue,” she said after a long swallow of wine. “But MacLeod would think it applies.”

“Although this IS his monkey and his circus now,” Jahkar smiled. “I assume he’ll be taking over completely as the admiral in charge.”

Chas’naH chuckled and handed Jahkar the bottle. “He hates desk jobs. Wouldn’t be surprised if they offer him the position and he turns it down.”

“Or,” Jahkar said before taking another swill of Blood Wine, “maybe they’ll shut it back down, reassign all of us.”

Chas’naH laughed, “We just saved the quadrant...do you really think they’ll shut Shadow Ops down again?”

“They should have never shut it down in the first place,” he griped. “But now we know why...it was Jack’s doing.”

Chas watched Jahakr take another long drink of wine and she gave him a crossed look, “Hey...it’s almost gone!”

“I’ve got a bottle of 2374 in my duffle bag,” he grinned. “Want to crack it open and see what happens?”

She got up and walked over to grab the bottle out of his bag while Jahkar took advantage of her distraction to finish off the 2315. As she retrieved the bottle, Chas’naH smiled mischievously, “You know, we don’t want to end up in a compromising position if Lazarus or Vree call for us...and we don’t want to be drunk.”

“Probably not a good idea,” he said. “But I’m willing to take a chance…”

William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

McCulloch felt a chill run down spine as he heard a faint blood curdling howl. His thoughts immediately flashed back to the early years of his service with Shadow Operations. During that time he was abducted by a cloned Klingon Fek’lhr and fell under its control. At the height of the traumatic event, the Fek’lhr had the Scot execute three Klingon prisoners in Starfleet custody. Of course, Klingon authorities wanted the Scot’s head. Only after Taryn Kane and Admiral Sorvek proved that McCulloch was under the control of the creature and acted involuntarily was the matter put to rest.

The Scot’s thoughts snapped back to the present when he heard the door chime. He found himself breathing heavily and sweating. McCulloch looked over at Reepchip and smiled weakly. He took a large gulp of his whiskey, calmed himself down, stood up from his chair, and walked to the entrance of his quarters.As the door slid open, he saw an almost seven foot tall, one-eyed Camora staring down at him.

McCulloch again felt his thoughts racing back to the incident with the Fek’lhr. After a brief moment of awkward silence, the Scot exhaled, nodded at the Camora, turned back to Reepship and simply stated “Ensign, I think your pet is here for you.”

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.19

“...*Pet*?” asked Ryramorl, unamused.  “I am First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an tribe--that is, the ruling tribe--of the Ra’yral, whose domains are the plains named for them; the eldest Awakened brother of Chief of Chieftains Holder of the name Myaral in all the Tribes of Ra’yral,”  he continued with the high--even flowery--formality he used when irritated.  “I am head of the Bodyguard of the Olvern Overking Shor-Ghan Roshaigaro in the Arnor Mountains, and I am currently on leave to serve as a Lieutenant under Ian Connor MacLeod of Lockerbie, Scotland, United Kingdom, Vice Admiral in Starfleet, head of Shadow Operations.”  He sniffed as Reepchip approached.  ”I smell ethanol on you, *Ensign* Charatetet,”

“I did share in his whiskey, *Lieutenant* Ra’yral,” responded Reepchip, picking up on Ryramorl’s hint and referring to Ryramorl’s superior rank.  Again he reached out to William’s mind, to let him know that THIS was the one whose howl he’d “heard”.  “I drank slowly so that it would not affect me.”

Ryramorl did not smile.  “I believe I know of this human,” he said calmly.  “The Special Forces have information on the organization he leads.  And, as I’ve served with Admiral MacLeod before, I have heard of him in other ways.”  His single eye stared into William McCulloch’s, but he made no accusation though he’d had more than enough of dealing with those who’d betrayed his friends.

Reepchip looked up at William.  “Usually when the Carnora pull the pet dodge, we Muran are the pets--and the Olvern have to speak very well to get us to agree.”  That “pet” remark seemed to have gotten under his skin as well.

William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.20

*Aye, Ryramorl Ra’yral.*McCulloch noted to himself.

While Inverness and McCulloch had little information on his species or his homeworld, he was well aware of Ryramorl Ra’yral from declassified reports he had previously reviewed on behalf of Sorvek. On top of that, his executive assistant, Sarah Pickering, occasionally spoke of her brother serving with the Carnora in some capacity.

The Scot cleared his throat and bowed slightly. “If I had offended either of you during my poor attempt at humor, I apologize.”

McCullcoh then turned towards Reepchip. “Ensign, thank you very much for the company and sharing the history of your people. I truly enjoyed it. I have to admit I am a bit tired and would like to rest now. I do apologize but I would like to be alone now.”

William watched as Reepchip walked towards the doorway. As the Muran and Ryramorl Ra’yral stepped out into the passageway, McCulloch followed to the entrance and called to the Carnora.

“Lieutenant. Again, I truly apologize for any offense caused. As with Reepchip, I would love to learn more of your heritage.” The Scot paused for a moment and then spoke again with a soft, cold tone. “Of course, I would be most interested in speaking with you about your role in quelling the civilian protests on your planet. As I worked with Admiral Sorvek prior to his death, I have heard of you in other ways too.”

The Scot let the door to his quarters slide shut. After a moment, he exhaled loudly, bent over slightly, and desperately tried to calm himself.

The faint howls of a berserker still rang in the back of his mind.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.21

“You are forgiven,” Ryramorl replied.  “And I give my own apologies, but I am, as your people say, on edge right now, else I might have found your joke amusing.  And perhaps we will speak about the uprisings soon.”  The two Carnora departed.  As they did, Ryramorl questioned Reepchip about what the two had talked about, and Reepchip said it was mostly about his homeworld, the intricacies of Ship Inscriptions, a bit about the Muransurak Uprisings, and finally that he’d tried to jokingly spook McCulloch a little by “prophesying” Ryramorl’s approach--though clearly something had terrified the man when Reepchip had telepathically sent him the Berserker howls.

Ryramorl grunted.  “That went too far, Reepchip.  The howl of a berserker disturbs *me*, and I **am** one!”

“I’ll apologize next time I see him,” said Reepchip.  He admitted he’d drank the whiskey, as it would be rude not to share water with the man.

“How’d you get the whiskey in the first place?” asked Ryramorl, and Reepchip explained the three security officers who’d taken it for “testing”--which meant they were going to get drunk.  Reepchip, Daven, and Spargan had overheard them, and since McCulloch wasn’t actually in custody, the trio decided that this amounted to straight-up theft, so Reepchip had returned the bottles.

McCulloch had shared some with him, and they’d chatted.  “I suggested playing 3-D chess with him.  I might offer OverKings’ Thrones as well.”

“Muran Court, Olvern Court, or Ataran Court?” asked Ryramorl.

“He seemed to be an intelligent man, I’m thinking of teaching Full Court.”

Ryramorl grunted.  “If I recall, you tried to teach Full Court to that Zakdorn in Starfleet Academy, and it only gave him a headache.  Start with Muran Court.  Once he’s figured that out, the other Courts should be easy. And then you can go Full Court.  I might even sit in on a couple games.”  Inwardly, he thanked the Messengers that Shor-Ghan had loved Carnor far more than he loved power and had been willing to talk to the Uprising’s leaders--the clashes between the Olvern and Atarans had been bad enough as it was.

Commander Mayla Vree

Cargo Bay, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.23

The clear cylindrical container and Mayla appeared in the cargo bay to the engineers' surprise to see her pointing a phaser at the fetus suspended inside.

"Get a security team in here," Mayla said, taking a step back with the phaser still trained on the seemingly harmless being. Did she imagine it? That the fetus could have spoken to her through her nanites? "And get that containment system set up, now. No one is to touch the glass."

*Resurrection*'s engineers, including Carmichael and the Madcaps, all moved forward quickly with their equipment and tricorders.

"Infant?" Carmichael questioned.

"Fetus, actually. And it's infested with nanites. We're taking it back to Starfleet medical." Mayla said, keeping her answer vague as she didn't know how much Lazarus wanted anyone else to know.

A security team rushed in and went straight to her for orders. "Set up a secured area, no one in unless expressed permission from the Captain. Bring in a camouflage field to cover the area. I don't want anyone seeing this."

"You want nanite level and nanoprobe tracking?"

"Yes, get working," She said to them. Only when the security team took positions around the innocuous looking container before she holstered her phaser. She gestured to Carmichael. "I need you to set up a confinement cell, in the brig or in the cargo bay. This child is going to become full term in an hour or so and <she/he> needs to be monitored constantly. I'll assign Thompson, Beckett, and Sh'avelith to assist immediately. The systems need to be constantly monitored by the EMH and report anything to the Captain, Commander Sornax, or I. You got that?"

"Aye. That's a tall order on such short notice. Is the child that much of a threat?"

"This child has accelerated growth and I don't want to underestimate what it will be able to do once it's breathing on his own. A security team will be on constant watch until you're done. I'll be on the bridge." She holstered her phaser and left the cargo bay, still slightly shaken from her experience with the child. It took her halfway to the bridge to collect her thoughts before contacting Thompson, Beckett, and Sh'avelith to explain their immediate assignment.

Lt. Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*, Bridge

Stardate 2012.24

Thompson was pondering his thoughts for all that happened during the past few hours. He was agitated that he hadn’t been able to do more than he did in the battle against the dreadnought. And he missed all the fun in encountering Dark. Giving the last few commands to his AI persona to arrange and store all data he got from the dreadnought, Darva contacted him.

“Hey, how are you” Daryl asked, the concern sounding through his voice. Another point he was irritated about. Darva got hurt and there had been nothing he could do.

“I’m doing ok. Need to take it easy the coming days, you know the drill” She stated. Her voice sounded a bit weary. “Care for a bite in the messhall, and after that some R&R on the holodeck?” she asked.

Just at that moment, he was hailed by Vree. “One moment hun, I’m getting a call from Vree. Be right back.” Daryl switched the channel.

“Thompson, new assignment. We brought over a developing fetus from the Rotarran. It needs to be kept in a secure environment, as it is infested with nanites from Jack Dark. Sending data over now. You and Sh'avelith will eventually be delivering a baby."

“Wait, what? I’m not a babysitter.” Thompson responded.

“You don’t have to. Sh’avelith will take care of the child itself. You need to make sure the child and all the nanites are kept in control."

Daryl sighed. “OK. Where is the child now?“

“It’s in the cargo bay. Work together with Beckett and Carmichael. I'll be on the Bridge. Vree out.”

Daryl made his way to the cargo bay, and underway he was accompanied by Beckett. “Let’s go deliver a baby.” Beckett grinned, and slammed Thompson on the shoulder. Thompson grunted.

“Yeah, big fun. Wondering what kind of child it is as it needs to be kept under such heavy guard. “

“One of Dark’s last tricks, me thinks,” Beckett replied in a more serious tone.

“Hmm. Might be.“ Daryl pondered. The door to the cargo bay opened. Lots of security and engineering were already bustling about. Carmichael noticed them and walked straight at them.

“Gents, good you’re here. We need your help.“

“So we’ve heard. What are we dealing with?” Thompson asked, as he glanced past Carmichael towards the container, suspending the sleeping child in the amniotic fluid. It looked peaceful enough.

"We don't know for sure yet. But the child is infested with nanites and is growing at an accelerated rate, so we need to take every possible precaution to keep it contained. We don’t know how big of a threat it is once it comes to full term. “

Thompson nodded. “All right, let’s get to it then.” he said, and moved to the nearest console. The console reacted in a second Daryl had his own personal interface in front of him. The container was already shielded with a level 10 force field and monitoring for nanites where in place as well. “Beckett, can you set up a field that can hold the nanites? Even if they’re active? Put in safety breach precautions to switch to a full stasis field if needed.“

Beckett nodded, and went to work on his own terminal. Daryl pondered for a few moments. Then he opened a channel to Sh’avelith.

“Tiri, can you give me a feed with the brain activity and nanite behaviour of the child?”

Sh’avelith had returned to the medical bay to assist the EMH, so she was in place when Thompson called. She acknowledged his request and established the link he was asking for. Within moments Daryl was receiving the brain activity feed…

Commander Mayla Vree

Bridge, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.25

Still in full gear, Mayla walked onto the Bridge and went straight to Lazarus. "Captain, can I speak with you privately?"

The bald captain saw the look of fear in her face and nodded. "Helm, set course for Ty’Gokor, warp 7. We’ll need to regroup with *Fearless*…I understand she sustained heavy damage in the battle there." He got up and she followed him to his ready room. "How is the child?"

"He spoke to me."

"What? I thought it was still a developing fetus." He sat down into his chair at his desk. "Are you sure?"

Mayla's hands became clammy. She'd never been this afraid before. "He spoke to me through my nanites when I accidentally touched the glass container he’s in."

"Your nanites can talk? I didn't know that."

"I didn't know either." She rubbed her hands. "He said his name was Tiken."

"I want you to put together a full report on this child, starting with how it came about. It will accompany him to Starfleet Medical." He started tapping keys and moving screens around when suddenly two small boxes wrapped in shiny paper appeared on his desk from a transporter beam. The blue one was in front of Lazarus and the other one, in red, in front of Mayla. "What the hell?"

Mayla looked at the stardate in her eyes. "It's Yuletide."

Now Lazarus looked at the stardate on his monitor. "I've forgotten."

"HE never forgets," she said, picking up the small box and feeling its heft.

"I can't believe your father is still doing this after all these years. Giving us gifts regardless of where we're at." He smiled as he picked up his gift. "Or wherever he's at."

"I think it's one of the few things he clings on to from the past." She shook it lightly to hear if it made any sounds. It didn't. "It might give him a sense of grounding and maybe even a reminder that we're still here; each living our own lives."

"It's also a reminder of what he's sacrificed to do what he's doing now."

Mayla shrugged. "Maybe."

Lazarus let out a sigh. "At least he's still alive."

"That he is." She headed to the door and then stopped for a moment. "Merry Yuletide, Captain."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.26

Vree had just left the bridge when Admiral Janeway made contact and appeared in the form of a hologram on the bridge of the ship.

“Admiral,” Lazarus said, acknowledging her presence.

“Quentin, I need an update for the Federation Council, Starfleet Security and Starfleet Medical,” she said, cutting straight to the chase.

“The child is in a containment chamber,” he reported. “The EMH reports accelerated growth has nearly ended and the child is basically about the size and development of a three-month-old. Commander Vree reports the child, a male, is able to communicate with her via her nanites. It told her its name is Tiken.”

Janeway looked astounded, “That’s amazing. Anything else?”

“No. My crew is conducting it’s own analysis of the child, monitoring its brain functions and so forth,” he reported. “We’ve been given permission to return to Ty’gokor with Martok’s fleet to assist *Fearless* before returning home.”

Janeway nodded, “Your orders are as follow. Your crew is to maintain limited contact with this Tiken. Maintain all security and quarantine protocols and once you leave Ty’gokor, proceed to the coordinates I’m sending you to turn the child over to the *USS Bethesda*, a ship from Starfleet Medical which will Tiken to a location for study.”

“Admiral,” Lazarus said. “Vree has personally assured the child’s safety and treatment to Martok and Sirella.”

“I am assured the research team will take the child’s best interests into consideration with everything they do,” Janeway said. “She’s going to have to trust them, that’s about all I can say.”

“Understood,” Lazarus said. “We hope to be under way in 24-48 hours. What are our orders after we’ve delivered the child?”

Janeway appeared saddened, “Proceed to Vulcan for the funeral of Admiral Sorvek. We’ll discuss business after that. Janeway out.”

Lazarus contacted Vree and explained their orders as *Resurrection* and the remains of Martok’s fleet jumped to warp and headed back to Ty’gokor.

Back to top

## S3, E2, Act 2: Unexpected Developments

Commander Mayla Vree

Armory, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.26

"Aye, sir." She said, as Lazarus finished up giving her an update on their orders. While she changed out of her combat gear, she had mapped out the location of the rendezvous with the medical ship where they would transfer the child to before heading to Vulcan. But for now, they were headed to Ty'Gokor to assist the Fearless. She hadn't been on the *USS Fearless* before. And although she spent some time on another Sovereign-class ship, the *USS Revenant* with Bravo Squad nearly a decade before, both ships were as dissimilar as if they were different classes of ships.

Both ships were commissioned years apart and even though the *Revenant* was newer, it was officially decommissioned and sent to the scrap yard long ago. At least that was what was on the official records. She knew from Sorvek's classified files he had sent her upon his death, the *Revenant* was still in use wherever her father was at. A smile came to her face when she remembered the small replica toy model of the *Revenant* Kyril had given to little Zac Dakota-Traela long ago. She knew he still had it with him somewhere with his personal belongings.

She palmed the door of her locker closed and stared at her hand as if trying to see the nanites in her DNA, trying to figure out how it was even possible some sort of verbal communication could happen. She brought up the diagnostic program that maintains whatever genetic code they are currently emitting. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared in the analysis, all were functioning normally. Replication and recycling of materials was constant and at nominal levels.

She could have imagined it. She scoffed at that thought. No, it did 'speak' to her. The child. She needed to consult with her father on the nanites' strange behavior as he had gone through the same procedure long ago. But he was incommunicado and whereabouts unknown. There was only one other person she could contact about advanced nanite technology. But Seven of Nine wasn't even in Starfleet anymore. Maybe her former CO knew where she was, or knew how to get a message to her.

Running a hand through her short hair and straightening her uniform, she left the armory heading to her quarters. In her eyes, she was receiving a feed from the holographic medical team as they monitored the child, which is now developed to the equivalent to a 3 month old baby. She passed by the quarters McCulloch was assigned to, and gave a nod to the security posted outside his door. She continued to the end of the corridor, around the corner, and down another corridor before she reached her officer's quarters.

Once the door closed behind her, a transmission was waiting for her. It was on a secured channel. She jabbed the wall monitor to accept the call. She took a step back when she saw the face of Admiral Janeway.

"Admiral, what can I do for you?" Mayla said, standing at attention.

"At ease, Commander." Janeway leaned back in her chair. "Your Captain told me that the child spoke to you through your nanites."

Mayla suppressed her surprise, as her nanites were confidential. But remembered that the Admiral had gone on a mission with her father long ago, and probably knew of its existence. "Yes, Ma'am. Although I wasn't aware it was common knowledge as it is not in my medical profile."

Janeway waved a dismissal hand to her. "Your secret is safe with me. I know your father had the same thing. I didn't want to wait for a report on how this child's nanites were able to interact with yours. That is a bit alarming. You didn't actually touch the child, did you?"

Mayla shook her head. "It was through the containment glass."

"I see," she said. "They must have used a subatomic harmonic frequency to send a signal through the glass." Janeway was one of Starfleet's leading scientists on Borg nanites from her experience in the Delta Quadrant. Her research and classes at the Academy to this day are still being highly sought out as cutting edge technology to learn. "Starfleet Research has been playing around with nanite tech that can create a subspace tunnel to communicate with other nanites. Your new subspace subvocals is a progenitor of that tech."

The Trill listened carefully and just nodded. "My nanites have never 'spoken' to me before. It surprised me, if not unnerved me, Admiral."

"I fully understand your uneasiness. When it comes to something completely new to us, I wish Seven was still her to help us with it." Janeway said wistfully.

"I was just thinking of contacting you to get a message to her about this very thing."

"She's been out in what used to be the Neutral Zone. The Fenris Rangers. It's hard to get a message to her. She's always on the move." Janeway's fingers started tapping her desk as she thought to herself. "But I will send a message to her nevertheless. We need to study this child."

Mayla gave her a nod. "I would proceed with extreme caution. Jack Dark was able to do things with tech that was far more advanced than what we know."

"I agree. He impersonated the UFP president for seven years without any of us suspecting anything."

"Admiral, if I may be frank. You need to clean house." Mayla said, using an archaic term.

"I agree." Janeway chuckled. "Is there anything else of note you want to tell me about the child?"

Mayla didn't hesitate to tell her about the promise she made to Martok and Sirella. Janeway told her to trust her in this. And that if anything does come up, Janeway would send her a message.

"I would appreciate that. I would like to be able to tell Martok or Sirella something if they were to ever inquire about the boy."

"You made a promise you didn't know if you could keep," Janeway lightly reprimanded.

"With all due respect, I made a promise that I would try my best. And if my best is to trust you, then I'm fulfilling my promise." Mayla now gave her a knowing smile. "And I think I can trust you. My father did."

Janeway just gave her a smile and a nod. "Keep me and Lazarus posted if anything else happens with the child before the transfer."

"Aye, ma'am."

"Janeway, out."

The screen went black, leaving Mayla standing there pondering Janeway's last look. Maybe Janeway can't be trusted. She is, afterall, an Admiral who needed to walk the fine line between truthfulness to her subordinates and following orders of her superiors. And whatever is for the greater good of Starfleet and the Federation. More often than not, all of those things rarely coincided.

Commander Sienae Tal'Aura

*Tachi Koma*, Turkana System

Stardate 2012.26

"Pull out of the system, make course for Vulcan." Sienae ordered Marcus, after reading the message from the *Resurrection*. She leaning back into her captain's chair. "Once we're clear of their sensors, decloak the ship and stand down from stealth mode."

"Aye, Captain."

"Lennier, any repairs we need to do?"

"Just a few hours," he said, rezzing slightly in his chair. "They will be done by the time we reach Vulcan."

"Good, we're not in a hurry." Sienae said. Even at low warp, they would still get there much sooner than the Shadow Ops fleet. She swirled her cup of tea thinking about the impending funeral she was going to be attending. And since she was going to be there for a few days, it would make the trip profitable if she purchased some product to take back to Kazis IX to sell.

William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.26

It took about thirty minutes for the Scot to finally regain his composure following Reepchip’s prank. Once he had collected himself, he walked across his quarters and looked out the cabin window. He could already tell the vessel had changed its direction and had debarked to a new location.

After some time of staring out into the emptiness of space, McCulloch sighed and looked about his room. Security had disabled the replicator as well as all communication systems.

He laughed softly to himself as he realized that ten years earlier, he could have easily bypassed the security protocols, heckled the bridge and then generated several close quarter combat weapons to overcome his guards.

Instead, the Scot walked back over to his table and chair, poured himself another glass of whiskey and resumed reading A Complete History of the Irish Unification War.

From time to time, he stopped reading and mused to himself just how many of the ship’s crew knew of his presence on board the vessel and of those, how many would like to gut the traitor if they had the chance.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.27

*Resurrection*, *Rotarran II* and the other remaining ships from Martok’s task force dropped out of warp at Ty’gokor and were greeted by a force of loyalist ships orbiting the Klingon station, among them the *USS Fearless*, which was looking a little worse for wear.

Lazarus studied the holographic display of the Sovereign-class ship and he let out a grunt when he saw the damage to her port side.

“Looks like she was rammed,” Lazarus muttered. “Damage to multiple decks. Do we have their damage report?”

Lt. Darht stepped over to stand beside the captain and handed him the data PADD, which he was able to recite as well. “Hull breaches on deck 8, 9 and 10. They are reporting 35 casualties...ten of those dead. Phased cloak is damaged, warp drive offline. That’s all from the collision. Other damage dealt in the battle includes the port nacelle, which sustained heavy damage, the dorsal phaser array and the navigational array.”

“How long to make her warp capable?” Lazarus asked.

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael approached the duo as he came off the turbolift and overheard their conversation. The chief engineer had already been in contact with *Fearless* and was able to answer the captain’s query: “Two hours, tops,” Carmichael reported. “She’s going to need some time in drydock, though, for the structural damage. That nacelle will likely need replacement also.”

Dahrt stepped over to his tactical console to answer an incoming hail. He checked the readout and turned back to Lazarus, “Incoming transmission. It’s Admiral MacLeod.”

“Put him on,” the captain said, turning toward the holographic viewscreen.

The hologram of MacLeod appeared. He smiled when he saw Lazarus, “I see you made it.”

“Indeed,” Lazarus said. “Looks like your ride was a little bumpy.”

“Yes,” MacLeod said. “Carmichael said he’ll be coming aboard with a team to assist us.”

“He will,” Quentin replied. “Admiral, we have a guest aboard. Will McCulloch arrived after the battle. He’s asked to see you.”

MacLeod bristled slightly, “How’d I get so lucky. Did he say why?”

“Something about a theory on the whole Jack Dark matter,” Lazarus said. “Moot point, considering Ryramorl and Jahkar killed him.”

MacLeod nodded, “Send him over with Carmichael’s team.”

“Aye, sir,” Lazarus said. “You know about the child and our orders?”

“I do,” MacLeod said. “I read the report that Vree can communicate with the infant. Have her see what she can discern from this Tiken before we hand him over to Starfleet.”

Lazarus raised an eyebrow, “Is that safe?”

“Hopefully,” the Scot said. “I’m hoping she might get some answers. You know once Tiken is delivered to Starfleet, we’ll never know what becomes of him.”

“I’ll give her directions,” Lazarus said. “Have Carmichael and his team beam over...send McCulloch with them. *Fearless* out.”

William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.27

 McCulloch had just finished downing his third glass of whiskey when he heard the door chime chirp.

“Enter!” He barked as he reached for the bottle to pour himself another drink. The combination of Reepchip’s prank, the likelihood of getting answers about Sorvek and Kane from McCleod and a sense of being less than welcome on board Lazarus’ ship were all starting to emotionally overwhelm him. The only immediate...and easiest remedy … was to continue his binge drinking.

When the doors slid open, a large Black officer entered the quarters. McCulloch instantly wondered to himself what Lazarus fed his crew as many of them were built like rugby players. The Lieutenant Commander was carrying William’s travel bag. He dropped it to the floor and spoke.

“Mr. McCulloch, I am Lieutenant Commander Thomas Carmichael. My team and I will be escorting you to the USS Fearless. We are leaving now. I have brought your personal belongings. Please inspect them to ensure everything is there before we leave.”

McCulloch poured and quickly drank his fourth glass of alcohol, never taking his eyes off the engineering officer. He walked over to his travel case, picked it up and set it on a nearby end table. He opened up the case, examined the contents and found everything was in order. Afterwards, he withdrew a hypospray and cartridge. Carmichael briefly stiffened.

“To sober me up” The Scot explained as he loaded the cartridge into the device. He handed it over to the officer for inspection. “I will inject myself with it when we get to the transporter room. In the meantime I will enjoy the final moments of a bloody good inebriation.”

The engineer showed no emotion and nodded slightly as he returned the device to McCulloch.

The Scot excused himself briefly to clean himself up. When he returned, he packed his whiskey and history book into his travel case and followed the Lieutenant Commander out of the room. As he stepped into the hallway with Carmichael, he found two engineers and six security guards waiting for him. Once again, the guards were all armed and nervously touching their weapons.

“We’re up to six guards Mr. Carmichael.” McCulloch quipped. “My reputation must be spreading fast throughout this vessel.”

Surprisingly, Carmichael smiled slightly.

The Scot gestured for the party to lead the way. As the Scot passed a main corridor junction, he looked to his left and saw a female trill standing with her arms folded approximately twenty meters down the hallway. She was eyeing the Scot coldly.

McCulloch wondered if this was the famed Mayla Vree he had recently heard about. The Scot returned the stare momentarily, bowed low and then continued towards the transporter room.

Upon entry into the room, McCulloch loudly announced that he was going to withdraw the hypospray from his travel case. A Bolian security guard upholstered his phaser as the Scot opened the baggage. William paused momentarily and softly hurled a degrading insult towards the guard before bringing the hypospray up to his neck and injecting himself. He then nodded at Carmichael.

“I’ll be sober as a church mouse in twenty minutes,” He confidently announced.

McCulloch, Carmichael and the two engineers all stepped onto the transporter pad. The Bolian holstered his weapon and cautiously eyed the Scot. As a bright white light started to surround McCulloch, the Bolian made an obscene gesture and simply stated “#$%^ you McCulloch!”

When the Scot rematerialized onboard the Fearless, three armed security guards as well as Admiral MacLeod, were waiting for him.

“Bloody hell.” McCulloch muttered as he saw the Admiral.

“Yes, bloody hell. MacLeod retorted as he smelled the overwhelming odor of whiskey emanating from McCulloch’s body. “You’re drunk once again McCulloch.”

“I prefer to call it being in a good mood.” Will quipped. MacLeod simply eyed his fellow Scot and chose not to answer. After issuing instructions to Carmichael and his team, the Admiral turned his attention back to McCulloch.

“Lazarus tells me Inverness has information on Jack Dark.”

“We do, we have three pieces of intelligence that I wanted to bring to your immediate attention. I was ---”

“Jack Dark is dead McCulloch.” MacLeod interrupted matter-of-factly. “This was a wasted trip for you.”

The color drained from McCulloch’s face. He stammered momentarily as he tried to comprehend the admiral’s announcement. He was in the midst of an alcohol induced stupor and his thoughts and judgment were clouded. After several moments of careful reflection, he finally looked towards Ian and spoke in a low, cautious tone.

“Admiral, please tell me you have Jack Dark’s body. Because if you tell me you do not, I am going to tell you that Mr. Dark’s business is far from concluded.”

Admiral Ian MacLeod

*USS Fearless*

Stardate 2012.27

“No...no body,” MacLeod muttered. “He was killed, torn to pieces by Ryramorl, and then vaporized in the destruction of the *Charghw’l*.”

He looked at the drunken Scot and shook his head, “Dammit, Will, you were a fine officer and one of our best operatives. What in blazes happened to you? And the only reason you and I are even having this conversation is Sorvek...he saw something in you I can longer see. He saw the possibility of redemption.”

MacLeod stared long and hard at Will, “Ryramorl and Jahkar confirmed his death and none of his nanites could have restored him. That ship blew up seconds after our people beamed out. He’s dead.”

William McCulloch

*USS Fearless*

Stardate 2012.27

McCulloch fought back the urge to break down and cry. He was emotionally exhausted, embarrassed and drunk. The entire trip was likely a complete waste of everyone’s time and he had just lost his only bargaining chip regarding information on Kane and Sorvek.

MacLeod’s words on McCulloch’s fall from grace stung….but they were true. Will averted his eyes away from the admiral and looked down towards the floor. He choked on his words as he spoke..

“Admiral, not a day goes by where I do not curse my name for what I did to Shadow Operations and the people who served with the organization. The things I did and the people I hurt are ...unforgivable. I will spend the rest of my damned life chasing the possibility of redemption. Not actual redemption but only the possibility because a condemned man does not deserve a second chance.”

MacLeod remained silent as he stared at Will. The Scot continued.

“Ian, I came here to make demands of you and of Starfleet. I brought information on Dark because I wanted for someone ...anyone...to explain to me why I was told Taryn Kane was killed in an accident when in fact she lived and served side by side with Dark for two more years after she and I separated.”

“She did serve with Dark.” MacLeod responded softly, recalling the reports he had seen of Kane’s romantic involvement with McCulloch prior to her return to the Shadow Operations program.

McCulloch sighed loudly as he continued to choke back tears. “I had also hoped someone would explain to me why Sorvek had hidden this information from me for so long. Was he using me and Inverness for some greater good?”

MacLeod carefully studied Will but continued to remain silent. McCulloch ignored the admiral’s actions and continued to ramble.

“I only hope there was someone there for Sorvek when he fell. Anyone. A loved one, a friend, someone to be there for him in his final moments.”

Again, MacLeod remained quiet.

McCulloch sniffed loudly and wiped a tear away from his cheek. “Ian, for whatever reason Sorvek saw something in me. It was a wasted belief but I will never forget his kindness.”

Will unlocked his travel case and withdrew three padds from it. He started to hand the items over to MacLeod but hesitated momentarily.

“Ian, are you sure Dark is dead?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

The admiral nodded in the affirmative. In response, McCulloch passed the padds to him. “Admiral, these are reports from Inverness. The first report identifies three locations we believe Dark enhanced his nanite capabilities beyond what his traditional powers were over a decade ago. I would suggest a Starfleet intelligence team investigate the sites.”

“Go on.” MacLeod pressed.

“The second report suggests an incident where Dark was testing the long range capabilities of his nanites. According to our theory, he executed over a dozen targets located in multiple systems light years apart. There are several autopsy reports as well as deactivated nanites that Starfleet will want to review. The report locations are contained in the second briefing. The findings may be of use to Starfleet in counteracting future nanite threats.”

“And the third?” The admiral inquired as he skimmed through the first two reports..

McCulloch shuddered momentarily. “The third report is a theory Inverness was working on regarding an incident on Umoth VIII.”

“What happened on Umoth VIII?”

“Some of us in Inverness believe Dark suffered a traumatic event which resulted in either a coma or his death. In turn, he lost control of his nanites, which attacked a nearby community, resulting in over 200 civilians being killed. One of my employees theorizes Dark’s consciousness was transferred via the nanites to a new body in the process.”

“This is Inverness’ theory?” MacLeod demanded incredulously.

“Inverness calls it the Daughtry-Bod Theory after two of my employees.” McCulloch replied with a tone of embarrassment.

The admiral chuckled slightly. Will exhaled slowly, looked around the transporter room and suddenly realized he and MacLeod were the only two present. He exhaled once again and looked at the Starfleet officer.

“Ian, Dark’s death is a good thing.” McCulloch announced. “At the end of the day that man was not ...right.”

“He wasn’t”

“Sir, all I ask is you keep those reports for future reference.” Will pleaded. “Dark is dead, but there could always be another nanite threat.”

“I will keep these reports close to me.” MacLeod promised.

McCulloch remained silent as he looked around the room. Finally, he broke the awkward silence.

“Sir, I am going to need to secure transportation to Umbra Three so I can rendezvous with my employees. Is there any way you or someone from Fearless could assist me?”

“What about information on Kane or Sorvek? Don’t you want to know what happened?” MacLeod asked.

McCulloch sighed. “I am not sure I want to know the answers Ian. In the giant scheme of things, what difference does it make?”

Admiral Ian MacLeod

*USS Fearless*

Stardate 2012.29

MacLeod sighed. “Regarding the decision to make it appear as if Kane was dead, I don’t know specific details, but I know this. Jack was heading up intelligence gathering for Shadow Ops following the Dominion War. He was mostly behind a desk, here on *Fearless*, and he gathered intel and disseminated it to the teams.

“About 15 years ago, he and Sorvek organized a top secret plan to embed some Shadow Ops agents in an undercover situation. Jack and Taryn were two of the operatives used in that operation. Jack had no family, no friends really outside a few within Shadow Ops and on Risa. Taryn, as you know, came from the past. Her ship, the *USS Bozeman*, came through a rift in time from the 23rd century and ended up here. She had no family, no attachments, so in setting up that operation they faked her death in creating a new identity for her to use in the covert op.

“Now, this is pure speculation on my part, but Sorvek likely didn’t tell you because you and Taryn were no longer involved and, as time went on, saw no reason to say anything because of your decision to turn against the organization.

“As for Taryn’s decision not to tell you, I’m going to again speculate that perhaps she knew it would be better to keep the truth from you because she and Jack were in a relationship and had planned to marry,” MacLeod said, trying to sound as compassionate as he could. “The bottom line, Will, you dug yourself a hole and no one wanted to be down in it with you.”

The Scot again took a deep sigh before he continued, “I can arrange for a shuttle to take you back to Inverness. But I’d like you to consider a proposal.”

MacLeod became restless. This wasn’t necessarily what he wanted, but it was what Sorvek wanted so he was going to ask regardless of his personal feelings.

“Will, Sorvek believed in redemption and he had planned to offer for you to return once this Legion business was settled,” MacLeod said, pacing the room behind his desk, hands clasped behind him, head lowered as he spoke. “The offer was for you to return to active duty with Shadow Operations, with a provisional rank of lieutenant commander along with certain...restrictions in place.”

McCulloch scowled, “Provisional?”

“Much like the ranks held by Ryramorl and Reepchip, or Jahkar as an exchange officer from the Marine Corps,” MacLeod verified.”

“What restrictions are we talking?” Will asked.

MacLeod stepped back to his desk and leaned down, placing his hands on the desktop as he looked directly at McCulloch. “You will be on probationary status until further notice. Any infraction of the rules could see you discharged. Second, you’ll need to have someone take over Inverness for now. You can’t run a business while you’re serving. And, you will be expected to get approval from your CO before any sharing of information with Inverness or her crew. That goes for anyone outside this organization. You want to consult a contact or an Inverness crew member to ask a question, you’ll need to get in cleared first. If there is any indication you are sharing information with anyone outside Shadow Ops or obtaining it from any external sources without the approval of either Vree, Lazarus or myself, you’ll be out.”

He looked at MacLeod for a moment, then added, “That is, assuming you want to come back. Successful businessman and all, maybe life in a structured military organization no longer suits you? Maybe you no longer have what it takes. Sorvek thought you did, but I have my doubts.”

The admiral stood up and returned his hands to the clasped position behind his back, “Oh, and that drinking habit you have, that’ll need to go if you return. There is counseling available for that...take advantage of it.”

“So, if you want that lift back to Inverness I can have the shuttle made ready,” he said. “If you need time to think about it, we’re hoping to get underway for Vulcan as soon as possible. We have a funeral there in a couple of days. You’d be welcomed to attend...whether you’re staying or not.”

William McCulloch

*USS Fearless*

Stardate 2012.30

McCulloch could not control the smirk as it spread across his face.

Admittedly, the limited information MacLeod had provided to him on Kane, Dark and Sorvek were not a surprise to the Scot. Deep down he knew the answers to the questions days earlier, which resulted in him once again returning to the bottle.

But it was MacLeod’s comment that spurred his interest and changed his somber mood. That is, assuming you want to come back. Successful businessman and all, maybe life in a structured military organization no longer suits you? Maybe you no longer have what it takes. Sorvek thought you did, but I have my doubts.

McCulloch knew the Admiral was taunting him, as if daring him to reject the offer to return. Again, the Scot started to smile but quickly contained himself. He was unsure which was more exciting: an opportunity for possible redemption or the opportunity to prove MacLeod wrong.

“You’re mad.” McCulloch finally retorted after some consideration.

“Aye, I may be but it does not change my offer Will. Do you want it or not?”

The Scot contemplated again for a brief moment and then nodded in the affirmative. “Yes Admiral. I accept the offer.”

MacLeod nodded in silence and eyed Will. Finally, he spoke. “I will have the ship’s JAG officer draw up the paperwork with the conditions we just spoke of. After you sign the paperwork, you will report immediately to the quartermaster for issuance of a uniform and equipment. I will find quarters to assign you to before the end of the day. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes sir.” McCulloch replied...almost instinctively. “Inverness.”

“What about it?” MacLeod replied gruffly.

“I will need some time to speak with my executive team to arrange for a transition of leadership. Of course, you or anyone from Starfleet is welcome to observe the conversation.”

“How long will you need?”

“Approximately two to three hours.” McCulloch answered.

“Very well. Sign your paperwork with the JAG, get issued your uniform and equipment and then you may speak with Inverness. And McCulloch?”

“Sir?”

MacLeod spoke in a low, cold voice. “I am doing this to honor Sorvek’s wishes. Just give me one reason to second guess my decision today and I promise you will wish you were back inside of a prison cell. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly. Sir. Perfectly clear.”

“One more thing McCulloch.” The admiral warned. “If I were you, I would do my very best to steer clear of Mayla Vree for the time being.”

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin in the Danro Mountains

Carnora Ship *Danro Winds*

Stardate 2012.30

Rygaran sat in the Captain’s Chair on the bridge, silently. It hadn’t been long after Sorvek’s demise--may his bones be useful and honoured for a thousand years--that Carnora Intelligence had heard of his death--and though Sorvek had been no diplomat or ambassador, if what Rygaran knew was correct, he had been amongst those who’d made First Contact with the Carnora over a hundred years ago. It had been Sorvek who had kept the Federation and the Carnora Republic out of a major international debacle when the then-younger Ryramorl lost control of his Rage at Starfleet Academy and introduced Ryramorl to some meditation techniques that the Carnora berserkers had adopted.

Sorvek had also allowed Rygaran to also serve in Shadow Operations. And now he was dead, killed by a treacherous operative.

He sat there silently, listening to the whirring and clicking of his ship’s mechanical computer and waiting for the moment when his helmsman told him they were approaching Vulcan.

Commander Mayla Vree

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.30

Ryramorl and Reepchip approached Mayla Vree while she was on her way to the cargo bay. Vree knew something of Carnora body language, and so instantly knew Ryramorl was irritated--and Reepchip had apparently screwed up somehow. Both Carnora saluted, then Ryramorl nodded to Reepchip.

The Muran took a deep breath, still standing at attention. “Ma’am. Ensign Reepchip Charatetet, reporting myself for improper use of telepathy, causing unnecessary mental trauma, and partaking in a hallucinogen, Ma’am.”

Under Vree’s questioning, the Muran explained how he’d found out about William McCulloch being aboard--that it started with the security officers swiping his whiskey even though McCulloch had not been in custody, and that Reepchip, Spargan, and Daven had caught them with the whiskey. He also told her about the chat the two had and that--out of politeness--Reepchip had shared the whiskey with McCulloch, despite ethanol being a mild hallucinogen. He also explained the prank he’d pulled on McCulloch--how Ryramorl had used the subvoc to let Reepchip know he was coming, and Reepchip had announced Ryamorl’s approach as a Portent of Doom--complete with a telepathic echo of Ryramorl’s berserk howl. “It seemed to trigger a very deep fear within him, Ma’am. I know that a berserker’s howl is disturbing to most, and should not have made a joke of it.”

Vree looked at him square in the eye. "The larger question here is, why did he decide to do this when he knew it would violate orders from the master of this vessel? The Captain made it pretty clear that McCulloch was under confinement while he was on this ship. We cannot allow a civilian to have free roam on a prototype ship."

“William McCulloch never left his quarters the entire time, Ma’am,” responded Reepchip. “I brought his whiskey to his quarters, he invited me in, we talked and I told him some of my upbringing on Carnor and time in Starfleet Academy, and he remained in his quarters when Ryramorl came to get me.”

Vree shook her head. "I think you should review regulations on personnel confined to quarters. That means no visitors, and no contact with anyone. That's what confinement means. You may think you're doing something nice for a convicted criminal who you may believe should get a second chance. But that man sanctioned and participated to kill the Shadow Ops team he was a member of. The CO of that team was my father, and my godmother was gutted and nearly died." She took a breath and softened her tone. "I want you to stay in your quarters until we get to Vulcan. And no more contact with Mr. McCulloch."

Then she looked up at Ryramorl. "I appreciate you were upfront with me about this. There is already enough going on within Starfleet and Starfleet Intelligence with the damage Jack Dark has done. We are all under the microscope now. Starfleet Command is probably going to investigate everyone's records for the past seven years. So, having Mr. McCulloch here, and any contact with him, can cause more scrutiny for everyone on this ship. We want to minimize that."

Reepchip saluted again. “I shall do so at once, Ma’am,” he said and departed for his quarters. Once there, he took out his PADD and reviewed the regulations Vree had mentioned.

Ryramorl twitched his tail. “I was unaware of that violation. I was more concerned with him treating both the Berserker and his telepathy as a joke.” Since his CO was still there, Ryramorl had a question and his own report to make. First, he asked the question. “Commander, as Reepchip and I share quarters, shall I seek other accommodations, or am I allowed contact with him?”

"It's fine. You can stay with him. I just didn't want him making anymore visits to McCulloch. But remind him that using any sort of telepathy without permission is in violation of more than just Starfleet regs. It's a Federation Sentience Rights ordinance. Just be careful with it."

Ryramorl nodded in acceptance. He didn’t say it, but Reepchip had also violated one of the Oaths of the Shamans--something Ryramorl could deal with himself. He then took a deep breath. “Commander, I am not sure if Federation Intelligence demands this be reported, though the Carnora Military does, so I shall err on the side of caution. I…” He muttered a phrase in his own language that the Universal Translator translated as “stoked the fires of Agavan” in the tone of one seeking the right words. He then spoke again in Standard. “When Jack Dark destroyed our weapons, I knew I would have to fight him hand-to-hand, so I deliberately went berserk, Ma’am.” he explained. “I fully believe I had Jahkar’s explicit permission to do so. Had I any of my weapons, I would not have bothered. Had I unfamiliar teammates with me, I would not have dared. But I know Colonel Jahkar as Pack, so I knew I would not attack him.”

"I knew this was a possibility when you first mentioned it during mission briefing. Sometimes when we are up against a foe that is beyond our ability to fight against, our desperation will sometimes call for extraordinary measures to be taken." She gave him a smile. "You did what you had to do, and we are all grateful that despite the method taken, Dark was taken down and no one in the team was hurt by you. If you feel you need to file a report to the Carnoran Military, I won't stop you. But that particular detail of your berserking doesn't need to be included in your Starfleet report. We were up against some pretty heavy odds against us. And we prevailed."

“It simply needs to be reported to the Commanding Officer, ma’am, in this case, you. And I’ll make sure Reepchip studies that ordinance.” He saluted again, then with her permission took his leave.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.31

Ryramorl entered the quarters he shared with Reepchip, noting with some approval that Reepchip was indeed going over the regulations involving confined passengers. “May I see that for a spark’s flight?” he asked. Reepchip somberly handed it over. Ryramorl added two new readings to the PADD--one dealing with the Federation’s laws on telepaths, the other the text of the Oaths of the Shaman. He handed it back.

Reepchip’s ears went flat as he saw the second new reading, and the already small Carnora seemed to shrink further.

The silence was long between them. Finally, Ryramorl spoke. “Remember, the sins of the truly penitent are forgotten by the King of Heaven, and the stripes of those that learn will heal.”

“And so shall it be,” said Reepchip softly.

There was further silence, and finally, Ryramorl turned to the Muran. “Oh--and greetings to you on this Passing of the Sentinel. May he guard your ways even as he guards the Household Of The King.”

Reepchip smiled slightly. “And may he guard yours as well.”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Fearless*

Stardate 2012.31

McCulloch stared at himself in the mirror as the ship’s Quartermaster continued to take measurements before walking over to a nearby replicator and keying in data. After some hesitation, he would study the Scot in silence momentarily and then enter in additional information.

After approximately an hour, the Quartermaster returned with various dress and service uniforms in a crate. He opened the box up and handed the top uniform to McCulloch. He then passed a comm badge, several padds and lieutenant commander pips to the Scot. The Quartermaster gestured towards a nearby room to get changed.

When he finished, the Scot stepped out of the room and stared at himself in the yellow and black Starfleet uniform. He studied the officer pips in silence or a moment before turning to the Quartermaster and thanking him.

As McCulloch left the Quartermaster’s office, he was met by two armed security guards. They looked awkwardly at the Scot. One occasionally touched the grip of his phaser.

“Sorry sir. It is the Admiral’s orders. We are to beam with you directly back to the *Resurrection* and escort you back to your quarters. You are to remain there until Admiral MacLeod briefs Commander Vree and Captain Lazarus on your new...assignment.”

McCulloch found the guard addressing him as “sir” almost distant and somewhat unfamiliar. After a moment of collecting his thoughts, Will looked at the guards. “And when may I speak with my employees at Inverness?”

“Your quarters are being prepared now and a communication station will be online by the time you reach your room.”

The Scot nodded in understanding. He gestured for the two guards to lead the way to the transporter room.

Word must have travelled fast throughout the Fearless. As the trio navigated through various passageways, several crewmen scowled at McCulloch in disgust, one openly cursed at him, a group of engineers gawked in curiosity and finally, one female science officer winked seductively at him. The Scot chose to ignore the entire, uncomfortable ordeal and exhaled loudly when he entered the transporter room. He stepped back onto the transport pad and watched as a swirl of light surrounded him.

Seconds later he was back on the Resurrection. As he left the transporter room, he immediately encountered Jahkar.

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.31

 Jahkar and Chas’naH had slipped unnoticed out of his quarters after their...celebration. She headed to her quarters and Jahkar took a stroll to go check the armory and make sure everything had been properly checked in after the Away Mission.

Walking down the corridor, he was passing the transporter bay when the doors slid open and McCulloch emerged, escorted by two security officers. Jahkar stopped in the hallway and directed a glare at the Scot.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he shook his head. “They let you back in?”

McCulloch looked at the half-Romulan/Klingon with a little apprehension, “Hey, Jahkar...look...I don’t…”

Jahkar moved toward the Scot quickly and gave a deep growl as he threw his arms around him and seized him in a powerful hug. The growl suddenly turned to laughter as Jahkar squeezed hard, then grabbed his shoulders and held him away a foot or so.

“I guess they’ll take anyone, right? HAHA! How the hell have you been?” Jahkar said in a thunderous voice. “It’s good to see you!”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.31

 “I guess they’ll take anyone, right? HAHA! How the hell have you been?” Jahkar said in a thunderous voice. “It’s good to see you!”

McCulloch stammered for a moment as Jahkar continued to hold him by the shoulders. The Scot started to softly chuckle and then laugh out loud. He embraced the warrior warmly and then stepped back to look at the Colonel. The two security guards accompanying McCulloch looked somewhat confused.

“We served together on several missions. Colonel Jahkar here is a feared and noble warrior who saved my bahookie one too many times.” The Scot explained to the pair of guards. “Of course, my executive assistant still has a crush on him. Apparently her older brother served with the good Colonel in Marine Ops Force Alpha and occasionally Sergeant Major Pickering would bring Jahkar back to the family farm for fun adventures like hayrides and apple pickings.”

“Robert Pickering was a good man and his sister Sarah was…”

“Enamored with you Jahkar.” McCulloch interrupted.

“She really is your executive assistant?” Jahkar inquired with a tone of disbelief.

“She is. Her sister in law Ducky helped her get the job with me.”

Jahkar broke out in wild laughter. “Wait, Pickering married Lieutenant Amanda Düklinqik?”

“Five children...and a rum and whiskey distillery.”

Jahkar continued to roar with laughter. Eventually he was able to regain his composure. “Please Will, tell me of the circumstances that led to your return to us.”

McCulloch eyed the Colonel for a moment and then looked over at his security escort. Jahkar snarled at the pair and then assured them he would escort McCulloch back to his quarters. The duo appeared to be relieved to no longer babysit McCulloch and quickly made their way back to the transporter room.

After they had left, Will recounted with Jahkar about his ownership of Inverness and the circumstances that led him back to the Resurrection.

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin in the Danro Mountains

Carnora Ship *Danro Winds*

Stardate 2101.01

“Approaching Vulcan now,” said the navigation officer.

“Open a channel to the Vulcan spaceport,” responded Rygaran.

“Aye, captain,” said the comm officer. He started the machinery that ran the Carnora communications array, then set the Signal Converter to change the signal to something that a Federation station would recognize. “Array is ready,” he finally said.

“CPSS *Danro Winds*, under command of Rygaran D’Hronarin in the Danro Mountains to Vulcan Spaceport, over.”

“Vulcan Spaceport to CPSS *Danro Winds,* we read you. Please state your business and intentions, over.”

“CPSS *Danro Winds* to Vulcan Spaceport, we are asking permission to place our ship in orbit and for the captain to travel by shuttle to the surface, over.”

“Permission granted. Set your ship to orbit at 40,000 kilometers at the earth. The shuttle will be cleared to land at Bay 47, over.”

“We copy. Orbit at 40,000 kilometers, shuttle to Bay 47, over.”

“Vulcan spaceport out.”

“CPSS *Danro Winds* out.” Rygaran turned to the navigation officer. “Establish orbit at 40,000 feet.”

The nav officer saluted, then went to get a number of cams from their storage and arrange them in an assembly frame. He frowned slightly as the assembly didn’t quite click into place in the cam assembly reader. A slight adjustment to a dial, a careful tweak of one cam, and the entire assembly slid easily into place. “Orbital cam assembly in place.”

“Engage,” said Rygaran.

“Engaging.” The nav officer slid several pronged rings into place, so that the cams would be powered by the computer’s motor. He brought down the cam arms, shut the reader lid, set several dials, and powered the reader on. “Starting calculations.”

The computer whirred and clicked as it made the required calculations and sent signals to other mechanical computers that adjusted and fired thrusters, putting the massive ship into the requested orbit.

Rygaran nodded to the nav officer. “You have temporary command until my return.”

“I accept, and wish you safe hunting.”

Rygaran was led down to the shuttle. Unlike the massive ship, the shuttle used technology the Federation would consider conventional--if a little outdated. When he was given the go-ahead, he took a deep breath, powered up the shuttle, and flew down to the surface of Vulcan, heading for Bay 47 of the spaceport.

At the customs area, he explained to the officer he was there to attend the funeral of Admiral Sorvek. Before long, the Carnora was through.

As he left the spaceport, he blinked as he saw a familiar face. What was Tarika doing here?

Captain Quentin Lazarus and Commander Mayla Vree

Cargo bay, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2012.31

"I don't think that's a good idea." Mayla said, watching the many screens that were monitoring the now newly 'born' infant' lying in the glass container that was once filled with amniotic fluid. She took another quick glance around to be sure the fully armed security detail was present and at the ready. "I don't know what the Admiral wants me to learn about...him."

Lazarus had come down to the cargo bay to relay Admiral MacLeod's request for her to make contact with the child who called himself Tiken. "If he is already self-aware and has any pre-knowledge, we want to know how advanced he is." Lazarus said, watching the same screen Mayla was watching. "At least to get an idea of what he's about. We need to know if he retains anything of Jack Dark and his Reckoning."

He noticed her flexing her hands with a slight nervousness he'd never seen before. She was usually very composed due to her lifetimes of knowledge experiences, more so than her father due to her Linea genetics.

"And if he decides to take me over?" She said.

"I'll be here to take whatever action that's needed." He said that softly, knowing full well he may have to order her destruction.

She continued to stare at the monitor. "I don't even know how to use my nanites to talk to him."

"Maybe you don't have to. He's not a fetus anymore. He can just use his mouth." Lazarus could understand her hesitation.

"Well, then anyone can talk to him." Now she looked at him. "It doesn't have to be me."

"But you've already had first contact with him. Maybe he'll recognize you as some sort of kindred spirit or something."

"Please don't compare me to Jack Dark."

"Look, the Admiral wants to learn all we can before we hand him over to Starfleet Medical. So let's learn all we can before that happens." Lazarus put his hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right here."

She let out a resigned sigh, knowing full well what that hand on her shoulder meant. "If something happens to me, you'll have to answer to my father." Then she said half jokingly. "And my sibko."

"That's not something I look forward to. Now get on with it. In a few hours we leave for the rendezvous. Let's use that time wisely."

"Aye." She handed him her sidearms and walked through the camouflage screen. The brown skinned infant with faint Klingon ridges on his forehead and down the length of his back was curled up at the bottom in quiet slumber. The life support/incubation container provided him with nourishment and warmth he needed, so he was naked without being cold.

First she walked around the container, looking from every angle of the child, but he didn't show any oddities unnatural to a Klingon-Human hybrid. Reaching back to her starting position, she walked up to the glass and got a closer look at the child as if trying to derive some sort of external analysis of the child's mind. For several minutes, the child didn't stir. In her eyes, she pulled up the diagnostics and administration programs for her nanites, making sure they were all at nominal readings. Tentatively, she touched the glass with her hand.

The tingling slowly returned, not as abrupt as the first time. The child stirred but remained asleep. In her eyes in the diagnostic program, her nanites were reacting again.

"Hello," came the voice again, but this time it had a less computer resonance sound to it.

She didn't know how to even respond, but tried to subvocalize it anyway. "Hello."

"You were here earlier. I sense the connection."

"You mean with the nanites in my body." She nearly pulled her hand away, but kept it firmly against the glass. "Who are you?"

"I am Tiken."

"Alright then. What are you?"

“I am an amalgamation of all the knowledge of nanotechnology and telekinetic abilities learned by my Creator during his lifespan,” a different voice told Mayla. “The infant lifeform is not yet aware and will not be until he, in essence, grows into the knowledge. Unlike the Creator, the one you knew as Jack Dark, he will learn and evolve with his knowledge and abilities. The Creator failed at this and his abilities and the technology he helped create ended up ultimately destroying him.”

As Mayla listened, Tiken’s voice suddenly faded off toward the end of his explanation and another voice emerged...a voice which was very familiar to her.

“Mayla Vree...you must help me...I am...I need...to unjoin my katra from this being...need to transfer it to you...hear me….”

Mayla’s mouth dropped open, astonished as she made a sudden realization… It was a sensation she suddenly felt familiar with during the lifesaving procedure she went through with Kyril when she was a child. In order for her to survive her genetic Draconian reaving the Linea used to create her, her pseudo symbiote that was growing inside of her drew all of Kyril and Vree's memories. It seemed to be happening again now from the being called Tiken.

"Remember." The familiar voice of the Vulcan echoed in her head and into her soul.

Now it was starting to feel different and uncomfortable. She sensed an intelligent consciousness probing the edges of her mind. Then without any warning, it wedged itself into the confines of her personal mindspace. She tried to pull her hand away but she was frozen to the spot. She wanted to scream but no sound came from her now clenched shut mouth. Her body stiffened as every nanite molecule attached to the strands of her DNA reacted to the intrusion of a foreign entity. A void of space opened wider inside her mind as a presence of memories and consciousness merged within her many other lifetimes and experiences. Unable to control the constant waves of experiences, she had to succumb to the suppressed emotions of a 160 year old Vulcan all at once.

Even with all of her years of knowledge and experience in dealing with several lifetimes of emotions, these new ones overwhelmed her senses that she went into a stupor. But in her mind, separate from her emotions, lived a lifetime as the Vulcan. More memories of Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Intelligence. But this time, there were also memories of living on Romulus as an aide to a senator and intimate images of a beautiful human woman giving birth to two boys. If there was a physical manifestation of sorrow, it came in the form of a dying old woman who was dearly loved. So loved that the emotions were beyond the breaking point of any attempt at Vulcan suppression.

She lived through the events of the original formation of Shadow Operations with the very first Blue and Red Squadrons at the training facility on Earth in the Australian Outback. She saw 'herself' reviewing Starfleet profiles for new recruits, including Kyril Vree. She watched the development of the carbon stealth coating on the Shadow Ops fleet. She watched the christening of the *USS Fearless*, *USS Repulse,* *USS Retribution*, *USS Intruder*, and the *USS Avenger*, the *Ticonderoga* and the *Valkyrie*. She relived each time the families of deceased Shadow operatives killed in the line of duty had to be notified. She relived the traitorous acts by Palomar and Erik Jaegar. And the painful dissolution of Shadow Operations.

She relived and felt all of those events right up to Ops Base One when Jack Dark stabbed her. Memories of the pain were all there. It filled her senses and bridged to her emotions that were still boiling tumultuously in her chest. She tried to scream in frustration, anger, despair, sadness, and devastation, but also in joy, happiness, elation, and to cry out with the immense comfort of nostalgia. Yet, nothing came out of her mouth as the other consciousness pushed its way in to settle beside her own.

Lazarus watched Mayla closely on the monitor as she put her hand on the glass, kicking himself in hindsight for not putting any life support monitors on her before her attempt. She stood there for several minutes before her face suddenly contorted unnaturally as it tried to convey several different emotions at once. He was already holding her phaser and he burst through the camouflage screen to pull her out of there. Just as he reached her, she convulsed once while releasing a pent-up piercing and guttural scream before collapsing. He caught her trembling body before she hit the floor. Her face was filled with pain and wet with tears. He sank to the deck holding her in his arms, instantly feeling that her skin was cold and clammy. But she was alive. Her face then softened as her body slumped, falling into an unconscious oblivion.

Captain Lazarus tapped his comm-badge and opened a channel, “Lazarus to security. Beam Commander Vree directly to sickbay.” A moment later she was gone and being tended to in the medical bay by the EMH.

Lazarus sealed the room off and made his way there on foot. When he arrived the EMH was hovering over Mayla, checking her stats with a medical tricorder.

“She’s fine, captain,” the EMH reported. “She is suffering from some kind of neruo-trauma, but it doesn’t appear to have caused any major damage.”

“Can you bring her around?” he asked.

The EMH shook her head, “Always with the requests. Yes, yes, hold on a moment.” The EMH administered a hypospray to Vree and seconds after her eyes opened.

“Mayla,” Lazarus said. “Are you all right?”

"Quentin?" She said in a deep voice he barely recognized. And she's never called him by his first name before.

"I'm here. We're in sickbay. What happened?"

Still in that other voice, it nearly chilled him to hear it as it now sounded vaguely familiar. "Take me to the Halls of Ancient Thought. So that I may slumber in peace."

Lazarus leaned in closer to hear. "On Vulcan?"

Her eyes closed as she barely whispered, "I must climb the steps of Mount Seleya." She slumped to the side. He gently shook her back awake, desperate to know more.

Mayla's eyes blinked open as the muddiness in her mind's eye passed. She closed her eyes for a moment trying to sort out the new memories she now had access to and slowly remembering who she was. "Captain." She shook her head to clear it faster. "Tiken...new lifeform. The tech Dark was...evolved into a new being. Three entities in Tiken. The nanites that spoke to me sound independently sentient. Existing in symbiosis with Tiken." Her words came out haltingly as she struggled to condense all that's happened into coherent words.

"Anything with Jack Dark?"

She shook her head wearily. "It said Jack Dark destroyed himself. Couldn't control the technology. It said it will be different with Tiken."

"Nothing about the Reckoning?" he asked hesitantly.

"It didn't mention any. And I didn't sense any malevolence."

Lazarus nodded thankfully, silently hoping they wouldn't have to fight the child who may be even more powerful than Dark. His eyes suddenly widened thinking back when she spoke in that other voice. "What about the third entity?"

Taking a deep shuddering breath, she reached out to grab his arm and pulled him closer to her so she could whisper into his ear. "It was Sorvek." Her breath shuddered.

He tried to pull away with surprise, not wanting to believe this was actually happening. But her deathgrip on his arm wouldn't budge. "What?"

"Sorvek's katra." She pulled him closer. "I have Sorvek's katra."

"No," he said, prying her hand off of his arm. "It can't be. You were nowhere near him when he died."

"I assure you. He is here. Somehow transferred to me through Tiken." She calmed her breathing. "He spoke to me, strangely through the nanites."

Lazarus was shocked at what she was telling him. How was this possible? Sorvek's living spirit was in Mayla, and she now retains all of his memories and experiences. Benefiting to her or not, she had gained another lifetime. How many more lifetimes will she be able to handle? Her spirit could add up to be a millennia old by now for all he knew. He couldn't help but to feel sorry for putting Mayla through this as he started thinking what now must be done when they reached Vulcan.

Mayla saw the pondering look on his face and recognized a memory from Sorvek. She knew what he was thinking. She almost smiled at the thought. "It's all right. Tayna Vree was an ambassador to Vulcan 90 years ago. I know what this means." She took a deep breath, composing herself.

Lazarus shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry I forced you into this."

Now it was her turn to put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be. As painful as the initial experience was, it is my honor to do this one last thing for Sorvek as a small token for the gift of all of his memories and experiences. I will now always have him with me."

He let out a small sigh of relief and patted her hand. "Adding another one hundred sixty some odd years to your soul." He stood up straight and composed himself. "So, you know what needs to be done when we get to Vulcan?"

She gave him a serious look. "After the funeral, I will go to Mount Seleya so Sorvek's katra could be transferred to a katric ark, then housed in the Halls of Ancient Thought. It's the only way he will find peace."

"Aye, I'll make the arrangements, Admiral." He said with a slight smirk. A reason for only Sorvek's sake, his respect for Mayla increased a notch.

She chuckled lightly at the referenced rank. "Tell them what needs to be done. But I will go alone. I think it would be best to keep all of this confidential. No one should know that I know almost everything Sorvek knew."

Admiral Ian MacLeod

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.01

 Admiral MacLeod beamed over to the *Resurrection* and asked to see Lazarus and Vree. They were in sick bay. The Scot frowned and headed there, walking in to find Vree on a biobed, sitting up, laughing and talking with Captain Lazarus. Both turned and saw the admiral approaching. He waved them off before anyone could snap to attention.

“What the bloody hell happened?” he bristled.

“Sorvek’s katra was contained within the child,” Lazarus explained. “It was transferred from Sorvek to Dark, to the child and now to Mayla.”

MacLeod looked to Vree with disbelief and shook his head, “That wanker! Of course he did. He took quite a risk leaving it with Dark.”

“Not even sure he knew,” Lazarus said. “Nevertheless, we’ll need to let Vulcan know. They’ll want to transfer it from Mayla to a katric ark.”

MacLeod nodded, “Makes sense. I’m here to fill you both in on something I’ve done. I know neither of you are going to like it.”

Lazarus looked concerned, but Mayla suddenly had a calm, knowing look come over her. She smiled, “You are allowing McCulloch back.”

MacLeod looked at her in disbelief, “I did.”

“With all due respect, admiral,” Lazarus said, a scowl on his face. “That’s not a good idea.”

“We let you come back, made you a bloody captain,” MacLeod said. He looked at Vree and glared, “And you knew? Because it’s what Sorvek wanted. I allowed him back because Sorvek had planned to offer him a posting here.”

Lazarus looked to Mayla, “Sorvek may have wanted it, but how does Mayla feel about it?”

Back to top

## S3, E2, Act 3: Leaving for Vulcan

Commander Mayla Vree

Sickbay, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.01

Lazarus watched her carefully, expecting some sort, any sort, of outburst from her. But all he saw was a calm look on her face that spoke volumes he couldn't understand. It unnerved him just a bit. “Sorvek may have wanted it, but how does Mayla feel about it?”

"Effective when?" she asked instead of answering his question.

"Immediately." MacLeod said, handing Lazarus a padd from his pocket with the transfer orders and McCulloch's updated profile. He was also watching Mayla carefully.

Lazarus held the padd out to her, but she shook her head. "I don't need to look at it."

"You already know what's on it?"

"Yes."

Something wasn't right here, Lazarus thought to himself. "Is that all you really have to say?"

"What is there to say? The Admiral is assigning us a new recruit. I will treat him as such."

It was a tone he usually heard from her father when it comes to situations like this. He gave MacLeod a glance before starting to dig for the truth, and not something a Vulcan would have said.

"There is a holonovel's length of things I expected you to start ranting about, Commander."

Mayla folded her arms across her chest and stared back at him. "Like what? That I can't believe Sorvek wants him back in after what he did? That everyone who will be putting their trust in him should be reminded that he gave the order to Black Watch to kill each of his own teammates in Bravo Squad? Kindred Dakota was almost killed, and every other member was wounded by them in that attempt."

"Alright. You've made your point." Lazarus said. "That's enough."

She glared at him, not stopping. "It was them who provided the terrorists information on exactly how to disable all of your implants and hijack the Intruder. That man pleaded guilty on counts of killing Draconian civilians on that same mission. He is a murderer of innocents and a convicted traitor to Starfleet and the Fed-."

"I said that's enough!" Lazarus barked this time, suppressing an angry growl while he watched the emotions run through the Trill woman whom he'd known since she was a child. Now this was what he expected to hear from her. The years between them melted away as the memories of William McCulloch and Black Watch rose to the surface for both of them. Even though she didn't experience them herself, Lazarus surely remembered the experience. He looked to MacLeod. "That just about sums it up, Admiral."

The Admiral looked at the two and nodded. "I am not oblivious to his crimes. But all three of us knew Sorvek and he had his reasons. And of the three of us right now," he looked squarely at Mayla, "you would be the one to know best what Sorvek was thinking when he made that seemingly illogical recommendation."

Mayla leaned back into her pillow. "The memories are still a little jumbled. One hundred sixty years is a lot to...organize in such a short time. Maybe Sorvek really believes McCulloch's changed." All of a sudden, as if out of habit, she steepled her fingers together in front of her just the way Sorvek did when he sat at his desk during a mission briefing.

"Did he think McCulloch's abilities and skill set will complement the team?" Lazarus asked.

"I...don't know. Maybe."

Both men watched the Trill stare ahead as if she was trying to mentally speak with Sorvek's katra. They didn't know how that worked, or if it even worked that way at all.

"Or maybe he has access to resources that would benefit an Intelligence branch," MacLeod said, making a conjecture. "Inverness."

"Alot of maybes." Lazarus mumbled while thumbing through the padd quickly. "His company had been contracted by Starfleet Intelligence on occasion. Janeway knows some of this. Maybe Sorvek saw he could be trusted again after all these years."

"Which remains to be seen," Mayla said with a harsh tone. "He's betrayed us before; he could do it again. And with all due respect to Sorvek, he's been wrong before too." Lightly referring to Erik Jaegar and Palomar, both admirals who betrayed Shadow Operations in the past.

"Sorvek also had some recorded analysis on McCulloch's…rehabilitation, indicating he showed signs that he has been reformed since his incarceration." Lazarus looked further down to see McCulloch's current psychological profile, and the drinking. He snapped his head up to MacLeod and gave him a questioning look.

"Well, whatever the reason is now, we have to put that behind us." MacLeod grunted. "And that is a direct order. Moving forward, he is a member of Phoenix Team. McCulloch could really be a changed man. It's been a long time since that 'incident', and like for many of us, it's buried in the past. And Sorvek thinks the man deserves a second chance. Perhaps at redemption this time."

Mayla and Lazarus looked at each other for a moment as if sharing the same feelings before both responded. "Aye, sir."

MacLeod looked from Mayla to Lazarus one last time. "I need to get back to the *Fearless* for now. I'll expect your reports on the child. Admiral Janeway has informed me of your current orders to transfer him to the Bethesda. Then head on to Vulcan afterwards." He was about to leave sickbay when he stopped short. "One additional thing. I will allow it this one time for the team to use personal holoimagers at a Starfleet function if they want to remain hidden at the funeral instead of maintaining their covers."

Both Shadow operatives nodded and watched the admiral leave. Lazarus waited for the doors to close behind him before turning to Mayla to see a dark brooding look on her face. "Now you show that face."

"What difference would it have made? We all trust Sorvek, and Sorvek recommended McCulloch to be assigned to us. We have to continue to trust in Sorvek, even though he isn't here anymore."

"We often cannot choose who we lead, or even follow. You of all people know this better than I." Lazarus said.

Mayla closed her eyes and brought into check her emotions and briefly wondered how Sorvek would have handled this. She suddenly calmed down as a memory of his patient frustration was kept in check during that first meeting, he had with Janeway, Zhao, and Gant about the Krang prisoner transfer and resistance against reinstating Shadow Operations. She relaxed and tried to turn the topic to something else.

"If Victoria hears about this, she's going to ask me about him," she said quietly referring to McCulloch's ex-wife.

"She won't hear about this," Lazarus said. "And you can't tell her."

Mayla brought up a screen in her eyes to look up Commander Victoria Smith's current status. It seemed a lifetime ago even though it was just a little over 17 years past. Soon after McCulloch's trial, Victoria had filed for divorce and left him emotionally broken while he served his prison sentence. Three years later, both she and Victoria had been kidnapped from Science Base 003 and taken to a research facility deep in the outer rim. Bravo Squad had mounted an assault on the facility and rescued them both. But because they were so far out, they could not stay with Bravo Squad on their continuing deep space mission. So, they spent several months traveling together booking civilian transports to get back to the Federation. Even at just 14 years old at the time, she was already more than capable of taking care of herself and Victoria until they were picked up at Deep Space Nine by Lazarus on the *USS Intruder*.

A year after that, then Lieutenant Victoria Smith had left Shadow Operations and returned to a standard Starfleet posting. Since then, she jumped from duty station to duty station until she settled in as first officer on the *USS Attenborough* with a promotion to full commander. But she and Mayla had kept in touch over the years. They were more than just friends bonded by being travel companions.

"She's almost family, in a sense. I can't keep something like this from her." Mayla said, quietly interjecting as the subject was a bitter reminder of what it took for Victoria to recover from the coma she was in during that fateful mission against Black Watch on Draconis IV. The underground organization called Citadel on Trill had performed an illegal experiment on her to try to bring her out of her coma by injecting her with the compartmentalized symbiont memories of someone else, Jiarin. The personalities merged and brought Victoria out of her coma. It was long believed when coma patients regain consciousness their personality might change. As it did in Victoria's case. She became more confident and introspective after waking up. She also retained memories of being related to Kyril as his distant cousin, as Jiarin was.

Lazarus gave her a short nod. "I heard about what happened with her." The incident remained off the record, as were many other things that occurred in Bravo Squad's history. Lazarus had only heard about it several years ago. "And I'm telling you not to broach the subject."

"What if McCulloch asks about her?"

"Then I expect your discretion of information will not hinder the function of this team. But I doubt he'll ask since there's nothing you could tell him that he couldn't look up himself."

Mayla closed her eyes, but she was actually perusing McCulloch's profile in her eyes. "His profile says he's been at a desk job for the past few years at Inverness. He's going to need some physical conditioning, fast. Maybe even some retraining. And detoxification."

"One of the first things you're going to have to work on as soon as possible. Have Thompson go through it with him. He couldn't stand to lose if he had some more sim time."

"I'll have Jahkar put McCulloch through the Gauntlet and review his physical status and abilities. He'll need a new isolinear tag installed and the new subvocal."

"I'll inform the doctor to have him up to spec on those two things when I leave here. I want you to stay here and rest until we reach the rendezvous with the Bethesda. Anything else you want to talk about?"

There was a long pause between them with just the hum of the *Resurrection* seemingly trying to calm the emotions in the room. "It's going to take a long time for me to trust him," she said in a low voice.

"If you haven't noticed, there are already members on this team you have no reason to trust. But the admiral pulled them all together and made you the leader of Phoenix Team. That's what Shadow Operations has always been about; people with a set of skills Starfeet has deemed borderline illegal or even immoral brought together to perform missions no standard Starfleet officer could do. We walk the fine line of principles and morals."

"That makes us no better than sanctioned mercenaries if we don't adhere to Starfleet ideals." Mayla retorted weakly.

Lazarus couldn't help but to think back when she was a child, how she had sometimes come to him with adult sized dilemmas. Right now, he needed her to remember why her father gave McCulloch a chance to surrender instead of just killing him outright and starting a vendetta against Black Watch and all of their clan.

"Youngster," he started. Her head lowered. She knew that tone. "Ponder this. Your father also saw something in him that was worth saving and didn't kill him outright when he had the chance. I suggest you access that part of Ky in you, and then maybe you can see the same."

She kept her eyes closed and answered dutifully. "Aye, sir."

Lazarus watched her in silence for a few moments longer before leaving her bedside.

Commander Sienae Tal'Aura

*Tachi Koma,* Vulcan

Stardate 2101.03

"Have we received clearance yet? Sienae asked they had already waited several hours in orbit for Vulcan High Command to allow them to land at the coastal province of Raal on the Voroth Sea.

"They are ordering us to land at the main spaceport first. Customs wants to inspect our ship." Chani said, now sitting at the communications station. She had picked up Zhaan's skills on their trip to Vulcan and now can man the station just as well. Sienae was still a little suspicious at how fast Chani was able to pick up new skills, faster than any other program she's ever come across before.

"Send them our last inspection report from a few months ago, maybe it may placate them." Sienae got up and stood behind Marcus who was ever at the helm. They had only told Vulcan High Command that bartering was the reason they were here, not to attend a funeral.

The *Tachi Koma* arrived to find new policies had been invoked since the last rotation of officers at VHC. Younger Vulcans' sense of the path of logic differed from traditional thinking probably.

"VHC says the report has expired. We're to proceed to bay 12. VHC Tower has given us flight path clearance." Chani reported.

"Marcus, let's go." Sienae sat into the other helm chair and helped Marcus prepare for landing.

"Lennier, anything we need to hide from them?"

The *Tachi Koma*'s holographic engineer was standing at his station near the back of the bridge. "Nothing ever since we offloaded those illegal drones to the Resurrection."

"Sanitize the cargo area, and the hidden spaces. Just in case." she ordered.

"Aye, Captain."

The Romulan made *Tachi Koma* winged down through the atmosphere, buffeted by immense heat rising from constant lava flows around the planet. While it had a cleared flight path set by the spaceport's traffic control tower, there were always those who either didn't want to follow the orders, or were too new at piloting in an ever changing atmospheric pressure in the Vulcan skies.

"Bay 12 coming up," Marcus reported. Sienae watched the heads up display on the window viewscreen as their projected trajectory path lined up with the port.

"Maneuvering thrusters on," Marcus said as if he was bored.

"Landing gear down," Sienae responded with.

As they've done dozens of times before, the *Tachi Koma* settled onto the ground with a slight nudge as the hydraulic landing gears settled on to the dust covered rocky ground.

"Engine shut down," Lennier reported. "I'm going to deploy the solar panels to charge the ship while I shut down main power to make some repairs."

"Not now. We won't be here long." She got up to go to her quarters to change. "Get a pass for us to go to Raal after the inspection. You can shut everything down and do the repairs there."

"Inspection team is already at the hatch." Chani said, pointing at the video screen to show the image.

"That was fast."

She quickly changed into the clothes she usually wore as Captain Tarika, and went down to open the hatch. She held up her hand with the Vulcan hand gesture to greet them. "Long live and prosper, gentlemen."

The lead team member held a padd, while he was accompanied by one with a portable scanner, and one with a sidearm. "Captain Tarika, you were here two months ago. That inspection report was ranked satisfactory."

"Yes," she answered. "So why go through this again?"

"Policies have changed, Captain." He gestured to the Vulcan with the scanner. "We will proceed quickly and let you be on your way. Where is your final location?"

"The Raal Province. I have clients who like the seaweed from the Voroth Sea. He roasts them to a crisp with some jumja seeds as a trail mix." Sienae said, trying to strike up a conversation. But it didn't work. This Vulcan was stiff and stoic, only wanting to perform his duty the most efficient Vulcan way.

"You will need to follow us back to our administration office to apply for the pass."

"What?" She responded. "I didn't have to physically go in to get one last time."

"New policies have been invoked-"

"Okay," Sienae waved off his explanation. "I've already heard."

They waited together while the ship was hand scanned for contraband. Because she was a civilian ship and her credentials was listed as a non-aligned trade ship, many of Tachi Koma's unique systems were allowed. And as long as she didn't show up as a ship of notice by the Federation, they would allow free trade. Except for any contraband coming in or leaving Vulcan.

It took nearly twenty minutes for the scan to be done with. The man walked down the hatch ramp with the scanner and made his report. The team lead nodded and made his notes into her report. Then he beckoned her to follow him to apply for her pass.

She waited another thirty minutes before they handed her a small medallion shaped electronic pass that was good for one week. The last pass she had lasted a month. Of course, when she queried about it, she was given the same, seemingly standard now, answer about new policies.

With the pass now in her pocket, she threaded her way through the passenger customs lines heading back to her ship. On her way she passed by an apple cart she was familiar with, along with the two teenagers behind it. She stopped and began to pick through the apples.

"Captain Tarika?" the younger of the two spoke. A female Vulcan. "We haven't seen you in nearly a year."

"I've been busy, T'ris." She gave her a warm smile and then looked at her older brother who just ignored her. "So how is your brother, Syrrot?" she said, not taking her eyes off him. He just continued to ignore her and helped another customer.

T'ris looked at her older brother for a brief moment before turning back to Sienae. "He is well," she said noncommittally. "He was turned down again for our local learning academy. Try again next year, they said." Syrrot gave her a glare after she said that.

Sienae nodded, knowing this was Syrrot's seventh time applying. He had been ridiculed by peers and his parents who maintain a certain amount of expectations for him to succeed in a way they deem necessary for him. He wasn't too happy about it, of course.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a Carnora making a beeline her way. She recognized him from Kazis IX--that slightly twisted face and missing tusk was impossible to forget. One of those Carnora faces she would encounter while in Gaish's restaurant or on the streets. She's walked in those smuggling circles long enough to see enough familiar faces. She decided to stay at the apple vendor and began picking more apples.

"I'm sure he will make it next time." She started putting apples in her bag. "Did these just come from Windemere?"

"No, those green ones are from Earth." T'ris she said with a pained smile. "We get what we can. Windermere apples are hard to come by."

"Captain Tarika! It's surprising to see you here. Bartering, I see?"

She bolstered herself before turning around to look up at the Carnora. "Rygaran, isn't it? No bartering this time. I was chartered to try to purchase several pallets of Voroth seaweed." She shook her head with frustration. "I would already be at Raal now if they didn't make me go in person to get a pass to land at Raal. New policies just invoked last week, they keep telling me. What are you doing here?"

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin in the *Danro Mountains*

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.03

“I am here to attend a funeral,” he rumbled sadly. “Some years ago, I served under the late Admiral Sorvek--I was way down the command chain, but I did serve under him. When I heard of his death, I got permission to pay my final respects.” He smiled a bit. “And I can understand what Vulcan’s like. They’re almost as bad as the runaround we give,” he said, amused.

He dropped his voice to a soft rumble. “I should warn you--Gaish is even more pissed off than usual.” She might work for the competition, but he held no ill-will towards her personally, and so it was only fair to let her know. “Everyone knows he spent years keeping Vanerat off of Kazis IX--but recently my brothers have started dealing with none other, and Gaish is livid.” He seemed to be amused with the Ferengi’s fury.

"Competition is always good for me," Tarika said, placing a fourth apple into the bag. "More work. More options."

"Ah, but I heard you are now contracted with Gaish." He said knowingly.

"Nothing in my contract said I can't work for the competition," she said with a hostile tone towards the mention of the Ferengi. "Or any one for that matter." She gave T'ris a slight smile as she paid for the apples. Then Tarika looked up at the Carnora. "I'm sorry for your loss. Now if you'd excuse me, I'm going to head out to Raal and see if I can get an end of the day deal on some seaweed." She threw him a salute and sauntered away.

He saluted in return and left to arrange travel to where Sorvek’s funeral would be arranged. He’d even packed his old Shadow Operations uniform, which he hadn’t worn since he’d left.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.03

After reconnecting with Jahkar, McCulloch made his way back to his new quarters onboard the Resurrection. As the doors slid shut behind him, he looked about his room and sighed. He wondered to himself if he had rushed to judgement in accepting MacLeod’s offer to rejoin the Shadow Operations program. Most of his personal belongings were sitting in his personal residence on Caldos Colony and he had yet to contact Inverness about a transfer of leadership within the organization.

Even worse, McCulloch desperately wanted his bottles of whiskey back. Earlier, he had watched in horror as the Quartermaster, on MacLeod’s command, had emptied the contents of his bottles onto the floor.

Again, the Scot looked about his quarters until his eyes rested on a communication station near his workstation. McCulloch walked over to the array but paused before he entered the communication code to Umbra Three where his executive team was waiting to rejoin him. He took a moment to ensure the channel was open and could easily be monitored by anyone onboard the Resurrection.

He stepped back and waited for the holographic images to appear.

There was approximately a three-minute delay before Shess, Wenn and Sarah appeared standing around him. Almost instantaneously, Sarah cursed out loud upon seeing McCulloch dressed in a Starfleet uniform.

“What the #$%^ are you wearing?” She demanded as Wenn and Shess looked on in confusion.

“I see Ms. Pickering has sobered up.” McCulloch quipped.

“Bull!” She continued. “What the #$%^ did you do Will?”

McCulloch sighed before lowering his head down to his chest. “I received an offer I couldn’t refuse Sarah. Let’s call it a professional development opportunity.”

“Oh Prophets he’s rejoined Starfleet!” Wenn exclaimed.

McCulloch merely nodded in silence.

“Why?” Sarah exclaimed as she fought back tears. “Why Will?”

“Each of you knows my past and the ghosts that haunt me. Today I was offered an opportunity at redemption.”

The Scot proceeded to describe his meeting with MacLeod and the offer to return to Shadow Operations. He explained the fate of Jack Dark and Taryn Kane and how Inverness was too late to use their intelligence as a bargaining chip.

Sarah cried.

Wenn cursed and objected to the offer.

Shess … Shess remained silent throughout the entire conversation. McCulloch studied the Andorian for a moment before clearing his throat and speaking.

“In the long run, as each of you had noted back at my residence over a week ago, this could prove to be quite profitable for Inverness. A successful and …. honorable …. tour by me could result in securing contracts for the organization. It could also bolster our credibility with many of our partners.”

Sarah continued to curse as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“What are your instructions Will?” Shess inquired.

The Scot stammered for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. HIs head throbbed and his stomach churned from days of binge drinking. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he addressed his executive team.

“I am invoking Article XIX of our corporate bylaws and declaring myself unavailable to serve as corporate leader of Inverness. Shess, until I return, you are acting chief executive officer of Inverness. Wenn, you are promoted to acting chief intelligence office. And Sarah…”

The holographic image of his executive assistant turned towards him. Even though the image was merely a projection, he could still see how red Sarah’s eyes were from crying.

“Sarah,” McCulloch continued. “I am promoting you to Director of Operations. It is a permanent position that is long overdue.”

Pickering simply nodded in understanding as she eyed the Scot.

For the remainder of the meeting, McCulloch reviewed existing contracts and operational activities of Inverness with his executive team. When the meeting concluded, the images of Wenn and Shess faded away, but Sarah remained.

After a moment of awkward silence, Sarah finally spoke.

“Will, about my profession of feelings for you on the *IKS SuvwlI*.”

“I assumed you were under the influence of the blood wine, so don’t worry, I thought nothing of what you said.” McCulloch assured her as he tried to redirect the conversation.

“I meant everything I said.” Sarah quickly retorted with a low voice. Again she wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Wh-what?” The Scot embarrassingly asked.

“I.Meant. What.I Said.” She replied matter-of-factly as she collected herself and suddenly eyed the Scot like a plaything. “I understand you are not in the right frame of mind right now with the reality of Taryn Kane’s fate being dumped on you so I will give you some time to get your head on straight. But know this McCulloch, I meant what I said to you. I don’t care if I have to secure a damn intelligence contract with Shadow Operations so I am assigned to your base and near you,but you and I are far from finished.”

As Sarah Pickering’s holographic image faded away, McCullcoh looked around his quarters yet again and asked out loud “What the bloody hell just happened?!?”

Lt. Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*, Cargo bay

Stardate 2101.04

Daryl was monitoring as the computer AI was adjusting and finetuning the field harmonics to follow the nanite activity of the child inside the life support container. Beckett was rummaging around in the innards of the next console, as it kept erroring out. He was looking for the cause, muttering under his breath. Daryl eyed the container and could see the child. It lay there, curled up and was sleeping. Suddenly, Mayla Vree stepped through the camouflage field. He saw what happened next, and within seconds, alarms blared as there was a energy build up. Beckett pulled his head out of the console and looked puzzled, then he saw what Vree was doing, and his jaw dropped on the floor. “What the…” he stammered. “What’s going on ?” he asked.

Daryl shook his head, while trying to make sense of the odd readings. “I don’t know….” he answered. There was indeed an energy build up, but it was not the nanites. They were merely forming some kind of pattern as to enhance or guide the energy from the child to Vree.

“AI, analyze,” Daryl ordered.

“Working…” a soft voice sounded. Within seconds, a small list of results showed up in his screen. Daryl quickly scanned through it. According to the data the AI composed, this looked like an organic energy transfer. The energy readings where similar to those of a Vulcan mind-meld, only more intense. Cody looked at Daryl, and wanted to move in to Vree, but Daryl grabbed his arm

“Leave her. I don’t think the child is hurting her.” Beckett looked worried. The process took mere minutes, before Vree’s body convulsed, and she let out a scream. Lazarus appeared from behind the camouflage shield, caught her while she fell, and the next moment she was beamed to sickbay. Daryl quickly saved the data of the event and encrypted it. He opened a channel to Lazarus. “Captain, Thompson here. Sending you the data of the event with Vree. It’s encrypted and stored in our separate SO datastores for deeper analysis. It looked like some energy was transferred to Commander Vree. Is she alright?”

Lazarus nodded, “I think so. I’ll be in sick bay. I’ll let you know if she’s any worse for wear.”

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.05

Jahkar found Chas’naH in the temporary quarters she’d been assigned. When he walked in he was startled to see Admiral MacLeod there, standing in the center of the room speaking with Chas.

“Admiral,” the marine said, snapping to attention.

“At ease,” MacLeod told him. “I was just having a word with my daughter. I believe she has something to tell you.”

Chas’naH shot her father a glaring stare. “Father! I said I’d tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Jahkar asked, somewhat bewildered.

Chas’naH put her hands on her hips and gave a deep sigh, “I just spoke with Commodore Oh…”

Jahkar raised an eyebrow, “Who?”

“Oh,” MacLeod bristled.

“Oh,” Jahkar nodded. “I...don’t know who that is.”

“New head of Starfleet Intelligence,” Chas’naH explained. “They forced Zhang into retirement after the whole Legion mess and Oh took over. Anyway, she offered me reassignment and...well...it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

MacLeod shook his head, “She bloody well poached you from Shadow Ops.”

“Chas wasn’t with Shadow Ops, though,” Jahkar said, confused. He then added, “sir.”

“Drop the bloody formalities son,” MacLeod barked. “We’re practically related...you’ve been with her off and on for years.”

Both Jahkar and Chas’naH were silent. It was Chas’naH who resumed the conversation, “Anyway, I was considering a return to Shadow Ops, but Oh offered me command of an intelligence gathering/rapid deployment unit,” the half-Klingon said. “I’ll be staying with Starfleet Intel.”

Jahkar nodded. He had hoped she might remain with Shadow Ops, but it sounded like she’d be off again on a different assignment. “Well...congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

MacLeod shook his head, “I suppose it is quite a feather in your cap. Congratulations. But, I want you to know there will always be a place for you here...assuming Oh and Starfleet don’t shut us down again.”

“Thank you, father,” she said, hugging the older man. “Where are you off to now?”

“I have business to wrap up here at Ty’gokor and then on to Vulcan,” MacLeod said. “You’ll have me around awhile longer.”

MacLeod then looked to Jahkar and nodded, “You’re staying, aren’t you? Or do you want to go back to the Corps?”

“No, I’m good here,” Jahkar said.

“Good,” he muttered. “See you both soon.”

MacLeod then left and Jahkar turned to Chas’naH, “I didn’t know you were considering coming back?”

She shrugged, “I had considered it. My father talked to me about it when you and the others were all called back. But this opportunity came up. I hope you’re OK with this.”

“I am,” Jahkar nodded. “We’d get tired of each other if we were working together again.”

She put her arms around his shoulders and smiled, “We would. It would never work out.” Chas’naH laughed and gave Jahkar a kiss.

“I just stopped by to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat,” he said.

“Sure. I’d say let’s see what we can get over on Ty’gokor, but I doubt we’d hit it off real well with the Klingons there,” she said.

“A human-Klingon and a Romulan-Klingon?” he asked, bemused. “That would bring out every racist pureblood Klingon within five light years.”

Chas’naH laughed and took his hand, “C’mon, it’s replicator food then.”

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Ty’gokor

Stardate 2101.05

Admiral MacLeod and Captain Lazarus beamed aboard Ty’gokor, arriving in the station’s main transporter room. They were greeted there by General Kraven and a couple of Klingon security officers. Stepping off the transporter pad, Kraven stepped forward and greeted the two Federation officers.

“I apologize for the late hour, admiral,” Kraven explained. “The chancellor said it was urgent.”

MacLeod nodded, “It’s quite alright, can you tell us what this is about?”

Kraven motioned for them to follow and they were flanked by the security guards who trailed behind the trio. En route to Martok’s office, Kraven glanced over to MacLeod.

“He did not explain,” Kraven said. “Just that he wished to speak with you both. He was most insistent.”

MacLeod gave a sideways glance in Lazarus’ direction and noticed the captain was doing the same. Both men were wondering why the chancellor would summon them at this late hour and both guessed it probably wasn’t good.

They arrived at the door to Martok’s office and Kraven rang the chime. A long time went by and he sounded the chime again, then turned to one of the guards posted outside the door. “Is the chancellor in there?”

The Klingon nodded, “Yes, sir. He has not left the room in hours.”

Kraven gave the group a concerned look, then turned back to toward the office, pressing the stud on the wall to open the door. When it slid open, it revealed the office inside and near the bulkhead was a large, stone desk. Behind the desk in his chair sat Chancellor Martok and immediately, everyone could tell something was wrong.

Slumped forward, arms outstretched on the desktop, Martok was sprawled. Kraven ran toward him first, followed by the two guards and then the humans made their way toward the stricken Klingon.

“Chancellor!” Kraven shouted. “Call for a medical team at once!”

Kraven knelt beside Martok’s chair and checked for a pulse. Lazarus came around to the other side and pushed past the Klingon guards as one of them sent a message to the station’s medical ward. Lazarus helped Kraven lift Martok up and they heard a gurgling noise come from the chancellor’s throat.

“Martok!” Kraven said. “No…it’s too soon…this wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

“B-but it had come to be…my friend,” Martok gasped. The Klingon looked pale and somewhat frail as he slumped back in the chair and shook with violent tremors. “It…is…a good day to die.”

MacLeod, on the other side of the desk, looked confused as he glanced from Martok to Kraven. “He’s been ill?”

“Yes, it’s a rare Klingon disease called Dhyziir’s Syndrome,” Kraven muttered. “He was diagnosed two years ago. Only myself and his physician know.”

“Sirella?” MacLeod asked.

Kraven shook his head. MacLeod frowned and looked down to the stricken chancellor. “Weren’t going to tell anyone, were you?”

“It was to be a private matter!” Martok said, his voice raspy. “The disease…it weakens the heart…this is why I wanted to die on the *Chargwh’l*! If you would…have just…l-left me there I could…have died in battle…an honorable death!”

“Sorry we rescued you,” MacLeod barked back. “Bloody hell, you’re Martok for Christ’s Sake! The war hero. The One-Eyed Giant! Survived a Dominion prisoner of war camp! How much more honor can one man have?”

Martok coughed and choked as he tried to speak. After a moment he cleared his throat and glared at MacLeod, “I wanted the…honor of dying…in a great battle. Now, that is not…going to happen.”

The medical team arrived, beamed in from the station’s infirmary, and they immediately went to the chancellor and began to work on him. After a few seconds, the doctor attending Martok stood up and turned to Kraven, shaking his head.

Martok managed to raise an arm and waved the medics back. “L-leave me. Nothing can stop this….from happening…”

The doctor stepped over to Kraven with a grim expression on his face, “He’s right, there’s nothing I can do for him. I could maybe keep him alive for a day, at most, but it is not the kind of life for a Klingon warrior.”

Lazarus stepped back over and knelt beside the chancellor, “Chancellor. Was there something you wanted from us?”

“Everyone…l-leave us…just the humans can stay,” Martok barked. Once the room was cleared, the Klingon ruler looked to MacLeod and Lazarus.

Kraven scowled, “Chancellor, shouldn’t I remain? And wouldn’t you like to be more comfortable?”

“I’m fine. Leave us I said,” Martok groaned.

Kraven, the medics and the guards all filed out of the room leaving MacLeod and Lazarus with the dying chancellor.

“You should call for your wife,” MacLeod said. “These final minutes are…”

“I know your people destroyed *Charghw’l*,” Martok said, his voice beginning to fade. “And I suspect you transported the phased cloaking device off the ship before it was destroyed.”

MacLeod managed a slight grin, “Perhaps. Were you looking for a confession when you asked us here?”

Martok rolled his eyes and grunted, “No…but I wanted you to know I was not long for this world, MacLeod. I guarantee you there are others who fought in that battle who suspect the same things as I do. Once I am gone…which appears will be very soon, there may be a shift in the way the Empire regards the Federation. We have had a strong alliance since the war between our peoples…but the Klingon people are restless. There haven’t been any wars to fight since the Dominion and many warrior in this empire are thirsty for blood. The Federation asked us to…go easy…on the Cardassians during the Occupation. The Federation asked us to stand by while the Romulan Empire was fragmented, and its people scattered around the quadrant. We could have seized either of these opportunities to destroy our enemies and we did not. I did not. I remained faithful to the Federation-Klingon Alliance all these years…but those days are coming to an end.”

MacLeod and Lazarus both remained silent. The weight of what the dying Klingon was saying was sinking in as they both listened intently.

“When I die…there will be a struggle for power. The empire is in turmoil. The Iomqa’ Clan was just one example of how Klingons want a change…a return to the old ways. My successor will be chosen by an Arbiter of Succession because there is no clear replacement for me. The fate of the *Charghw’l* could result in nothing more than a conspiracy theory talked of by malcontents, or it could become a rallying cry for war with the Federation. Keep that in mind…”

Martok suddenly appeared pained and his hand clutched his chest as he looked toward MacLeod one more time. “Despite your actions on Charghw’l, admiral, it has been my pleasure to serve alongside you. Now…take your leave of me…I do not know how long I have but I will spend it with my wife, as you suggested.”

MacLeod reached down and slapped Martok’s shoulder, “The pleasure has been mine, Martok, son of Urthog. Qapla!”

Lazarus nodded to Martok as MacLeod turned toward the door. The captain, a man of few words at times, looked at the Klingon with remorse, “See you on the other side, chancellor.”

Martok managed a slight nod of his head, “I will…save a place for you both…at the Great Table when I reach Sto-vo-Kor.”

At the door, MacLeod was greeted by Kraven, who was joined by Lady Sirella and Martok’s son, Drex. Kraven and Drex pushed forward into the room as Sirella stopped and looked gravely to the admiral.

“I trust all is well with the matter Martok and I entrusted to you?” she asked, her voice remaining strong despite her obvious sadness at news of Martok’s grave condition.

“It is,” MacLeod confirmed.

“Goodbye then, admiral,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must say goodbye to my husband.”

Sirella continued on into the room as the two guards at the doorway stood aside and motioned for the Starfleet officers to exit. They stepped out of the room and MacLeod glanced back to see Drex and Sirella moving to the dying chancellor just before the door closed.

As they were escorted back to the transporter room, MacLeod tapped his comm-badge, “MacLeod to Carmichael. How long until *Fearless* can get underway?”

There was a short delay and then the commander replied, “Within the hour.”

“Make it sooner,” MacLeod said, a slight urgency to his voice. “Thirty minutes?”

Carmichael paused then replied, “Yes, sir. We’re on it.”

Lazarus looked over as the two walked toward the transporter room and studied MacLeod a moment, “Everything OK?”

“I just think we should be on our way as soon as possible,” MacLeod replied, “under the circumstances.”

Lazarus gave a nod as they walked into the transporter room. “Agreed.”

“I’m returning to your ship. We’ll take the *Resurrection* to Vulcan while Alantris takes *Fearless* to the Beta Antares shipyards for refit. I want those engineers…the Mad Hatters…”

“Madcaps,” Lazarus corrected.

“Madcaps…yes. I want them moved to *Fearless* to assist with repairs while the ship is on its way to the shipyards,” MacLeod said. “You’ll need Carmichael back to oversee the coaxial drive.”

The two stepped up onto the transporter pad and were beamed to *Resurrection* as requested, once there Lazarus responded, “I’ll take care of it, admiral. You can make yourself comfortable in the War Room until we have quarters prepared.”

“Admiral, captain,” Ensign Mendez looked up from the transport controls. “We just received word from Ty’gokor…Chancellor Martok is dead.”

MacLeod gave a sharp exhale and nodded, “Thank you ensign. That will be all.”

Ian and Quentin looked at each other, then headed out the doors into the ship to prepare for their departure from Klingon space.

Commander Mayla Vree

Sickbay, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.06

"You're supposed to be resting," the EMH appeared beside her bed. The dark-skinned motherly woman gave her a slightly reprimanding look.

Mayla turned to look up at her and held up her hands. "I'm not doing anything but lying here, Doctor."

The EMH pointed to the side of her own head. "I know you have computer access in your cranium displayed on a nano layered computer display across your eyes."

Mayla gave her a smile. "I will rest. Later."

The EMH gave her a blank look before she derezzed to nothingness. Mayla leaned back into her pillow reviewing the cover she will be going under while she was on Vulcan. She had found a ship on its way to Vulcan to attend Sorvek's funeral, the *USS Ikigai*. After about half hour, she let her AI take over to start building her background profile for a full commander in the *Ikigai'*s records and drawing up informational orders for their senior staff from Starfleet Intelligence.

Just then Lazarus had just attached her to a report from Thompson with his data analysis of her event with Tiken. It was a heavy read, but it'll have to go to Starfleet Medical to glean what actually happened during that short time she was 'connected' to him.

The next item on her never-ending task list was to get McCulloch ready. She reviewed his abilities profile, leaving out everything else. He needed so much retraining that he was almost a new recruit, or even more raw than that. The one thing he has over a raw recruit was his former experience as a shadow operative. But as for everything else, he was going to have to work hard to get up to spec with all of their new methods, rules, and equipment.

Since she was ordered bedrest, she wouldn't be able to participate in the initial part of his training, but it was better to start as soon as possible even without her.

She reached over to the table next to her bed where her comm badge was and tapped it. "Vree to Jahkar and Thompson, report to me in Sickbay."

They still had a few hours here at Ty'Gokor, then at least a day to the rendezvous with the Bethesda. Then another two days at least to Vulcan. They should take advantage of this travel time to bring McCulloch up to spec-ops ready.

The two men walked into sickbay and located her quickly. Both were suddenly concerned when they found her in a bed. But she assured them she was alright and waved away any further questions. She addressed Jahkar and gave him orders.

"We have a new recruit. His name is William McCulloh and I want you to run him through the Gauntlet and ascertain his physical fitness. He's been behind a desk for a few years. I want him conditioned as a field operative and up to spec on all of our equipment." She looked over to Thompson. "You should join them for more practice since I'm laid up here and can't do any sims with you."

"Yes, ma'am," Jahkar said smartly and was about to turn away. But something in her voice alerted his senses. He watched her for a few moments and knew something was definitely wrong.

"Mayla,' he said, using her first name for the first time in ages. He sensed something wrong with the Trill. He'd known her ever since she was a child and knew something was amiss. "Is there something with this man that's bothering you?"

"It's better that you don't know, Jahkar. Just treat him like a former operative who's been out of it for a long while."

"Like me?" Thompson said, giving a weak smile to lighten his current deficiencies from his absence from spec ops for so long.

"We all could always use practice. You stop simming, the body and mind becomes complacent and it could cost lives." Mayla said stiffly. But she gave Thompson an encouraging nod. But for Jahkar, her tone made it definite that there was something hidden behind her tone she wasn't about to reveal.

"Alright. I'll give you my observations of him after the holosim."

"Do it sooner than later," Mayla said with a firm tone. "I don't know how much down time we have before our next mission gets handed to us. Push him hard and get him ready."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.07

 Lazarus and MacLeod had transferred personnel back and forth before *Resurrection* and *Fearless* were ready to get underway. The Madcaps were preparing to transport to Fearless to assist with repairs underway to the Beta Antares shipyards, while MacLeod was staying aboard Resurrection for the trip to Vulcan. Preet had also returned to *Resurrection*.

Word had come from O’Shaughnessy that he’d be meeting them at Vulcan for the funeral after leaving Starbase 36 aboard the Shadow Ops mission ship, which he’d bestowed the name *USS Bounty* to since taking the ship and fleeing Ops Base One following the death of Sorvek there. He had given the ship that name in recognition of the hours after he fled that he was considered in violation of orders.

He hoped the name would stick.

“Madcaps are ready to beam over to Fearless,” Lt. Daryt reported. “And I understand Reepchip would like a word.”

Lazarus sighed. He had no doubt the Muran wanted to remain with the engineers. He glanced over to Daryl and nodded, “Have him get up here. I’ll be in my ready room. We depart in 15 minutes.”

Back to top

## S3, E2, Act 4: Arrival at Vulcan

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.07

Ryramorl escorted Reepchip to the captain’s ready room, but only Reepchip actually entered.  The Muran clearly wanted to make a good impression as he had clearly made sure his uniform was in top shape.  He saluted smartly.  “Sir,” he said.

“I understand you want to go with the Madcaps to assist with the repairs on the *Fearless*,” said Lazarus.

“No, sir, I am supposed to stay in my quarters until we reach Vulcan.  But I would like your permission to go and say goodbye to the rest of the Madcaps.”

“By all means,” the captain told the Muran.

Madcap Engineers

*USS Fearless*

Stardate 2101.09

The other Madcaps were glad to see Reepchip one last time.  Reepchip wished they could have stayed but understood why they were being reassigned.  Spargan put things into perspective.

“The Madcaps effectively ended when we all graduated,” he pointed out.  “And it is illogical to imagine we will never see each other again. Live long and prosper.”

Spargan gave Reepchip a Vulcan salute, which Reepchip returned.  Aaron and Bryan Turner and Pui-Chor Wong shook hands with him, while Grollan promised to argue bronze vs. brass when they next met.  Daven and Reepchip--who’d always been the closest--hugged each other, then Aaron gave Reepchip a sheet of paper.

“Give this to Admiral MacLeod when you see him next,” he said.  “I forgot to leave it on his desk.”

Reepchip glanced at it--it was a bill totaling 10 shillings sixpence for getting the Fearless back to drydock, and it was signed “The Madcaps.”

There was little time for idle chat aboard the battered Fearless.  The engineers were kept very busy keeping the ship functional.  It was a side that few had seen amongst the Madcap Engineers, who were notorious for their joking around: when they had a job to do, they were all business.  Some of the repairs had to be somewhat unorthodox as well.  Some wiring of the wrong gauge was spliced in where none of the right gauge was available.  It might not have been textbook, but the Madcaps would get the Fearless back to drydock once again.

Once they reached the shipyards, the Madcaps disembarked and met with the engineers who’d be doing the refit.  Recognizing one of his old classmates, Aaron Turner joked, “I dunno what happened.  It was working fine until we fixed it.”

“...oh, Lord help us,” came the reply.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.11

McCulloch held up the Type VI Overwatch Rifle and carefully examined the weapon. He played with the settings and then examined the stock and targeting scope carefully. Jahkar watched with mild amusement as the Scot shook his head in confusion over the weapon.

“I prefer the TR116 rifle.” Will admitted quietly as continued to examine the weapon.

“The TR116? Are you still fighting the Dominion War?” Jahkar quipped.

“It was a reliable weapon.” McCulloch countered. “It never jammed on me and didn’t consume as much power as your standard Starfleet phaser rifles do.”

“The TR doesn’t have the effective range of this weapon and it’s not as cumbersome.” the Colonel replied matter-of-factly.

The Scot continued to study the weapon in silence and then brought it up to his shoulder to test its heft. Afterward, he placed the weapon back down on the armory table.

Jahkar watched McCulloch as he picked up a PR-226 Automatic Pulse Rifle, examined the weapon and then placed it back down. Afterward, the Marine finally spoke.

“Is it true that you were once considered among the best snipers for the Shadow Operations program?”

“Among?” McCulloch answered with mock horror. “I WAS the best sniper..”

“John Sharpe would disagree.”

The Scot looked down, smirked slightly and shook his head in disagreement. Sergeant Major John Sharpe had replaced McCulloch as Bravo Squad’s sniper after the Scot’s conviction and incarceration.

The Colonel continued. “Have you shot a weapon in the last five years?”

“I hunt weekly and target shoot every other day.”

“In the past two years. what was the maximum range you struck a target?” Jahkar pressed.

“Hunting or target practice?”

“Either.”

“1700 meters last winter.” McCulloch proudly announced.

“1700?” Jahkar asked as he eyed the Scot in disbelief.

“1700.”

The Colonel chuckled as he continued to study McCulloch suspiciously. He picked up a TR390 Subrifle and handed it to the Scot.

“Tell me what you know about one of these.” He demanded.

“Not much. I remember using a TR120 with Bravo Squad but I never handled one of these. We heard about this particular weapon at Inverness but I never got a chance until now to see one up close.” McCulloch conceded.

“What did you use as a backup weapon to your TR116?” Jahkar asked.

“A Type II phaser.” William replied.

“That’s it?”

“Should I have used something more?”

“These days Starfleet usually requires its snipers to carry two rifles and some form of a hand held weapon.”

“So, I am going to be the team sniper?” McCulloch asked.

“That’s up to Commander Vree but if so, we’ll need you to get into shape and accustomed to carrying more equipment than you were previously used to.”

A look of concern spread across the Scot’s face. Jahkar picked up on the Scot’s reservations.

“Concerns Lieutenant Commander?”

“Are you going to make me run?”

“Of course. How many miles do you typically run now?”

“Two city blocks?”

“Wh--what?” Jahkar stammered.

“About that...it’s two blocks between my office and the local tavern.” The Scot admitted.

Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.11

The Andorian woman was in sick bay, checking readings coming from the pod containing the child, which was in the ship’s cargo bay. From the med bay, she could monitor the infant’s vitals and even key up a holographic display to visually confirm the child was alright.

So far, the Klingon-Human hybrid seemed to be normal -- with the expectation of the complicated biologically engineered nanites inside its body.

“Report,” the EMH said, walking over from where she had just finished treating the last of the injured crew from the battle.

“Everything seems normal...as normal as it can be,” said Tiri. “Do you require anything else, doctor?”

The EMH shook its head, “I believe I can handle it from here. You are dismissed, ensign.”

Sh’avelith nodded and turned to stroll out of the medical bay. She headed down to the mess hall seeking out anyone from the team who might be there having a late meal.

On the way, she passed the armory and stopped to check in and see if anyone else was there. Shadow Ops members were often found in one of three places on Resurrection: the mess, the holodeck and the armory.

When the door slid open, she found the lights on and Jahkar was there talking to another man in a black Shadow Ops uniform.

She noted they were handling a rifle, it looked to be a Type VI Overwatch, and she grinned as they looked over at her, “Boys up late, playing with their toys.”

Tiri looked at the newcomer and stepped forward, extending a hand to him, “Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith, nice to meet you.”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.12

“Boys up late, playing with their toys.” The Andorian announced before she stepped forward and extended a hand to McCulloch, “Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith, nice to meet you.”

McCulloch cocked his head slightly to the side and studied the Andorian for a moment. His primary interaction with the species had been through his Chief Intelligence Officer Shess Ch'taolnos. Over the five years he had worked with the Andorian, he had found him to be somewhat stiff and cold, although highly professional. In contrast, the ensign before him appeared to be eager to meet him.

The Scot instantly recognized that Tiri had no idea or clue who he was. As a result, McCulloch decided to preemptively strike, extend his hand to the Andorian and warmly clasped hers..

“Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch.” He announced as he glanced over at the armory table. “And yes, the boys are playing with their toys.

Tiri smiled slightly. McCulloch continued.

“Tell me Ensign, Colonel Jahkar is playing show and tell with me and sharing all of his wonderful toys. He’s yet to show me his selection of hand to hand combat weapons. Do you have any preferences?”

A smile spread across the Andorian’s face. “An Ushaan-tor, naturally.”

McCulloch nodded and bowed slightly in deference. “The Andorian ice pick. A beautiful weapon. A colleague of mine has a collection of those weapons on his office wall.”

“And what is your choice?” The ensign asked.

This time, a smile spread across McCulloch’s face. He pulled up the right trouser leg of his uniform, revealing a dirk knife strapped to his calf. Jahkar took a step back and studied the weapon as the Scot withdrew it from the sheath.

“That is not standard issue.” He observed. “How did you even get that on board a Starfleet vessel?”

“I didn’t. I convinced the quartermaster to replicate one for me.” McCulloch quickly answered before snapping his wrist. The dirk spun and sunk blade first into the armory table with a soft thud.

Will then turned his attention back towards the Andorian. “Ensign, please feel free to inspect the weapon. I know it is not of the same quality of an Ushaan-tor, but I would like your thoughts on it.”

Lt. Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.12

Daryl entered the armory and saw Jahkar and McCulloch were already there, as well as Ensign Sh’avelith. She was inspecting some kind of knife in the table.

Daryl walked towards them. He nodded towards Jahkar and Tiri, then he looked at McCulloch and introduced himself “Lt. Daryl Thompson. Nice to meet the legend in person” and he extended his hand towards McCulloch.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.13

“Lt. Daryl Thompson. Nice to meet the legend in person”

McCulloch cocked his right eyebrow and chuckled slightly at the lieutenant’s comments. He was unsure if the officer was being sarcastic or sincere given the Scot’s history.

WIll studied Thompson for a moment, convinced that at some point in his past history, the pair had served together in some capacity. After a moment of reflection, the Scot decided to give Thompson the benefit of the doubt and assumed the greeting was in fact,  complimentary.

McCulloch extended his hand and clasped it with Thompson’s.

“William McCulloch. Lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, is everyone on this team simply going to ignore my past?”

Lt. Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.14

Thompson scoffed "We all have a past. Some worse than others." He said, a dark gleam passing over his face. He looked at McCulloch. "Yet, here we are. All handpicked by the man who believed in us…" He silenced for a brief moment. "... And whom we are going to bring a last salute soon." The conversation fell silent for a few moments, then Daryl looked up again "But we still have a mission. So, we need to train. Jahkar, what do you have in store for us?"

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.14

The Scot took in Thompson’s comments and nearly broke down. He quickly regained his composure, walked over to the lieutenant and gave him a bear hug. Afterwards, he chuckled slightly.

“I have a feeling Jahkar is about to run us through the ringer. Do your worst, Colonel.”

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.14

Two hours later, Jahkar, McCulloch, Sh’avelith and Thompson were in the middle of a massive firefight on Vashti, a desert world in the binary star system Qiris. The mission had been to locate a group of terrorists with the Romulan Rebirth Movement who had taken Federation hostages from a diplomatic mission and were holding them in a desert base.

The four-member team tracked the terrorists to an abandoned hydroponics farm 25 kilometers from the nearest Romulan Relocation Camp. There, with McCulloch on overwatch, the team infiltrated the base at night and had freed the hostages. They were now working to keep the hostages safe while they located and destroyed a dampening field preventing them from being beamed out.

Jahkar and Sh’avelith were holding off a squad of Romulan terrorists at the entrance to an underground bunker at the site where they believed the dampening field generator was located, while Thompson made his way through the subterranean facility looking for the generator.

The half-Klingon/Romulan managed a glance out the door to the bunker toward a rocky cliff overlooking the site. Up there, in the darkness, McCulloch was using his TR-116 to pick off Romulans before they could reach the contested bunker.

“Phoenix Three to Phoenix 10,” Jahkar said into his subvocal communicator. Phoenix 10 was the callsign he’d temporarily assigned to McCulloch. “How many are still out there?”

“Six that I can see,” the Scot reported back. “They’re hunkered down good.”

Jahkar frowned, “Phoenix Five. How’s it coming with that dampening field?”

The comm crackled, “Five here,” Daryl responded. “Still no sign of it, but I have a hunch its to the very back of the complex. Give me a few more minutes.”

“Not sure we have that long!” Sh’aveilth barked as more incoming fire came from under a ground transport parked in the area where at least two Romulans were hiding. “They’re on the move!”

Jahkar’s thermal optics in his helmet’s visor confirmed four Romulans were on the move, running from behind a dune where they were hiding, attempting to move to small outbuilding located near the bunker entrance.

“Phoenix 10, tell me you got them?” Jahkar asked, while behind him five Federation diplomats huddled in the bunker entrance, staying down to avoid being shot…

Commander Mayla Vree

Sickbay, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.14

"Commander Vree, you have an incoming transmission from Trill routed through your Starfleet cover." The bridge announced to her over her comm badge.

She put her spoon back on to the food tray and tapped the badge. "I'll take it in my quarters. I'm on my way there now. Vree, out." She got up from the bed carefully and slid on to her feet.

"Commander, you're assigned to bedrest." The doctor came out of his office.

"I'm rested enough, Doctor. I feel fine. Thank you for your help." Mayla said with an authoritative tone that defied any resistance.

"I'll put it in my report," the doctor said, knowing it was futile.

"Put it in your report," she said, walking to the door. "And I'll even sign a waiver."

"At least let me give you a medical monitor so I can watch your biosigns to be sure you're back to normal."

"Fine," she said, walking over to him. First, he attached a small discus to each one of her temples, another one on her chest, and one on her back between her shoulder blades. Once he activated them her biosigns appeared on one of his various monitors.

"Thank you. I'll contact you if we notice anything."

"How long do you need to watch me?"

"Let's say you come back tomorrow and we'll see then."

Mayla gave him an impatient frown. "Aye."

She left then and quickly got back to her quarters to see the call waiting for her. The transmission opened on her wall screen in a flash. An elderly Trill woman appeared sitting where Mayla knew was in the kitchen of her cottage on the Savien homestead on Trill. Mayla could see the warm purple tinted light streaming in from the west facing windows that had always casted the room full of heart and warmth. She remembered fondly the kitchen table that was behind her as many happy memories were created there. One in particular was when Linsayla had 'told' Kyril they were getting married, to no one's surprise except for him. At seven years old, Mayla was sitting at the table picking flower petals out of her hair after Linsayla poured a bowl full of them over her head.

But this wasn't a time to be nostalgic. Her grandmother Lessi's worried face was prevalent that something had happened. There was no salutation, just a hysterical plea.

"Oh Mayla! Tylin has left without a word and I don't know where he went!" Lessi's voice shook haltingly with worry. "He's been gone for two days. I asked the neighbors and no one has seen him. I think he left in the night. I tried contacting your father, but he's unavailable. I'm sorry to call you."

"That's alright, grandmother. I've told you before, you can call me anytime. Can you tell me when the last time was you saw him and how much he packed?"

Lessi explained to her when he came home from the Academy two weeks ago, he had confessed to her that he had quit. And that he wanted something different for himself than what his Starfleet family had. He had left without a word or a note. When she searched his room the morning after, his pack, some clothes and belongings, were gone.

"Have you tried calling Zac? Or Nielle?" Mayla asked, already accessing the Trill Command Network to try to locate her little brother's whereabouts. And if he even was still on Trill.

"I have, and Zac was tightlipped about it. He's been so busy and under alot of pressure at the Academy. And Nielle hasn't responded to any of my calls. It sounds like she is out on assignment." Her grandmother sighed. "Mayla, I'm afraid I'm too old to go out to look for him."

"No!" Mayla said. "You will do nothing of the sort. I'll start a search for him and talk with some people, including Zac. I'll get it out of him whatever he knows. I promise you that, Grandmother. Don't worry, I'll find him."

Her grandmother took a deep breath and sighed. Now she gave Mayla a warm smile. "How are you, child?"

"I'm doing fine. But I'm going to start looking for Zac before my next assignment is handed to me. I have a little bit of time right now. You go take your nap now, it's afternoon and I'm sure you're exhausted with worry." Mayla already had other screens opened and narrowed down the video constructs to those around her grandmother's house to try to track down Tylin.

"You'll let me know when you've found him?"

"I will. Starting with talking to Zac."

Her grandmother smiled again and blew her a kiss before her image disappeared. Mayla didn't waste any time opening a channel to Starfleet Academy. Using her privilege of rank and sector level clearance, she was able to get a direct channel quickly.

"Connecting with Zachary Dakota-Traela at Starfleet Academy," the communication network's computer announced. Within a few seconds, the channel opened and connected with the son of her godmother, Kindred Dakota. His pleasantly smiling face appeared on the screen.

"Uh, hi May-may!"

She ignored the obvious ploy to curry her good side. "Don't 'Hi May-may' me, Zac. Where did Tylin go?"

The teenager shook his dark mane of hair that flopped over his face. That curly mop was so reminiscent from his mother although she always kept her's in check. "I tried to talk him out of leaving. We had an argument and he shut me out. He hasn't been happy in a long while, Mayla. Even after he joined the Academy and the time we spent together here. Every time I see him, he was always moping around. I thought after I was accepted into the Academy he would stay, but he's gone now. He said he was going home. I haven't talked with him since then."

She shook her head. "He left home two days ago without a word or a note of where he was going."

"Then I don't know, Mayla. Honest."

Mayla took a deep breath. The pair had been inseparable since Tylin's twin sister Nilani's death. And since then he and Zac became as close as brothers could be. But she had known for a long while that a part of her brother's heart had died along with his mother and sister. It was a tragedy they all had to learn to live with. Although Mayla tried her best to console him through the pain, that dead part of him never recovered. He began to blame his absent father, Kyril, and eventually come to resent him through his absence and sporadic communications.

Only because Mayla knew Kyril better than anyone in the universe, something died within him too after the loss. She hoped he had found peace by now, wherever he might be. Now Tylin has gone awol, and she needed to find him for his grandmother's sake. Lessi wasn't going to stop worrying until he was found despite what Mayla said to comfort her. The loss of Nilani had also hit her hard.

"Do you know if he talked with Nielle?" Mayla asked about the only other person her brother was close to.

Zac shook his head. "He didn't say anything about her."

"I'll ask her," the Trill said, knowing if Nielle Bryce knew anything about Tylin's whereabouts, she was pretty sure she could get that information out of the Draconian without too much trouble. After all, she loved him just as much as Mayla did.

"How's your Ma?" Mayla asked next as a distraction so she could start writing search queries for logs and sensors throughout the FedNet to see if Tylin got on a ship and left Trill. "Is she still on the *Reprisal*?"

"She is. Off doing whatever she does now." He gave her a wink. "You would know better than I."

Mayla held back a retort he was sure would come whenever it concerned the classified nature of her and Kindred's duty posting. "I don't talk with her much. I would think she would talk to you more."

"I get the occasional message from her, reminding me to remember my place and obey the rules." He said almost with a pout. She always knew him best.

"And you're staying out of trouble?"He gave her a smirk. "Always!"

She always read that smirk as mischievous. And she was never wrong about it. "You know, if you get into any trouble, your Dad would be on you before you even get hauled into the superintendent's office."

At the mention of his traditionalist Trill father, the area around his eyes wrinkled a bit in fear. Captain Dezin Traela was a stiff, by the book, man who stuck to his principles. It took Kindred Dakota to marry him to loosen up that hard facade. Traela had taken a duty station on a ship in the Sol Sector to stay close to Zac since Kindred could be anywhere and her location was classified.

"I know. I'm being good." He said almost dejectedly. But she could still see the smirk behind the fake pouting look he now had on his lips.

"If you hear from Tylin, or anything about his whereabouts, you tell me immediately." Mayla ordered with that tone of an older sister. "Is that understood?"

"I will."

"Vree, out." Zac's smile was the last thing she saw when the transmission ended. She put together search criteria for Trill and let her AI handle the rest. Then she took a sonic shower and settled into her bunk when Lazarus called her.

"Get your ass back to sickbay."

"I feel fine."

"You just went through something no one's gone through before. And with your unique...genetics, we don’t know how it's going to affect you. I want you under observation for a while to be sure there are no adverse effects. Especially with your nanites." Lazarus rattled straight out as if he had rehearsed it.

"But I've got med monitors," she tried to argue.

"And if something does happen, it'll be too late by the time anyone gets to your quarters." There was a moment of pause. "I...need to be sure you're okay." He cleared his throat. "And fit enough for duty."

Mayla gave in to his fatherly response. "Aye, Captain. Reporting to sickbay now."

*USS Resurrection*

*USS Fearless*

Ty’gokor

Stardate 2101.15

*Fearless* went to warp and was on its way to Beta Antares. Shortly thereafter, *Resurrection* moved away from the station and headed out of the system under warp speed – putting enough distance between the Vigilant-class starship and the watchful eyes of the Klingons before they attempted to engage the coaxial drive.

So concerned about the use of the drive in front of the Klingons Lazarus was, he decided to run the *Resurrection* at maximum warp speed to get out of the Klingon Empire. Four hours later, well outside Klingon territory, Lazarus had the ship drop out of warp and then he initiated Black Alert.  When the coaxial drive engaged, the ship felt like it was turned upside down for a moment, then it reappeared, approaching a big, orange and tan colored world they all recognized as Vulcan.

“Hail the Vulcan High Command,” Lazarus told Lt. Darht. “Let them know we have arrived.”

Back to top

## S3, E2, Act 5: Debriefing on Vulcan

Commander Mayla Vree

Cargo Bay, *USS Resurrection* at rendezvous with *USS Bethesda*

Stardate 2101.15

Memories of Vulcan and Starfleet Command began to intrude into her thoughts every so often now. Sorvek's sporadic memories came in a flash if she saw something that reminded her of a significant memory. On her way down to the cargo bay, she had to stop for a moment to control the emotions and memory before she could continue walking. Several crew members saw her holding on to the wall and offered to help. But she just waved them away. She was sure the medical monitors she was still wearing were relaying her physiological condition to sickbay as they have been since she was discharged from sickbay yesterday. It took her several minutes to finally make it to the cargo bay.

The Olympic-class ship was already waiting for them when they arrived at the designated coordinates from Admiral Janeway. It was no surprise that the *Bethesda* was sent to take the child. Of all of the ships of her class, she was equipped with the best systems, and many experimental ones. The *Bethesda* had a long and eventful career throughout the past 30 years of its commission. Named after the Starfleet medical facility in Maryland, Earth, the ship originally was to be a medical systems field testbed for new medical programmed procedures and technology. As the years went by and after testing hundreds of prototypes in the field, medical officers began to request to be stationed on the testbed ship just to try out new developing tech. It became one of the most sought out stations in Starfleet Medical. The Bethesda had become the forefront of cutting-edge medical practices in the field. It was also the first ship to field test the prototype of the Emergency Medical Hologram, then called the EMH Program AK-1 Diagnostic and Surgical Subroutine Omega-323.

Mayla walked in and stood at a spot out of the way as Thompson, Beckett, Carmichael, a few of his engineers, and the emergency holographic medical team prepared for the transport of the child and his support systems. They had to first beam over to the *Bethesda* to be sure their confinement fields were adequate to maintain any possible breaches by the child's nanites. After an hour, they were finally prepared for transport.

Carmichael supervised the entire procedure, receiving information and giving orders to both his teams and the engineering teams over on the *Bethesda*.

Mayla had considered communicating with the chid one last time, but felt it was better that she didn't. The last time she communicated with him, a Vulcan katra was transferred into her. Who knows what else might happen.

"Ready," Carmichael announced. He glanced over to Mayla who gave him a nod. They all watched the monitors closely. "On my mark, three, two, one, energize."

The large containment chamber that was still behind the camouflage shielding began to swirl in a transporter beam, creating waves of light in the ceiling and walls. In a few seconds, the entire apparatus was gone. Mayla was standing besides Carmichael when one of her programs activated in her eyes. She took a few steps back as she saw it was her nanite admin program alerting her. Her whole body tingled this time, the program relaying to her immediate status information.

And then the voice. "Goodbye, VreeMayla."

Despite herself, she started and rubbed her arms of the tingling feeling that went away as soon as transport was complete. But now there was a different lingering feeling that caused her a moment's pause. She watched the nanite admin program displaying nominal information, but she seemed to be looking into herself and not the status levels.

"Transport complete, *Resurrection*. We have the chamber and all systems show nominal." *Bethesda* reported. "Containment fields are holding, and we are monitoring the subject."

Carmichael tapped his badge. "*Resurrection* confirms. Be sure the confinement field strength doesn't fall below the seven nanometer threshold. Good luck."

"Thanks. *Bethesda*, out."

"Carmichael to the Bridge, package has been transferred." He gestured to a small team of engineers forward to scan and sterilize the area just in case any nanites were left behind. He wasn't going to take any chances there were. After the area was cleared, he then started giving orders on the breakdown of equipment left behind to restore the cargo bay to normal functioning. Several more people were called in to begin shutting down the portable equipment and putting them back into storage. Several containers were brought in as the camouflage screen was disassembled quickly and stored.

"Sir, the Commander," one of the engineers said to him, nodding over to Mayla. He looked at her and noticed the blank stare on her face. "She's been standing there like that ever since beam out."

Thompson overheard and also glanced over. Noticing something was amiss, he stepped up with Carmichael who walked over to her slowly.

"Commander?" Carmichael asked. When she didn't respond, he reached out and touched her arm. She blinked out of her reverie and then looked at him.

"Lieutenant Commander." She said, then looking around as if in a daze. "Daryl."

"Are you okay?" Thompson asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." Mayla said, almost stammering. "Are we done here?"

"The cargo bay is back to normal. I've already informed the bridge of it." Carmichael said.

Thompson watched her carefully as he'd never seen her this confused before. Mayla Vree had always exuded composure and poise even in the most chaotic of situations. "Do you need to go to sickbay? I can go with you."

Mayla held up her hand. "No. I can manage." Without another word, she left the cargo bay just as the Bridge announced Black Alert.

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.16

McCulloch began to reconsider Jahkar’s advice of replacing the TR-116 rifle with a more modern sniper weapon. Since the start of the training simulation, the Scot found he had to occasionally re-sight the TR’s targeting scope because his shots were one to three millimeters off target to the right. He noted that he never experienced this much hassle with his sporting rifle he used back home on Caldos.

From his vantage point on a small, rocky hill approximately 600 meters from the bunker, McCulloch was able to observe the activities of the Romulan terrorists. He knew six targets were still active and continuously on the move. Two Romulans had positioned themselves behind a crop of boulders while four others were advancing towards an outbuilding near the bunker entrance. The Scot instantly recognized the tactic. The two entrenched in the rocks would open fire as soon as Jahkar and his team exited the bunker, forcing the operatives towards the outbuilding, where the remaining four would ambush them.

Will scanned to the left and saw the four terrorists advancing towards the outbuilding. He slowly moved his targeting scope onto the Romulan leading the pack and waited.

“Phoenix 10, tell me you got them?” Jahkar asked over the subcomm.

“Three, stand by.” McCulloch responded quietly before squeezing the trigger. There was a soft puff followed by the Romulan’s neck bursting open. Green blood sputtered as the Scot’s victim collapsed. The remaining three terrorists stopped in their tracks and started to look around in confusion. The Scot wasted no time. A second target crumpled to the ground as the TR-116 projectile slammed into her head. McCulloch studied the surviving pair of Romulans as they herded together for safety. Will smiled to himself as he patiently toyed with his rifle scope, studied his targets one last time and squeezed the trigger. The shot passed through the forehead of his first target and slammed into the chest of the second. Both slumped silently to the ground.

“Phoenix 3 this is 10. Four targets eliminated. You still have two targets on your flank and I cannot get a clear shot. Stand by for covering fire.” McCulloch reported as he stood up, slung his TR-116 over his shoulder and unslung the TR-390 rifle Jahkar insisted that he carry.

The Scot paused momentarily to bend over, catch his breath and stretch his back out. He cursed softly, brought the rifle up to the ready and advanced on the crop of boulders. When he closed to within 100 meters of the targets, he contacted Jahkar.

“Phoenix 3...go!”

The Scot quickly walked forward as he squeezed the trigger of his TR-390 rifle, spraying the rocks with covering fire.

Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*/Holodeck

Stardate 2101.17

As McCulloch rained down cover fire, Sh’avelith and Jahkar heard from Thompson. The dampening field was down.

When Daryl came back up out of the bunker and they were together, they gathered the diplomats close as Jahkar raised Resurrection on the comm.

“Phoenix Squad ready for transport,” he announced.

“The Romulans are moving!” Tiri called out as she watched and saw the two remaining Romulans break from their cover and make for the bunker...one firing upwards at McCulloch’s position while the other started toward the bunker, an activated grenade in his hand.

Tiri raised her rifle as Jahkar readied the diplomats and she trained it squarely on the Romulan’s chest. She squeezed off a shot and the phaser blast pierced through his torso, flipping him backwards.

The grenade then detonated, the debris from the surrounding dirt and rock spraying across the bunker entrance and pelting the Shadow operatives and the rescued diplomats. A couple meters closer and they might have all been dead...in a holodeck sense.

She heard the report of the TR-116 and noticed the shooting by the other Romulan ceased. Tiri then felt the familiar feeling of the transporter as they were beamed out for the warzone…

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.18

As soon as they were beamed out, the holodeck program ended and Jahkar, Tiri, Daryl and McCulloch found themselves standing in the empty holodeck aboard Resurrection. Jahkar pulled off his helmet and looked around at his team as environmental conditions went from harsh desert terrain to a cool, spartan starship interior.

“Nice shooting,” Jahkar said to McCulloch. “Daryl, good job on finding the dampening field and shutting it down. Tiri, that last shot was on the mark. We got in, took down the dampening field and evaced without injuries or losses among the diplomatic team. Outstanding.”

At that moment the Black Alert was signaled throughout *Resurrection* and Jahkar looked to William, “You may want to hold on. If you’ve never experienced a jump with the coaxial drive, this will be most educational.”

There was a momentary feeling like the entire ship had been turned upside down and then it was over.

“What was that?” McCulloch asked.

“Experimental warp drive,” Jahakr informed him. “Called a coaxial drive. We just jumped from our location outside the Klingon border to Vulcan.”

McCulloch looked at Jahkar in disbelief. “That’s...not possible.”

“Welcome to the future, commander,” Jahkar grinned. “I’ll let Lazarus or Carmichael explain the quantum physics involved. I don’t fully understand. I’m told we can jump anywhere in the galaxy as long as there are starcharts. If we don’t know for certain what we’re jumping into, it's really bad. Like materializing inside a planet or a star bad.”

Jahkar started toward the door, “Great job. I’ll go over the replays later and let you each know individually how you did. Meanwhile, since we’re at Vulcan, we’d better change and see what the captain and admiral have in store for us.”

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Admiral Ian MacLeod

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.13

MacLeod and Lazarus were on the bridge when *Resurrection* arrived in orbit around Vulcan. They immediately noted the presence of an unusual number of Starfleet ships and MacLeod gave a smirk.

“All here for Sorvek’s funeral, no doubt,” the Scot laughed. “He touched many lives, even from the shadows.”

Lazarus checked the incoming scans and nodded, “*USS Resolution* is here. The presidential starship. That was the ship that took Jack Dark to Ops Base One.”

“It will be carrying Sorvek’s remains,” MacLeod nodded. “And a new president, I assume.”

“The vice president has been named acting president,” Lt. Darht confirmed, checking incoming newsfeeds. “The Federation Council is calling for immediate elections.’

MacLeod nodded, “Makes sense. Any other news?”

Darht looked up from his holographic display, “Admiral Janeway has announced she’s stepping down as head of Starfleet. Admiral Kirsten Clancy has been named as her replacement.”

“Is Janeway retiring?” Lazarus asked.

“It doesn’t say,” Darht confirmed. “The newsfeed just says she’s stepping down to allow an easy transition in the wake of recent events involving the president and the threat by Legion.”

“Is there anything else?” MacLeod asked as Darht continued scanning the newsfeed.

“A message from Commodore Oh,” Darht said. “We’ve all been ordered to debrief with Starfleet. Oh and a team from Starfleet Intelligence has arrived at Vulcan. They’re asking for MacLeod, Lazarus and Vree for immediate debrief, followed by the Shadow Ops team and then the general crew.”

MacLeod looked to Lazarus, “I suppose that was inevitable.”

Lazarus nodded, “They’ll want to talk to everyone, I get it. Where do they want us?”

“They have arranged for facilities to use on Vulcan,” Darht said.

Lazarus stood from his chair and straightened his uniform, “I’ll get Mayla. We’ll meet you in the transporter room.”

MacLeod offered a nod as he turned on his heels and headed to the turbolift. Lazarus made the walk to the med bay where he found Mayla resting. When he stepped through the door, he saw her on a biobed and approached, “Commander, we’re at Vulcan. We’re being summoned for a debriefing with Commodore Oh. You, MacLeod and I are to go first. Are you feeling up to it?”

Mayla had watched the Captain walk into sickbay and made a beeline to her biobed. She pushed aside a padd when he queried her. "Commodore Oh?"

"She's been given command of Starfleet Intelligence. At least our division." Lazarus looked at her biomonitors. "You ready to return to duty?"

"As I said yesterday, I think I've been resting for long enough." She sat up in the bed and swung her legs over the side. "You get my report on the *Rotarran* and the prototype fighter we have in the cargo bay?"

"I did. It'll be included with your after actions report. Good work getting us that fighter."

"I don't know what Oh is going to think about me stealing something like that, and from the Chancellor, no less."

"Martok is dead. And I'm going to assume you made it look like it was destroyed."

"I did what I could." She got off the bed and got her footing. The work she was doing while in bed helped her with keeping Sorvek consciousness at bay. But getting back to real work, she should be fine. "I'll go get changed and meet you in the transporter room."

Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2101.18

*She ignored the beautiful sunset that poured orange light across the rocky plains below. The soft breeze blew across the patio, rustling her robes as she sat on a stool in front of a play table playing flashcard formula games with the computer. Her intense focus was on the flashcards that came quickly, and she had to respond as fast as she could with what the formula was for. Some even referred to ones that she had already responded to and had to connect the two formulas together in some type of context also provided by the computer. She tried to ignore the smell of the redspice her mother was using in their special treat for dinner that night; jumbo mollusk. It almost distracted her from the next three formulae that appeared. She'd never seen one of them before, but for some reason, she was able to relate the three together somehow without hesitation. Her small fingers danced on the panel on the tabletop solving logic puzzles one after another as fast as the computer could give them to her. She had no idea how she was doing this, as if she was watching an unseen force moving her hands to perform these actions.*

*"Sorvek, wipe your shoes and come in for an evening meal." she heard her mother call out from just inside the doorway. "Your father will be home soon. He is looking forward to teaching you how to play kal-toh this evening."*

*She looked down at her small hands before answering in a boy's voice that sounded natural to her as if it were her own. "Yes, Mother." She shut off the tabletop and rose to her feet. Wiping her shoes on the entry rug, she passed a reflection in a window that showed a Vulcan boy with evenly cut hair looking back at her.*

"Mayla?"

Mayla blinked and looked towards the voice. It was Jahkar in his combat gear. "Are you alright?"

She turned towards him and nodded. "Yes. I was just heading to the transporter room."

He smiled at her. The Bridge had just announced they had arrived at Vulcan and some of the crew were preparing to beam down to be debriefed by Starfleet Intelligence.

"You were staring at that computer panel as if you were in another place."

Mayla gave him a sad frown. "I think I may have been...daydreaming, of sorts."

Jahkar nodded with understanding, thinking she was displaying sorrow for the loss of Sorvek. "We've known Sorvek for a long time."

"Most of my life, it seems."

"We all feel his loss." Jahkar put a hand on her shoulder, knowing it may be especially difficult for her as Bravo Squad had reported directly to Sorvek since inception. "We'll all get through this."

"It will be an adjustment." She gave him an uncertain smile and straightened her red dress uniform, making sure her padd was in one of her pockets. "Let's see if I survive a debriefing with the Starfleet brass first."

Jahkar patted her on the shoulder. "Yeah, us too. Good luck."

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.21

The admiral and captain were waiting on the transporter pad when the doors to the transporter bay slid open and Mayla Vree walked in. She made her way onto the pad beside them and turned to look straight ahead.

“As soon as we’re done with this bloody debriefing, you are cleared to visit the temple,”

MacLeod told her. “The sooner you get Sorvek’s katra out of your head, the better it will be.”

Lazarus nodded, “I hope they don’t have a million questions. I already sent over my report, I don’t see where I’d have much more to add.”

MacLeod smiled at the transporter operator, “Energize.”

They were enveloped in the swirling lights of the transporter and a moment later, the rematerialized in an open courtyard in the middle of a complex of buildings, the bright, hot Vulcan sun blazing overhead. All three officers felt the arid wind blowing against their faces as they found themselves on the surface of Sorvek’s homeworld.

Nearby, Admiral Kathryn Janeway, Commodore Oh and Admiral Kirsten Clancy stood by, waiting for the trio of Shadow Operation top officers to appear.

It was Janeway who stepped forward first, “Ian, Quentin and Commander Vree,” she said, shaking hands with each. “Welcome to Vulcan.”

“Admiral,” MacLeod said. “I thought you were leaving?”

She smiled, “I’ve stepped down, but Admiral Clancy asked me to be present for the debriefing since I was overseeing operations at the time of the Legion mission.”

“Are you retiring?” he asked.

“No,” Janeway responded. “I wasn’t asked to leave. I felt it was the right thing to do, considering I served as Head of Starfleet under Gant’s administration.”

MacLeod bristled, “You had no way of knowing, Kathryn. Hell, the day I beamed him back from the Repulse, moments before it’s warp core breached, I thought he was Aaron Gant.”

“Still,” she said. “I’m going to be overseeing deep space exploration operations for now. Admiral Clancy felt it best suited me, considering my resume.”

As if it were her cue to make an introduction, Clancy stepped forward. Janeway motioned toward the new head of Starfleet, “Admiral MacLeod, Captain Lazarus, meet Admiral Clancy.”

“I believe we met at a conference at Starfleet Command, about 12 years ago,” MacLeod said, shaking Clancy’s hand.

“I remember,” she said, an amused look on her face. “You bought me drinks at the officer’s lounge afterwards while trying to explain the finer points of counter-intelligence. It was an interesting evening.”

MacLeod smiled and looked over to Lazarus, who simply rolled his eyes at the Shadow Ops commanding officer.

“This is Commodore Oh,” she added, motioning toward the Vulcan who stood nearby. Oh simply gave MacLeod and the other two officers a nod. “You must be Captain Lazarus and you are Commander Mayla Vree.”

"We are, Admiral," Lazarus said. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you."

Mayla gave both admirals a nod in greeting and shook both of their hands. She herself didn't know either Clancy or Oh, but for some reason, access to Sorvek's memories of both women wasn't readily accessible to her at the moment. It was a strange sensation to have an absence of one. She would think Sorvek would have at least heard of them.

Oh looked at the three Shadow Ops crew and gestured to one of the buildings. "If you would follow me, I have secured us an office we can meet in. Then we could begin."

The debriefing was mostly routine. Oh seemed to ask the most questions, -- establishing a timeline of the events that took place, comparing details in all three officers’ reports and questioning orders that were given, why they were given and who gave them.

Finally, they got down to the bottom line of the entire operation.

“I see here you procured the Charghw’l’s phased cloaking device?” Oh asked, he eyes falling on Vree. “Captain Lazarus authorized that?”

Lazarus nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

Oh considered both officers a moment, then gave a slight nod of her head, “Good job. There has been no indication from the Klingons that they are aware of this. Did you have reason to believe otherwise.”

Lazarus looked to MacLeod and it was the admiral who replied, “Actually, Chancellor Martok gave an indication he knew.”

“An indication?” Oh asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the Scot responded.

“What kind of an indication?”

“He said, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘I know you took that phased cloak. You’d better get out of here before anyone else figures it out’.”

Oh raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“Yes commodore,” MacLeod said.

“Did he tell anyone else?”

“Not to our knowledge, commodore,” MacLeod said. “He seemed to believe it would not be in the best interest of relations between our governments if he said anything. He also gave us a warning moments before he died. He said the mood in the empire was one of restlessness. That the Federation should not expect peace to continue once he was gone. There are many in the empire who are ready to test the limitations of the peace between our governments.”

Clancy looked at the Scot and then she exchanged glances with Oh. “We are aware of the hostilities among some in the Klingon Empire. They have many…complaints...with our alliance. The coming months and the selection of a new chancellor will tell us more about where that relationship stands. As Commodore Oh indicated, good work with the phased cloak. Have it transferred to my command ship before you leave Vulcan.”

Oh looked around at the three operatives, “That is all we have for now. You are dismissed. I will take your operatives one at a time, send them along in any order.”

“Dismissed, “Clancy told them.

As the three exited the conference room, they exchanged looks and it was Lazarus who spoke once they were out of earshot. “No mention of what happens to us after this?”

MacLeod sighed, “Oh, Quentin, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. For now, we have to remember an old friend. Mayla, go tend to your business at Mt. Seleya. We’ll see you at the funeral.”

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.18

As he struggled with the frock, Will reminded himself just how much he really hated those damn dress uniforms. After some difficulty, the Scot finished getting dressed and stood in front of a mirror. He stared at himself for a few moments in sullen silence. It was only a few days ago he was the chief executive officer of one of the most successful and powerful intelligence firms outside of Starfleet. Now, he had returned to the Shadow Operations program and admittedly, McCulloch had no idea what the future held for him.

The sting of discovering Taryn Kane’s true fate only added to his confusion and made him question his judgement and sanity. MacLeod had mentioned repeatedly that Sorvek had plans for him … but what?

McCulloch’s brooding and hard reflection were interrupted with the repeated chirp of his door chime.

“Enter!” The Scot barked. A female Trill ensign entered his quarters and handed him a pair of padds.

“Sir, Admiral MacLeod ordered me to forward this information to you.” She announced coldly.

“Thank you, Ensign. Dismissed.” Will replied with a wave of his hand as he opened up the files on the padds.

“Traitorous bastard.” The ensign muttered softly as she spun around and exited the Scot’s quarters. McCulloch watched her leave but chose not to say anything in response to the insubordinate remark. He turned his attention back to the PADDs. As he scanned the information from MacLeod, he cursed out loud several times.

The first padd notified McCulloch that the *USS Attenborough*’s first officer, Victoria Smith, would be attending Sorvek’s funeral. MacLeod sternly advised, in writing no less, that McCulloch was to be on his best behavior and not interact with her if possible.

The Scot cursed again and tossed the padd across the room in frustration. Sorvek’s funeral was going to be difficult enough but now with his ex-wife \*and\* Commander Vree both attending, the service was going to be very long and strenuous to say the least.

Will exhaled loudly and started to review the second PADD. He started to laugh and curse at the same time and then dropped the device to the floor.

MacLeod’s second order informed him that Inverness’ executive team...his executive team … had requested and received permission to attend the funeral as well. The Scot was instructed not to let Shess, Wenn and Sarah anywhere near classified or restricted sites during or after the service.

He knew Shess and Wenn were going to bury him with legal documents and executive orders transferring oversight of the intelligence firm to the Andorian, but he was more concerned about Sarah. In their last communication Pickering had professed feelings for him and knowing the woman, she would likely move in for the kill after the funeral.

The Scot looked around the room and finally barked an order. “Computer, locate my bottles of Whiskey!”

“The bottles cannot be located as a *Resurrection* security team destroyed them on Admiral MacLeod’s orders.” The computer reported.

McCulloch sighed and shook his head in frustration. “This is going to be one hell of a ride,” he announced to himself as he exited his quarters and proceeded to the transporter room.

As he entered the room, he saw Commander Vree, Captain Lazarus and Admiral MacLeod all speaking with each other as they stood on the transporter padd. The Scot instinctively turned 180 degrees and left to wait outside in the hallway.

Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2101.22

Ryramorl stepped into Command Oh’s office, and saluted smartly.  He explained he had been Colonel Jahkar, and their job had been to blow up the ship.  He and Jahkar had also faced Jack Dark, and that the two of them had killed the man.

Commander Oh narrowed his eyes.  “Are you sure he was dead?  This is an individual who escaped a ship blowing itself apart and posed for years as Aaron Gant.”

“Sir.  Cause of death was complete dismemberment, sir,”

Commander Oh blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“Sir.  My status and abilities as a berserker are a matter of public record.  I tore him to pieces, starting with brute force decapitation. I assure you he is dead, sir.”

Oh looked at Ryramorl for a moment and for a split second she had an almost amused look on her face…not a very Vulcan reaction, something that looked more like a Romulan.

But then the look faded and Oh raised an eyebrow. “Regardless, you ended the threat Mr. Dark caused and I am not going to question the means in which you accomplished this. I will only say this, you would be well-served to learn to control that rage. The next time you take someone’s head off, it may not be dismissed so easily.”

Oh finished typing some information into her PADD, then looked to Ryramorl, “You are excused, lieutenant. Carry on.”

Head of Carnora Special Forces Hworyal Andruvar in the South Arnor Hills

The Overseer

Zarza Horlasavarsavar

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin in the Danro Mountains

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.18

Comm Officer Janash Horlasavarsavar looked up from his console at a slender figure in all-concealing armour.  "We have acknowledgement of our arrival from Vulcan High Command, Captain.  We may depart to the surface at your discretion."

Hworyal Andruvar, the head of Carnora Special Forces, had personally captained this ship, as their honoured passenger was none other than the Overseer of the Antevas System, the Khyrrian personally responsible for watching over the Carnora.  "We are ready when you are, Hallowed One.”

"Excellent.  Prepare the shuttle." The slender figure reached out one armored hand to touch the arm of a wizened Muran who lay on a litter.  The Muran's grizzled face wrinkled into a smile as he looked up at the Overseer of the Antevas System.  Six strong Murans lifted the litter and followed the Overseer to the shuttle.

When they reached the ground, they met with the Vulcan delegation sent to meet them.  Hworyal gave them the formal Vulcan Greeting and introduced himself, then introduced them to the Overseer, the ancient Muran Zarza Horlasavarsavar (the last surviving member of the crew who had made First Contact with the Federation), and finally to the Murans who bore the bedridden Muran's litter.

The elderly Muran feebly raised a paw in the Vulcan Salute and shakily whispered, "Live long and prosper."  The armoured Overseer raised both his right arms in a similar salute, echoing the words.

As they were guided towards where the funeral would take place, they met with Rygaran.  Rygaran made a motion, but the Overseer stopped him.  "Rygaran D'Hronarin in the Danro Mountains, I appreciate your piety, but this is no time for religious observances.  Let us instead give our honours to the deceased."

"As you will, Hallowed One."

Back to top

## S3, E2, Act 6: The Climb

Carnora Delegation

Lt. Ryramorl Ra'yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Commander Mayla Vree

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.18

Ryramorl and Reepchip waited in the same courtyard MacLeod, Lazarus, and Vree had been escorted into one of the buildings to be debriefed. After a while, the three walked out together discussing something serious it seemed.

Then at the same moment, Ryramorl and Reepchip saw an armored Carnora step out from a public transporter station, then another, and another, each one taking up sentry positions around it, until the one they seemed to be escorting came through, followed by another three similarly armored Carnora, then a group carrying a litter.

"...Hallowed One," said Ryramorl in awe.

Admiral MacLeod and Commander Vree also saw the Carnora entourage come through the transporter station but didn't take much note of it. Until Lazarus and Vree stopped short when they saw Ryramorl and Reepchip staring at the group and wondered what made the two Carnora struck still like statues. A tall, very thin armoured being looked towards the two Carnora Shadow Operatives, then came towards them. Clearly, it (he?) was important, because leading his escort was none other than Hworyal Andruvar in the South Arnor Hills, head of Carnora Special Forces and the other guards had strange, blinking headbands--something none of the Federation operatives had ever seen Carnora have.

"First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La'an Tribe of the Ra'yral. Reepchip, House of Chara, Clan of Tet. I greet you," responded the being in an ambiguously masculine voice that sounded like it had an underlying resonant tone as he grasped Reepchip’s paws with his two left hands, and Ryramorl’s with his two right. He then turned his visored head to look at Admiral MacLeod.  "Vice Admiral Ian Conner MacLeod. It is good to see you again, and this time in person, though I wish it were under happier circumstances."

Ryramorl blinked. "’See him again’, Hallowed One?" he asked.

"It was I who gave him permission to set foot on Carnor itself," responded the being.

The being turned to Mayla Vree. "And may I be introduced to her?"

Reepchip stepped forwards to introduce the Overseer to Mayla Vree. "Commander, this is the Hallowed Overseer of the Antevas System, appointed to his office by the Khyrrians Themselves, rulers of the Messengers. Hallowed One, this is Commander Mayla Vree, to whom your humble servant is assigned."

"Greetings, Commander," the being said. “I trust Our Children have served you well?"

Memories flashed through Mayla’s head: Sorvek had met this being before when he’d had been but a commander, sent to investigate a strange craft that suddenly appeared in the Neutral Zone. An unknown battleship appeared soon after, and the two ships had a tense standoff, only defused when the two ships decoded each other’s transmissions. This being--who introduced himself as The Overseer--explained that the probe belonged to his race, he was here to retrieve it at all costs, and he wasn’t happy that the probe had been found by someone else.  After some negotiation, Sorvek had not only convinced The Overseer to allow the Federation ship to depart, but also to allow an official First Contact between the Carnora and the Federation.

Mayla bowed respectfully as Sorvek had done so long ago. "They have, Hallowed One."

"I'm surprised to see you here," said Ian MacLeod, respectfully.

"It is only right to pay my last respects to the one with whom the Carnora made their true First Contact," said the being. Seeing the officers’ puzzled looks, the Overseer turned to Reepchip and Ryramorl. "You have my permission to tell them in full, but wait until after the ceremony."

Reepchip spoke briefly with the wizened Muran, then introduced him as Shaman-Engineer Zarza Horlasavarsavar, the last surviving member of the Carnora crew that had made that unofficial, undocumented First Contact.

Zarza raised his grizzled head, greeting her politely.  Then his eyes narrowed a bit as if he was examining something--then he nodded in understanding. “Hallowed One,” he said, in a weak voice, “she has a task yet to do.” He then turned towards Mayla Vree. “Farewell, Sorvek.  May your walk in the Otherworld be a joy.”  He feebly gave a Vulcan Salute. “I shall join you soon.”  His eyes seemed to focus on Mayla.  “And blessed are you, Commander Mayla Vree, to be given this task, and be you, for performing it.”

Commander Mayla Vree

Base of Mount Seleya, Vulcan

Stardate 2101.24

She materialized alone at the bottom of the extremely long flight of stone steps carved into the side of Mount Seleya that wound all the way to the top. Behind her was the narrow footbridge most pilgrimage journeyers would walk across, but she didn't have that sort of time to walk all the way from the only shuttleport and public transporter station several kilometers away. It was already going to take time for her to climb the steps that led to the mountaintop. Usually there were always people making the pilgrimage. But today it seemed there were only a handful of people carefully crossing the footbridge behind her. She looked up through the reddish-orange haze to try to see the large cone shaped structure at the top of the mountain that was the entry into the temple, which would eventually lead to the Halls of Ancient Thought. But at that height, she could only see the high altar that jutted out from the temple entrance. It will take a few hours for her to get to the top.

A short gust of wind rushed down the mountain side, blowing the reddish dust around to occasionally reduce visibility to mere meters in the late afternoon sun. The Vulcan ceremonial mask and robe she wore to hide her identity filtered out the dust and provided cool fresh air for her to consume. Slightly adjusting the hood of her cloak over her head, she approached the short line of people where two male acolytes stood at the foot of the thousands step climb. Making note of the robe she was wearing, one of them gestured to her to come forward ahead of those in line. She held up her hand with the Vulcan gesture of salutation.

"I am Mayla, Keeper of the katra of Sorvek, son of Sydar." She said in fluent Vulcan. "I request audience to lay his katra at peace." She performed a hand ritual that had been passed down. A slight variant indicated to them that she was not a Vulcan Keeper of a katra.

The acolyte acknowledged her with his own Vulcan salutation gesture before bowing once. "Your service honors us, Keeper of the living spirit of a brother Vulcan. You are expected. When you reach the temple, High Priestess T'Shin will ordain if the katra is worthy of admittance into the great hall. Our sister adepts will greet you at the temple entry and instruct you further." He handed her a canteen of water and then bowed once.

Mayla returned the bow and headed for the first stone step towards the right. She made note that the three-meter-wide steps only had a carved handrail on the mountain side. The other side was an open precipice to the bottom of the mountain and into the lava flows. The fear of falling off suddenly gripped her mind and chest as a strong memory burst into the forefront in her mind. As a child, Sorvek had been taken off the steps in a sudden gale of hot wind. If it weren't for the quick reflexes of his mother who caught him by his cloak and pulled him back onto the steps, he would have had an untimely flight several thousand meters to the bottom.

She let out a shuddering breath to settle her suddenly active reflex memory. She removed her boots slowly and placed them upside down into a shelf compartment built into the mountain side. But even so, the whirling dust would still accumulate some inside. She pushed aside the debriefing with Commodore Oh and cleared her mind, focusing on the task at hand.

With a reverent pause, she placed one barefoot on the first step. Her other barefoot on the next step. And she began her journey up Mount Seleya barefooted, as many Vulcans do while on pilgrimage. It is the only way allowed to ascend the mountain according to Vulcan tradition.

The stone steps felt smooth beneath her feet, worn smooth by the millions of feet that came before her. It only had a slight grit from the constant blowing of dust and ash from the planet's constant eruptions. Usually the pilgrimage began from the shuttleport to the east, where depending on the time of year, hundreds of Vulcans would make the trek. The journey became more treacherous when they reached the narrow footbridge over a high chasm of flowing lava to get to where she was now. Because she wasn't Vulcan, nor on a pilgrimage, it was satisfactory enough for her to begin her journey at the bottom of the thousands of steps. But it was more of respect to do this rather than to just beam directly to the temple entrance. The High Priestess would frown upon that action as an act of disrespect for Vulcan customs and tradition. She was carrying a Vulcan katra after all. She should try to honor the customs as best she can under the circumstances.

The steps continued to be smooth as she continued up without losing balance or slipping once with the occasional wind gust that came from whichever direction it so well pleased. She noticed for every hundred meters higher she ascended; the wind began to be buffeting more often. Even in the increasing sound of the wind, she could hear chimes and bells echoing from the ceremonial groves below as the steps wound her to another side of the mountain. The rhythmic chimes and bells had a cadence to it, making one step at a time more repetitive and methodical.

She passed several others climbing the steps in their stoic Vulcan nature, not paying any attention to her as they ascended their own journey to the temple. Some maybe for various beliefs of enlightenment through their logic-based upbringing. Each looked to be in deep contemplation as they focused on one step after another on the long hike.

The sun, now in late afternoon, still provided plenty of light. But at the bottom of the mountain in the darkening valleys and groves, several spots of lights already began appearing as monks and acolytes prepared for whatever rituals they performed for their own sect. She didn't stop to take in the sights, or even to enjoy the craggy mountain range that spanned the entire horizon. Winding towards the peak of the mountain, the view to her right of the valley floor began to recede further down the higher she got.

The running tricorder at her belt continuously sent its information to her eyes to provide her with an augmented false image to keep her on track, and from falling off the steps. The orange dust and ash constantly wafted around her softly and began to stain her robes the same color as the stone she was walking on. The glow of the sky occasionally darkened as a cloud of thick dust and smoke took to the air from the molten lava flowing far below. She knew when night fell and the atmospheric temperature dropped, high winds would develop here from the temperature differential. The descent later will be more treacherous in the dark. A childhood friend of Sorvek's had died falling off these very same steps.

One step followed another. And another. And another. She didn't keep track how long it took her, but the setting sun was touching the tallest peaks across the range when she finally reached the top. By now her robe was fluttering in a whipping wind that was cooler than the valley floor beneath her. Her first view was the vista across the jagged mountain range was void of any vegetation as far as the eye could see in the dimming light. Orange dust still glowed in the entire region as if the entire planet was a hot forge ready to smelt metal.

She turned around and looked at the tall cone shaped temple entrance that was opened wide and beckoning to visitors who made the long trek up. The temple was large enough to house several dozen ceremonial chambers and sanctuaries for various rituals and chapels for meditations. Around the vast entrance were a small host of female adepts, the Sisterhood, who tended to the High Priestess in all matters, including mental healing. They had begun lighting torches to illuminate the high altar she was now standing at. Taking slow measured steps ahead, Mayla opened her palms in ritual in accepting their welcome as one of the sisters approached her.

"Enter," she beckoned and made note of Mayla's robe before nodding with consent. "Because you are not Vulcan, we can only convey our gratitude for your journey with respect to our customs." She gestured to another woman. "Sister Nurren will take you to chambers so you may prepare yourself to meet with High Priestess T'Shin."

Mayla put her hands together in a Vulcan meditation hand gesture and bowed once. She followed Nurren slowly and silently into the temple while passing several large stone heads, shrines, and personal altars and alcoves for private meditations. Nurren showed her into a circular, windowless room lit only with candles illuminating a spartan amount of furniture.

"You may bathe and wash the dust off in here. We have provided a ceremonial robe for you. Put it on and nothing else but the ceremonial mask, which you also must cleanse." She said with an accent that suggested she was from one of the coastal cities in the Raal Province. "When you are ready, ring this bell by the door, and I will escort you to meet with the High Priestess."

"Thank you." Mayla responded in Vulcan and bowed once, making sure she conveyed the respect the facility demanded. "I will do as you say."

The door closed behind Nurren softly, leaving only the few dozen candles to illuminate the medium sized stone walled room. She looked around and took in the room's measure. To the right of the door was a small pool carved into the rocky floor for her to bathe in. The constant water flowed through a recycler that made it look like an everlasting wading pool. There were oils that were excreting from stones that lined the pool, making the water shimmer in the candlelight and fill the room with the smell of the flower from a Vulcan favinit plant.

Opposite the door was a simple stone framed platform with a thin cushion on top that resembled a bed. Atop the made bed was a clean black robe, ornately embroidered with several runes and incantations in ancient Vulcan.

To the left of the door was a full-length mirror that reflected the candlelight to various spaces in the room. The top portion of the mirror's frame was decorated with mineral crystals that threw flickering starlight across the four-meter-high ceiling with every flicker of a candle.

To her surprise, the temperature inside was temperament. At least for a Trill. She took off all of her clothes and put them on the bed neatly folded. Taking in a deep breath of the scented water, she settled into the warm pool and sat down into it. With a washcloth that was neatly folded beside the pool, she wiped herself down slowly, letting the scent of the flower fill her senses. She'd never smelled this flower before. And just as quickly as she thought that, the sudden memory revealed itself as Sorvek had smelled this fragrance in his mother's hair when he was a child.

After sitting in the pool for about ten minutes to let the oils soak into her skin, she reminisced about Vulcan culture and traditions she now knew through Sorvek. She felt very relaxed and her mind was calmed down even, making her contemplative. She began to hear a voice humming in her memory. A tune she'd never heard of before, but the image of a human woman was associated with the song. It sounded like a methodical progression of a child's melody. It ran through in her mind a few times, but each time was a different memory. She began to hum it outloud and it gave her intense focus, alertness, and clarity of mind she'd never had before. Sorvek's wife, Megan, hummed it to her two children when they became anxious at a puzzle they had difficulty with. It put them into a lapse of mind to focus, and it always seemed to work. She remembered now, Sorvek's mother had taught it to Megan.

Her eyes opened and suddenly the room's details seemingly became more enhanced. The way the flickering candles wavered in a certain patterned direction with the rest of the room, the way the water lapped from the small waterfall feeding the pool, the shimmering colors of the oils in the water, the intricate stonework of the walls, and the even the fragrant smells of the oils, water, candle wax, dust, ash, metal, wood, and maybe even the candle flames themselves.

She took a deep breath, savoring what seemed like her enhanced senses were taking in before letting it out. Now feeling refreshed and clean of dust and ash from the climb, she took a larger towel and dried herself off. The scented oils made her skin glow in the candlelight and put off a pleasant fragrance. She rubbed the oil from her hair but was pleasantly surprised when the oils seemed to evaporate from it. She picked up the robe on the bed, taking note that though the robe was black, it strangely reflected the candlelight brightly in the dimly lit room as if it was self-illuminating. She pulled it on, feeling the softness of the fabric against her skin before fastening the clasps of the robe front. The feeling of the fabric brought about another gentle memory. This time of a soft blanket wrapped around Sorvek's first child, Soloth.

Using the towel, she dried herself off with, she wiped down the mask and the oils collected in the towel made the details shine bright as if polished. She took one last look around the room before fitting the mask over her face. In Vulcan tradition, the one carrying the katra of the deceased can choose to remain anonymous to protect them from having to encounter anyone from the deceased's life. It allows the Keeper to continue to live their own lives without the life of the deceased to intrude. But this was mostly for the trek to the temple. The high priestess would remove it when the ritual began.

When she felt she was ready, she pulled on the rope attached to a bell hanging by the door. It rang softly with a tingle and in an instant, the door opened to show Nurren waiting for her. She walked around Mayla once, checking to be sure all was in place and neat with her robe and hood before beckoning Mayla to follow. Without a word, she did so and noticed that the floors and walls were all devoid of any dust that she had brought in with her. In fact, everything inside the temple was spotless and dust free. Even the smell of the molten rock didn't permeate the halls here.

Mayla was led to an intimate chamber, where she saw the High Priestess T'Shin seated with her hands folded patiently in her lap. The floors and walls were lined with tapestries depicting various scenes of history. Above was an artificial chandelier that mimicked candles that lit up the entire room. There were various tables with bottles and jars of liquids and powders. Incense was burning in the room, probably having been constantly renewed and burning for hundreds of years.

The High Priestess T'Shin of the Halls of Ancient Thought was an older Vulcan woman of at least 100 years old. She was garbed in a decorated black dress robe that was complemented by a modest headdress of a high priestess. She was sitting in a large chair in the center of the room with a shorter chair in front of her. Nurren gestured for Mayla to bow once in acknowledgement so Nurren could announce her.

"High Priestess T'Shin," she said in a traditional Vulcan dialect. "I present to you Mayla, the Keeper of Sorvek, son of Sydar."

T'Shin held up one hand with the Vulcan salutation gesture and the other hand waved to the seat in front of her. "Please sit down."

Mayla returned the hand gesture and obeyed. Once she sat down and was settled in, Nurren left the room. Mayla turned off the displays in her eyes and shut off her subvocal so she could focus solely on the ritual. Her AI would would handle all incoming messages.

"Have you notified Sorvek's family of your condition?"

Mayla shook her head. "I will notify them after the transfer. I want to be sure it goes well before I inform them of anything." She answered in Vulcan. "The funeral is tomorrow."

T'Shin closed her eyes as if in concentration. "You do not wish to give them false hope."

"Under the circumstances that I am not Vulcan, yes."

"But THEY are Vulcan." T'Shin reached out with delicate hands to lift Mayla's hood, then removed the mask to look into her deep lavender eyes. "I see a depth your eyes." She put a few fingers along the side of Mayla's cheek and closed her eyes. "I sense the katra you carry."

"Yes, High Priestess," Mayla acknowledged.

"You speak Vulcan very well for a Trill. Is this from the mind meld with the one called Sorvek?"

"A prior host of mine was an ambassador to Vulcan. But as for fluency, for all intents and purposes, yes. Sorvek told me he must place his katra in me. And I am to take him to this place of restful peace." She left out the fact that this occurred long after he had already died. Mayla nearly became emotional as a sudden pang of his loss reminded her of how he died.

"His katra is…" then she nodded. "...unrounded. He died...unexpectedly." T'Shin commented.

"Yes."

"Violently."

"Yes."

"You are not a Keeper," she stated. "You are a val'reth, one who did not volunteer to be a Keeper."

"I have come to accept it, High Priestess." Mayla said honestly.

"Because you are Trill, you're biology has not suffered as other beings might when becoming a val'reth."

"Yes," Mayla answered. "Just a few memory intrusions."

"Very good." T'Shin cocked her head slowly as if reading a consciousness. Her next words came out slowly and purposefully. "A Starfleet admiral. His life following the path of logic has prevented many battles, averted several wars, inspired many, led many to protect the innocent and unseeing. A noble life but shadowed."

The priestess pondered a moment before she continued, “Unlike many of our people, he came to understand the chaos and the lack of logic experienced by many other races in the Federation. He not only accepted them, but he found it within himself to seek a deeper understanding of their shortcomings. To most Vulcans these examples of illogical behavior can be impossible to comprehend, but Sorvek delved deep into the heart of that which was illogical until he understood it better, rather than just dismissing it.”

"Yes, High Priestess." Mayla responded again. It was one way to sum up the life of Sorvek.

"Has he spoken to you since the transfer?"

"Mostly in the form of memories. Sometimes a calming hand to control my emotions." She said quietly.

T'Shin's eyes opened and she pulled her hand away from Mayla's face. Then she took Mayla's hands into her own. "Mayla, Sorvek is honored. I will ordain him. We will transfer the katra of Sorvek, son of Sydar, into an ark. And he will be placed in the Halls of Ancient Thought amongst the thousands of honored others." She clapped her hands twice, alerting her adepts. "We will proceed to the ceremony chamber."

"Thank you." Mayla said reverently. She allowed herself to be led to another room that was again, well-lit with torches. Inside were six Sisters waiting for her. Nurren gave them instructions as they all quickly started fussing over every crease and fold of her robe before gesturing in the direction they will be heading.

Now T'Shin walked in wearing an elaborate ceremonial robe with a matching headdress. The eight black and red clad priestesses procession began with T'Shin leading, Nurren behind her, three together behind her, then three behind Mayla. The procession moved slowly in step, following the sloped path down into the catacombs of the mausoleum of spirits as some called it. The large room they finally came to was filled with hundreds of candles that provided even lighting throughout.

In the middle of the round stonework room stood a pedestal with an urn sitting atop of it. And just a meter away was an altar table with a pillow at the head. Nurren was instantly by her side, patiently coaching her and telling her what to do. As Mayla laid down on the tabletop, the Sisters fussed over her to make her comfortable.

"Mayla, Nurren will light incense beside you. This incense will put you into a trance to settle your mind so I can isolate Sorvek's katra from your own consciousness. Do not be alarmed if you feel a tickling of the mind."

"I understand."

T'Shin placed a hand on Mayla's forehead as she closed her eyes. A low chanting and murmuring sound surrounded her as the Sisters stood aside in their place. Mayla smelled something sweet and it reminded her of the blooming flowers in a place called Amey'iel - a once sacred area where folklore said was where all plant life on Trill spawned from. It relaxed her as she watched what she believed was a memory. It was a young Kyril playing in a meadow she believed to be Amey'iel with a long-haired blond girl of the same age who looked very much like Janara, a former Vree host. But it wasn't a memory she was familiar with. In fact, it couldn't be a memory because the two hosts didn't exist in the same time period at childhood. But the connection between them was evident as they chased each other around and around laughing while playing Tobbie. Then off to the side, she saw a young Vulcan man standing there watching them play. His tightlipped smile gave him a contented look as he lifted his hand to give her the Vulcan hand gesture of farewell. He then turned around and faded into the late afternoon sun lit mist.

A hand on her shoulder gently shook her awake. "It is done."

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to find she had the mask on her again. "That was fast. Did it go well?"

T'Shin nodded wearily. "It took longer than expected. You are a Trill with many lives."

Mayla frowned beneath her mask. "I guess I should have mentioned that."

"No matter, it is done."

She noticed the candles in the room were different than the ones she saw when she first walked in. "How long was I out for?"

"Nine hours, thirty eight minutes." Nurren said, coming to her side. "It is past midnight."

Mayla couldn't help but to drop her mouth open. "But it felt like just a few minutes."

T'Shin leaned back in her chair, resting. "We offer you to stay here tonight to rest, and you can depart tomorrow. The climb down is more difficult at night."

Mayla shook her head slowly. "I humbly decline your offer, High Priestess. I need to get back to my ship to prepare for the funeral in the morning. I will make the trek down on foot in honor of Sorvek."

T'Shin gave her a nod. "As you wish."

Mayla checked all her limbs to be sure they were all awake from the trance the incense had put her in. "I had a dream, of sorts."

"Yes, he wanted to bid you farewell." T'Shin said wearily. "When all was done, I performed a mind meld with you to be sure his katra had been removed. It now only exists in the ark." She gestured to the urn sitting on the pedestal beside her. Mayla could read Sorvek's name in Vulcan carved into the side of the urn.

T'Shin placed a hand on top of the urn and meditated for a minute. "He is at peace."

Mayla finally sat up and looked around. Nurren helped her up and off the altar table. "High Priestess T'Shin, please accept my gratitude for this honor. Sorvek was important to me."

T'Shin smiled. "No, my child. You have our gratitude. It is not often an offworlder would do this. There are not many species in this universe that can carry a Vulcan katra and not lose who they are. Your race is an exception. And you did well by Sorvek."

Mayla gave her a deep bow of gratitude. "I will take your leave." She held up the customary Vulcan hand salute in farewell. "Live long and prosper."

"Live long and prosper." T'Shin returned the gesture. "May logic guide your path."

Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.24

After the debriefing, Ryramorl and Reepchip met up.  “She thought I’d lost control of my berserk rage,” Ryramorl said to Reepchip.

[..If I may speak plainly,] Reepchip signed in the Trade Language.

[Go ahead,] signed Ryramorl, noticing the switch.

[That may be for the best.  At Starfleet, when I went, I was directly asked if I was prone to such rages.  I said no, Muran do not normally experience them.  I was also told never to mention that the Olvern would deliberately go into such rages.]

[...So was I,] signed Ryramorl, remembering.

[Let Commander Oh think that Agavan erupted within.  If she finds out you stoked His Fires, you may face severe consequences.  Admiral MacLeod and Commander Vree understand. Commodore Oh may not.]

The two Carnora returned to the Resurrection and prepared themselves for the funeral the next day.

Back to top

## S3, E2, Act 7: Gathering

Commander Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.26

Jahkar stood in the mirror adjusting his Marine dress uniform, tugging restlessly at the collar with an uncomfortable look on his face. The funeral was still a couple hours away, but the Marine was promptly getting ready, mainly because he struggled with his dress uniform and wanted to get everything right. He knew he was likely going to be the only Federation Marine present and wanted to be sure to represent the Corps well.

The half-Klingon/Romulan turned to adjusting his colonel pips, a gold eagle affixed to his collar, when the door chime sounded.

“Come,” he called.

The door slid open and Chas’naH strolled in, also dressed in her Starfleet dress uniform. She saw him in his uniform and smiled, “Don’t you look dashing.”

Jahkar smirked, “I’m still working on it.”

She approached and came up behind him to take a handful of his long hair and she began to pull it into a ponytail. “How did you ever get the hardcore Marines to let you keep the long hair?”

He looked at her in the mirror, standing behind him, and grinned, “I told them as a half-Klingon long hair was a cultural thing. My CO didn’t like it. He tried like hell to get Marine Command to reverse its decision, but my hair prevailed.”

Chas finished tying the hair into a tail and had him turn toward her so she could help him adjust the tunic. Then she stepped back and gave a nod, “Looks good.”

“So, do you,” he said. “Have I ever told you I hate funerals.”

“Klingons love them,” she laughed. “A chance to drink, tell stories and sometimes even fight.”

“Let me be more specific...I hate Federation funerals,” Jahkar stated. “I’ve never been to a Vulcan ceremony, though. Any idea how it is?”

Chas’naH looked deep in thought, then spoke, “I’m going to make an educated guess that it is void of emotion and will be quite logical.”

Jahkar laughed, “Can’t argue with that.”

Chas looked at the time on the computer monitor projected above the desk in Jahkar’s quarters and sighed, “Want to beam down early, check out the site. See what Vulcan is like?”

“Sure,” he said, starting toward the door. “I’ve never been here. Let’s see what Sorvek’s homeworld is like.”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.27

When William materialized on the Vulcan surface, he found himself standing in the middle of a town square. He looked around the area as groups of people glided past him into and through separate public transporter stations installed in the square.

Eventually his eyes gazed upon a Vulcan tavern near the eastern edge of the square. He debated whether or not to visit the establishment before the funeral.

After a moment of reflection, Will sighed. He was bored. He really had no interest in exploring Vulcan and as a result, was unsure how to bide his time. He wondered if there were any historical sites he could visit. He desperately tried to recollect anything Sorvek had told him about Vulcan’s history but admittedly he couldn’t remember much..

He was not looking forward to this funeral. As much as he was furious at Sorvek for hiding the truth about Taryn Kane from him, he could not overlook the extraordinary efforts the Vulcan had taken to direct McCulloch down the path of redemption.

The Scot once again looked around his immediate area before deciding that MacLeod could go to hell and he was going to visit the tavern to sample Vulcan ale. However, as he approached the tavern entrance, the Scot noticed in the corner of his left eye a shadow moving parallel to him. As McCulloch instinctively turned to see who it was, he felt a slight tug on his right arm. An instant later there was a second, stronger tug that forcefully pulled him back. The Scot stumbled briefly before regaining his footing. As he collected himself, stood up straight and turned to his right, he came face to face with a Starfleet security officer. A second officer, the shadow he previously observed, closed in on him on his left flank. Without saying a word, the pair pushed him into an alleyway.

The two officers, a Bolian and a human, forced him up against an alley wall and started to silently frisk him. When McCulloch objected, the pair spun him around and frisked him again. Finding no weapons, the pair released the Scot and stepped back. After eying him with contempt, the human tapped his comm badge.

“Lieutenant D’Angelo here...We searched the target twice. He’s clean.”

“Stand by for the Commander.” An unknown voice replied.

The Bolian rested his hand on the grip of his phaser as he watched McCulloch. After about two minutes of awkward silence, a third security officer, accompanied by a female Starfleet commander wearing a science uniform entered the alley. She barely stood 5’5”, had shoulder length red hair and pale green eyes.

Will softly cursed to himself.

She scowled at the Scot for several seconds before advancing quickly towards him. McCulloch retreated several steps, hoping the gesture would diffuse a quickly escalating situation...but it was a futile effort. The Commander hopped slightly up and punched McCulloch square in the throat. He doubled over and started to choke. As he gasped for air, she grabbed him by the back of his dress uniform and drove her knee up into his chest. Will collapsed to the ground and continued to gasp for air.

The commander stood over him and studied him for a moment. Finally, she spoke in a low, cold tone.

“I have no idea what the hell you are doing here or how the $%^& you rejoined Starfleet but rest assured, I am going to the bottom of this and send your criminal ass back to whatever rock you crawled out from.”

“It’s nice to see you as well Vicky.” McCulloch horsley whispered as looked up at his ex-wife. It was clear either Commander Vree or someone else had trained her in advanced combat techniques. Will had never seen Victoria this...aggressive…before. Then again, he hadn’t seen her in over a decade.

“Did Mayla Vree have anything to do with this abomination of a decision?” She abruptly demanded as she slapped him on the back of the head with an open hand. Will quickly shook his head in the negative.

“You put me through years of hell Will.” Victoria hissed as she punched McCulloch in the throat again. “Between the time travel incident, your drinking, your entire fiasco with the Black Watch, your faked death, and several other questionable acts I was glad to leave your sorry ass in the past. But now, somehow you are back in the program.”

“Sorvek…” Will gasped for air as he rolled to his side. He knew he deserved this beating given what he had put Victoria through years ago. “MacLeod recruited me at Sorveks’s request.”

Victoria crouched down and eyed her ex-husband suspiciously. “So, it was Sorvek’s intention to bring you back? Wonderful.”

“It was. That’s what MacLeod told me.” Will replied as he tried to regain his composure.

Victoria stared at the Scot in silence. She cocked her head to the side and gestured to her security officers. The Bolian advanced, seized McCulloch by his arms and heaved him to his feet. Victoria moved closer to her ex-husband.

“Will, a month ago I put in for a transfer to a medical unit assigned to Shadow Operations. If it had been approved, I was to command a team of combat nurses who would have supported operatives during and after their missions.”

“The transfer was approved.” McCulloch replied knowingly.

“The transfer was approved.” Victoria replied as she choked back tears. “I was ready to go, until two days ago when I received word that you had been reinstated into the Shadow Operations program.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” McCulloch quietly answered. But before he could explain the circumstances of his return, Victoria held up her hand.

“I withdrew my application because once again, you screwed with my life.”

“I’m … I’m sorry.” McCulloch repeated. Victoria merely scoffed at him.

“Know this William McCulloch. I will pray every night that you either experience a miserable, painful and lonely death while on a mission or I find a way to remove you from the Shadow Operations program.”

The Scot looked down to the ground and nodded silently as his ex-wife walked away from him.

As Victoria and her team neared the alley entrance, she stopped and turned back to face McCulloch.

“Stay away from me during Sorvek’s funeral.”

“Understood.” McCulloch sadly answered.

“Oh and be sure to tell Mayla I’ll be having a long and less than friendly chat with her about this #$% show when I see her.” Victoria announced before turning her back on the Scot.

Lieutenant Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2101.28

Daryl had just put on his dress uniform as Darva entered the room. “Hey there,” she said, eyeing him from top to toe. “Looking good,” she purred and gave him a tight hug and a kiss.

“How was the debriefing with Oh? “ she asked.

“Same ol’, same ol’, nothing special. She seemed interested in why Sorvek had reinstated me after all that happened. “Daryl replied, while he adjusted his lieutenant pips on his uniform.

Then he noticed Darva was not in her dress uniform.

“You ain’t coming with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I am on duty. I will follow the funeral from the live screen if possible,” she answered.

“Too bad. Vulcan has some good ales. I’ll have a taste of it with Beckett when we get to the surface.

Darva’s face tightened a little. “Take it easy, will you? You know your hormone levels are heavily influenced by alcohol”

Daryl smiled. “I will. Don’t worry. Beckett is with me.”

Darva relaxed a little. “OK then. Well, behave. I don't want the boyfriend of the Head of Security of a Starfleet vessel get arrested for drunken behavior or worse.” Daryl grinned his broadest grin. “I mean it, Daryl Thompson,” she replied to his grin, quasi angry.

“No worries,” he said. The chime rang and the door slid open, revealing Beckett, also in his dress uniform.

“Commander,” he politely nodded towards Darva, then he looked at Daryl. “You ready?”

“Sure am,” Daryl replied.

“Then let’s go,” Beckett smiled. “Ma’am,” he nodded once more to Darva, as Daryl and he walked out of the room, leaving Darva behind, shaking her head slightly.

Beckett and Thompson materialized in a small square, surrounded by small buildings. All kinds of people, but mostly Vulcans, walked through and over the square, minding their business.

“Come on,” Beckett said, heading for one of the alleys. “I know a good tavern where we can taste a few ales. But let’s take it easy,” he continued, while walking over the square. As they entered the alley, they saw on the other end the new Lt. Commander, McCulloch in discussion with a small woman, flanked by some security officers. The woman hit him a few times.

“What the…” Thompson whispered, but was held back by Beckett. “Wait. We don’t know what it is about. Just record it. If it gets too tense, we can intervene.” Thompson cursed a few words but waited. Within moments, the woman and her entourage left, leaving McCulloch behind.

Beckett and Thompson approached McCulloch, who still was panting, rubbing his throat. "Are you ok, Lt. Commander?" Beckett asked, while Thompson walked a bit further, to the entrance of the alley, checking if the coast was clear. Daryl walked back and looked at McCulloch.

"What was that all about? "

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.28

McCulloch watched as Victoria and her entourage left the alleyway. Although his throat burned from the multiple punches to the neck, Will was slowly regaining his breath.

He looked around and saw Beckett and Thompson approaching him.

"Are you ok, Lt. Commander?" Beckett asked, while Thompson walked a bit further, to the entrance of the alley, checking if the coast was clear. Daryl walked back and looked at McCulloch. "What was that all about?"

The Scot hacked twice and spit as he rubbed his throat.

“Lt. Commander?” Beckett repeated.

Will chuckled slightly before coughing again. His throat felt like it had been scoured by glass.

“Sir?” Thompson pressed.

“That gentlemen,” Will announced hoarsely, “was my ex-wife.”

“Excuse me?” Beckett replied, somewhat confused.

“The woman kicking my arse was my ex-wife, Commander Victoria Smith. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade and she just made it quite clear that if she never saw me again it would be too soon.”

“Your ex wife?” Thompson asked incredulously.

“My ex-wife.” McCulloch admitted.

Lt. Daryl Thompson & Lt. Cody Beckett

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.30

Daryl looked in disbelief from McCulloch to Beckett, and back to McCulloch. "Your…ex- wife?" He repeated. "And you let her treat you like this?" He still looked in disbelief at the new commander. "Man… She sure must hate you, when she even thinks she can do this in full daylight."

McCulloch looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. Beckett gestured towards Daryl and Daryl caught the hint. "Come, I'll buy you a drink. You look like you could need one. We were on our way to tavern Beckett knew from his earlier life," Daryl smirked.

McCulloch hesitated. "Come on." Thompson said. "We can be stiff and boring when we are on duty.” A broad grin appeared on his face.

McCulloch scoffed, then a thin smile appeared on his face. “Ok, ok, but just one. We can’t afford to arrive drunk at the funeral of Sorvek,” he replied.

Thompson’s grin broadened. “Says the man who doesn’t travel without bottles of whiskey in his travelbag.” Laughing out loud, Thompson slammed McCulloch on the shoulder, then he walked on, out of the alley. He was followed by Beckett and McCulloch, who still was massaging his throat. As they entered another square, Beckett pointed towards the other side of the square, where a small tavern with a cozy terrace in front. A few Vulcans where enjoying their drinks or meals.

“There it is. They have the best ales in town,” he said. “Do they serve outsiders?” McCulloch asked. “Vulcans are known to hide their alcoholic drinks. Doesn’t seem to fit their ‘logical ways’ “

Daryl shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s find out!”

Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.30

After her debriefing by the Starfleet brass, Sh’avelith returned to Resurrection. The following morning, she dressed for the funeral, then beamed back down to Vulcan so she could spend some time in the capital city before meeting the rest of the team at the service.

Vulcan hadn’t changed much in the six years since she’d last set foot on the planet. She’d come here while in the academy as part of a six-week medical exchange between the Vulcan Medical Society and Starfleet Academy. She actually saw very little of the city or the planet, having spent the better part of the month-and-a-half visit in classrooms and medical wards. Still, she had always wanted to return and now might be her last chance for some time.

It pleased her that Vulcans seemed indifferent to her presence. On Andoria, her people were often not as accepting of Vulcans due to the years of the two races being adversaries, before the Federation.

Vulcans had, for the most part, put aside their dislike of Andorians and many even accepted her people as equals. But too many Andorians still held onto those pre-Federation intolerances that had fueled the Vulcan/Andorian conflict for years.

As she strolled the streets of the city on the dry, desert world, she thought about the upcoming funeral. While she felt bad about the loss of Sorvek, she was relatively new to Shadow Ops. Before being recruited from Starfleet Intelligence, she’d never even heard of him. Still, she felt empathy for her colleagues as most of them knew the man well.

Finally, she decided to head to the funeral. Finding the official listing for his funeral at a local government bulletin board, she then went to the transporter station that transported her directly to the funeral location elsewhere on the planet. She walked down the stone paved pathway into the shallow canyon and arrived at the temple where the funeral would take place. Among the people mingling about, she looked around for her teammates…

Commander Mayla Vree

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.30

Mayla had herself transported alone from the *Resurrection* directly back to the town square where she first met with the Starfleet brass for the debriefing. She made a show of going up to a public bulletin board to locate the public transporter station she would take to get to Sorvek's funeral location. She already knew the location of the funeral; this was just all to maintain her cover as a commander from the *USS Ikigai*. Being in a covert operations team usually meant she had a legitimate Starfleet duty posting, according to her profile. She was to be embedded with strangers she had to call shipmates.

Locating which numbered station to walk through, she casually took a stroll to that station's control panel and selected the location. She placed her hand on the panel for it to do a scan of her before she stepped through what just looked like a door frame. She materialized out onto a paved pathway from stone arches that hid the receiving transporter station to keep its modern aesthetics hidden from the natural surroundings. She continued walking clear of the station just in case other people came through behind her. Immediately she knew by the position of the sun that they were at somewhere else on the planet.

As she followed the pathway down into a small carved out canyon in the now afternoon sun, the dry air smelled exactly the way she 'remembered' it to be. The constant smokiness tinged with ash and sulfur permeated into the very pores of her uniform, hair, and skin quickly. In the distant sky, she could see waifs of smoke billowing amongst the clouds of scant moisture. Areas with foliage looked out of place on this rocky planet. As she walked along the stone path to an ornately decorated ceremonial meadow which to her surprise, was a large grassed area with trees and shrubbery. There were perhaps fifty people already there. Some were mingling, and some were already seated facing a ceremonial altared temple built into the cliffside. Behind it was a towering cliff face that reached high into the orange tinged sky. Torches were lit in sconces built into the walls and stone cairns placed at obvious logical points around the altar.

She walked from one group to another, as if she was mingling, but she was just listening in on various conversations. When she was mixed in with the crowds for an appropriate amount of time, she looked for a familiar face from the Ikigai to reinforce her cover. She found one, but it wasn't one she wanted to be associated with; someone she had a run in with during her first entry into Starfleet Academy when she was 10 years old. But unfortunately, her cover required her to interact with her.

"Raser," Mayla said as she walked up from behind the red-haired woman who was eight years her senior and a full 15 centimeters taller. The yellow dress uniform with lieutenant's pips on it form fitted her lean body well. Joanna Raser had always been a strong wiry woman. And her mop style of hair hadn't changed since her Academy days, a sign of her rebellious nature.

The taller woman turned around slowly and her green eyes turned hard as soon as she recognized the Trill. "Vree." She said cooly. "I got orders you were going to be here with my ship." Her demeanor didn't change even when she noticed the red command uniform and commander's pips. "Are those pips for real or is that just what your profile says?"

"They're real." Mayla said with a pleasant smile. "I needed a cover to be here. And your ship was chosen."

Raser scoffed. "Of all the ships here, it had to be mine."

"I assure you, I didn't have much choice. Your ship was one of the few that wouldn't draw too much attention here." Mayla stood next to her and looked in the direction Raser was looking. "So you're here for Admiral Sorvek?"

Raser flipped back her hair that was barely regulations; trying to keep the hairstyle under a messy control as it just flopped around her head as she moved. "My CO," she thumbed towards a balding, rotund man in a captain's uniform mingling with a few admirals a dozen meters away. "Came to pay his last respects, thinking it would help his career. I'm just providing security for him."

"He knows Sorvek?"

Raser shrugged. "Who knows. Who cares." She looked at Mayla's rank pips again. "A real full commander, eh?"

"And you, a real live lieutenant."

Raser scowled at her. "How did a pissant like you make commander before me?" She said as condescendingly blatant as she could. "Heard you were even kicked out of the Academy after beating me up."

"After the Breen attacked Earth during the War." Mayla corrected. "I was...encouraged to reapply when I was older. After all, I was only 10 at the time." Mayla gave her a sweet smile that nearly made Raser want to bash her face in. Or at least try to.

"Yeah, and that fight would have ended differently if your Daddy didn't intervene."

Mayla shook her head to herself. That wasn't at all what happened. "You weren't even conscious when my 'Daddy' intervened. But if that's the way you want to remember it to make you feel better about yourself, I'm okay with that."

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" Raser said with a frustrated growl. She looked at Mayla again and took a breath, remembering that Mayla was a superior officer which demanded respect whether she respected her or not. But deep, deep down inside her, she did. Especially for her ruthlessness, and a little of her compassion. "No, didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

Mayla waved the apology away. "Don't be. I had it coming. I was incorrigible at that age. Now I'm just impossible."

Raser laughed all of a sudden and her mood lightened up, if just a bit. "How are you doing?"

Mayla turned back to watch the funeral attendees file in. "Doing good. How's the duty with Captain Avery Barick?"

The taller woman looked over to her captain. "Challenging. Do you know him?"

"Not personally. But I think everyone has heard about him almost losing his ship in a game of tongo."

"Yeah, I was there when it happened too. The bungling idiot. What Starfleet captain would put their ship into a gambling pot? And then actually lose it?"

"I'm surprised they still let him keep his command."

Raser shrugged. "People he knows in high places. Some commodore paid off his betting pot." She just shook her head at how Starfleet politics worked. "He is so lucky to still have the Ikigai."

"You know, there's a joke going around about that name..." Mayla started.

"Yeah, I heard about it." Raser interrupted. "Barick's icky guy," she bemoaned at the running joke of the play on pronunciation for the *USS Ikigai*.

"Well, look at it this way. The word ikigai means 'happiness in living'. Embrace that and maybe you won't be so miserable while serving aboard the icky guy."

Raser kept her lips tight as she slowly turned her head to look down at the frowning Trill. "I want so much to bash your face in right now."

"Now THAT would be striking a superior officer. And it'll seal your fate with the icky guy forever." Whether she meant the ship or captain, it would be up to Raser to decide which was worse.

"You just won't let up, will you?"

"Not since you tried to cheat on your lab exam." Mayla said with an even voice. "Thought I taught you a lesson that night of our fight in getting a hold of your anger issues and learning compassion. And maybe a bit of honesty in yourself."

"Your little lesson only made me angrier." She could feel the heat rise in her face. "Do you know how long people teased me for letting a 10-year-old beat me up and then healing my wounds like a nursemaid? Everyone called me Baby Jo until I graduated out."

"No, I didn't hear. But did you ever think about who told everyone about that fight? There were only five of us there: you, your two female companions, my friend Zeb, and I." Mayla gave her a sad frown. "And I didn't tell anyone. Zeb surely wouldn't have told anybody. So, it was one of your two friends who must have spread the word about how it all happened."

Raser grunted. "It was Madilyn."

"And I take it you taught her a lesson or two after that?"

"I did."

"And now you're still sore about it? Come on, it's been so long, you must have learned something from the situation."

"Nope." Raser said stubbornly. Then she suddenly looked at Mayla again. "You're doing it again, aren't you? Trying to teach me a lesson or else I'll spend the rest of my career with the icky guy."

"Just offering some advice. You can take it or leave it."

Raser gave her another look, and for a just a moment, Mayla saw a spark of contemplation of what her last comment meant. The security officer let the hot anger drain from her face as she calmed down before giving Mayla a scornful grin.

"I have to agree with you. You ARE impossible." Raser smacked her on the shoulder for old times sake. It was going to be the closest thing to hitting her without being reported because she knew well enough there was no way she could win a fight against the Trill. Raser had taken a beating when Mayla was only 10 and didn't receive a single scratch on herself. She didn't want to find out what a 29-year-old Mayla could do to her.

"Let's go get a seat." Raser said, leading the way while following her captain. They navigated towards some open seating, but still kept close to the Ikigai captain. Mayla was under no such orders to have to stand by him, so she moved away from Raser to find her own seat. She saw a free seat and moved into the aisle to get to it. As she glanced around, in her eyes, she made note of the several people she recognized including Phoenix Team. She got to her seat and sat down next to a woman in a red dress uniform nearly identical to her own. The woman was turned away from her talking animatedly with the Vulcan sitting on the other seat beside her. Over the noise from the crowd and the Vulcan funeral dirge, she couldn't hear what was being said.

Mayla kept to herself and patiently waited for the service to begin. She watched casually as the last attendees began taking the seats and one by one available seating became scarce. Some people were forced to stand in the back and the side wings. There were a good mixture of people in and out of Starfleet uniforms, including those from different races. She could see the group of Carnora congregated together to protect the Hallowed One.

"Mayla?"

She turned to the woman she had sat down next to and recognized the face of the commander.

"Victoria?" Mayla said. She couldn't believe that she happened to sit next to her and didn't recognize her at first. Her hair style and color had changed. Even her body frame was slightly different. "I almost didn't recognize you."

Commander Victoria Smith's eyes turned hard before instantly pulling her into an embrace to hide her anger. "It's so good to see you. I suspected you might be here, under the circumstances." Smith kissed her on the cheek. "I wasn't sure…."

"Of course I would come." Mayla pulled away and held Smith's hand. The bond they developed years ago was instantly rekindled from the experiences they had together on the periphery of known space. They had to rely and trust each other to protect themselves and the 11 stasis pods they were transporting back to the Federation from the *USS Revenant*. Nine of those were of the *Revenant'*s deceased. The remaining two were the *Revenant'*s miradorn twin captains, accused of committing treason and taken back to Starfleet to stand trial.

Smith remained stiff as if she was holding something back. Mayla tried to lean against her shoulder out of habit from all those years ago while traveling together. The older woman asked through tight lips. "Is your father here too?"

Mayla frowned. "I doubt it."

"I see," she said, seeing the pained look in Mayla's face. "How are you doing?"

"As well as usual. How's everything going aboard the *Attenborough*?"

"I put in for a transfer a month ago."

"Again? I thought you were happy there."

"Sorvek asked me to train and command a team of combat medics. I was to transfer over in a few weeks."

Mayla paused for a moment, suddenly seeing where this conversation was going. In her mind, she saw the recommendation Sorvek submitted to MacLeod about the new team of combat medics that would be assigned to each Shadow Operations team. The first team was to be assigned to Phoenix Team. But Mayla wasn't supposed to know any of this.

She allowed a moment's pause before she responded slowly. "Really."

"Really. Until I got word two days ago that Will was reinstated provisionally into Starfleet." Smith put a hand on Mayla's face and turned it towards her. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

Mayla locked eyes with her and it uncannily reminded her of Kyril's cousin Jiarin, whose current mannerisms were introduced into her personality that changed her perspective on the universe. Jiarin was sort of an aunt to Mayla, and that's exactly how it felt with Smith. But today, she was angry.

The Trill took a deep breath and let it out. Despite Lazarus' orders not to bring up the subject of William McCulloch, the subject was already the topic of conversation now. "No, and I was just as surprised as you when they told me."

"Will told me Sorvek recommended his reinstatement." Smith gave her a forced smile at the tightening lines around Mayla's eyes. "I just saw him in the Square. Will, that is, not Sorvek."

"That must have been hard for you," Mayla gently said, knowing how she felt about her ex-husband. "Seeing him again after all these years."

"Probably just as hard as it is for you to see him," Smith responded with.

Mayla frowned at her. "I actually haven't met up with him yet."

Smith sighed before smirking; her mood lightened up. "You're avoiding him?"

"You at least had a choice to cross paths with him or not. I have no choice. I'm going to be his CO."

Smith let go her hand and leaned back in her seat. "I'm still so angry with it all. I've already requested to cancel my transfer and get back on the *Attenborough*."

Mayla threaded her arm through Smith's. Sorvek had an impeccable memory, and she could actually 'remember' his analysis of McCulloch. She had to relearn how to suppress certain memories out loud now that she wasn't supposed to have any of Sorvek's knowledge at all.

"Lazarus said something to me that was worth pondering when I received the news. And now I'm going to pass on to you the same advice he gave me." She gave Smith's arm a squeeze. "Kyril had the chance to kill McCulloch, but instead he saw something in him that was worth saving. Sorvek must also have seen something. Maybe we should try to see it too."

Silence followed them now, both trying to let the past fade into the past as they waited for the funeral to begin.

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## S3, E2, Act 8: Good Byes

Lt. Cody Beckett

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.31

Cody was abruptly pushed forward into the seating row by McCulloch. "What the.. " He whispered. Then he saw the next free seat, the one meant for McCulloch. The seat next to that was occupied by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She looked at Cody with a predator look. She smiled at Cody, but that look in her eyes... "oh sh\*t" Was all Cody could think as he sat down next her. He exhaled deep and wondered what he had been pushed into. And how the hell he got involved in McCulloch's personal troubles.

"Well, hello there. You must be one of Will's teammates, right?" She purred while laying her hand on Cody's arm. "Hmmm a strong man… You workout a lot, don't you?"

Cody was mesmerized by her eyes as she spoke to him, and he nodded. "Ehhh, yes" He stammered.

"But where are my manners," She continued. "I haven't introduced myself. . My name is Sarah Pickering… and you are??"

It took Cody a second to realize he had to answer… "Erhhh, I am Cody Beckett, very pleased to meet you," Cody brought out, laughing sheepishly…

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.31

“And her brother was a combat marine.” McCulloch announced as he leaned into Beckett and Sarah’s awkward conversation. The Scot eyed his former executive assistant suspiciously before he continued. “And not any type of combat marine. He was a jump ship gunner which meant he was the first into the fight against the Jem'hadar. I’m not sure if he’d want his sister involved with a Starfleet officer.”

Sarah ignored the Scot’s attempt to derail her efforts and turned her attention back to Beckett. She looked coyly at the Lieutenant as she leaned towards him. “Tell me Cody, what is your specialty with Starfleet?”

“Ummm...science? Yeah, science.” He announced nervously.

“Oh, this is going oh so well.” Thompson announced loudly enough for those around him to hear.

Sarah leaned even closer towards Beckett and stared directly into his eyes. “A scientist huh? Tell me what you study.”

“You do know we’re at a funeral?” McCulloch interjected again, growing impatient with Sarah.

Pickering leaned forward and rested her chin on the palm of her hand. She narrowed her eyes and studied the Scot in silence. She knew she was getting under his skin and she was loving every minute of it. Finally, she decided to kick it up a notch.

“Shess tells me Victoria is here. Maybe I should stop chatting with this fascinating and handsome man named Cody Beckett so you can introduce me to her. Are you going to introduce me or maybe I should do that myself?”

McCulloch knew the last thing he needed was those two women interacting with each other. The Scot looked back at Thompson who merely shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in disbelief.

He then looked at Beckett. The lieutenant chuckled nervously and stammered. “She called me fascinating and handsome.”

Someone seated behind Beckett groaned softly at the comment.

Sarah leaned back in her chair. A wide, confident smile spread across her face. She slowly winked at Thompson and McCulloch.

“Did she just wink at me?” Thompson asked hesitantly.

Will ignored Thompson’s question as he slowly reflected upon the situation.

After a moment of silence, he patted Beckett on the back and simply announced. “Beckett, appreciate your sacrifice today. Keep her busy.”

“What?” Both Sarah and Beckett exclaimed almost in unison.

Carnora Delegation

Vulcan

Stardate 2101.31

Due to his tiny size and the fact he was bedridden, Zarza Horlasavarsavar was allowed to sit nearer the front so he could see what was going on. In the tradition of the Muran, they (and Reepchip) were veiled, for to the Dead names and faces were irrelevant and to bring them to attention was even irreverent.

Meanwhile, The Overseer was content to sit near the back, so that his height wouldn’t block anyone’s view.  With him were his guards, Rygaran D’Hronarin, Ryramorl Ra’yral, and Reepchip Charatetet.

Hworyal and Ryramorl had a special appreciation for Sorvek--the Vulcan had taught Ryramorl special meditations to control the Fires of Agavan and, through Hworyal, passed them on to the other berserkers.

Lt. Daryl Thompson

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.01

Daryl chuckled a bit, while Cody was caught in the cringeworthy situation between McCulloch and Sarah Pickering. Well, Daryl had to admit, she was pretty...very pretty. But she was also dangerous. She played with Cody like a cat with a mouse, with the difference that Cody was all over her and didn't mind at all. Daryl wondered even if Cody was aware of the game that was played here, yet Daryl enjoyed the show, so he just sat there, watching it unfold.

Lt. Cody Beckett

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.01

Cody quickly regained his composure. He turned towards Sarah "Want to go for a drink after this? He blurted out. Sarah, who still glared at McCulloch as if she wanted to bite his head off, suddenly turned her head to Cody and kissed him full on the mouth. Cody was at least as flabbergasted as McCulloch, who he heard suppress a swearing word. When she let him go, Will was still looking at her, his mouth wide opened.

"Of course, Cody," Sarah purred, as she looked past him, awaiting McCulloch's reaction…

Then, the chatter faded quickly like a wave across the meadow, as a line of what looked like a priests-led procession came out from the side of the large platformed altar.

Commander Sienae Tal'Aura

Sorvek's funeral, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.01

Ever since her encounter with the Carnora Rygaran at the space port, she decided not to dress in her Starfleet uniform to the funeral, but in normal Vulcan tunic, trousers, and robe with a drawn hood. To maintain her dissociation with Starfleet, she wouldn't actually be at the service, but just the fringes of it. If Rygaran saw her at Sorvek's funeral, it wouldn't do well for her cover on Kazis IX.

She had given it a lot of thought about whether or not to attend Sorvek's funeral when Lazarus first informed her of it. An undercover solo operative attending a Starfleet Intelligence brass funeral was risky at the very least. But Admiral Sorvek had personally recruited her, even despite pressure from her father to try to force her into a desk job instead of field work. There was no love lost between the Admiral and her father; both were in Starfleet Intelligence and had to work in the same circles. Since then, her father had worked behind the scenes to try to discredit Sorvek and remove him from his high-ranking position in the organization. So just being here at the funeral was in a way, dishonoring her father. But she owed it to the Admiral to be here.

Waiting for the service to begin, she allowed herself to suppress those emotions of guilt. But that changed instantly when she spotted her father sitting in the crowd.

She had stood far enough back from the seated attendees, just upon the fringes of the funeral services with many others who arrived too late to find available seating. She was scanning the attendees for Mayla Vree and found her seated next to another commander in dress uniform. She wondered briefly if any of her former Bravo Squad teammates were going to attend. And as she looked, that's when she saw her father sitting with several others, he seemed to be familiar with. Maybe some of his circle of colleagues from Starfleet Intelligence. She almost cringed and took a step back when she saw him. It had been years since she'd seen him, let alone talk with him. Not a message was exchanged between the two in all that time.

The service began with a procession of priests walking out to the altar. A priestess of ceremonies began reciting from ancient texts, and then broke into a Vulcan hymn that spoke of the place logic had in the pace and path of life. Sorvek's two sons, Soloth and Tudar, then walked in at the head of another procession of family until they reached the altar where Sorvek's urn was presented. They were announced and took seats as other relatives joined them around the altar. The Vulcan funeral dirge music played softly in the background as the service continued through the program.

Soloth purposefully left out how he died, but allowed people to think Sorvek had died from natural causes. Even though the official recorded reason was fabricated. There were several other readings from more ancient Vulcan texts, and then a child sang a Vulcan song; supposedly from Sorvek's favorite Vulcan opera. It gave the song a new meaning sung by a child.

Sienae felt someone move up to stand beside her even though there was plenty of space between her and other attendees. During funeral services, Vulcans socially distanced themselves from each other in case any of them would lose control of their emotions during an especially emotional time. Their hoods would discreetly hide the display to avoid any social taboos. The figure stood there for a few minutes before speaking in a low voice.

"It's good to see you well, Bravo Five."

Out of habit, her opposite hand slowly edged close to one of the two sidearms hidden beneath her robes. She moved her eyes to try to see who was speaking to her, but the figure was similarly cloaked and hooded. She recognized the use of her old callsign from when she was in Bravo Squad just before the team was disbanded, and instantly connected it to the familiar voice. Definitely not someone she expected to hear from, let alone see. She remained still as to not make any sudden moves just in case she was wrong, and to give any physical cues that they knew each other.

"Bravo One. Nice to see you again." The voice of her former CO immediately made her think of his daughter. "Are you here to see Echo One?"

"I'm here for the funeral. That is all." He said in a flat monotone voice. It wasn't one she normally heard him use. It was emotionless, non-authoritative, as if the voice was coming from a deep well of emptiness.

"You should go see her." Sienae said, urging a bit of anger and assertion to her tone. "She's here."

"I will think about it." There was a slight pause, as if he was giving some thought about it. "Do you know who was with Sorvek when he died?"

Sienae shook her head. "From what I've seen and been told, only his killer, Jack Dark. They were alone."

"I see." There were several moments of silence before he spoke again. "So are you going to go see him?"

"Who?"

"Your father. You keep looking at him."

It surprised her that he knew her father was here, let alone notice her glances beneath her hood. She didn't even realize she was doing it that often. "No, I don't think so. I don't know why he's here. He dislikes Sorvek."

"Maybe it's just for show; a sign of respect despite their differences," the man said slowly. "You can still respect someone even though you don't like them."

"We haven't spoken to each other in years."

"Then it's about time to begin again. The longer you avoid it, the harder it will be. In time, opportunities will be lost completely; leaving only guilt and regret."

"I...I don't know how," she said sadly, thinking back the last time she spoke with her father. She had hurt him deeply when she turned down a desk position at Starfleet Intelligence he used up so many favors to procure for her.

"I can help you with that. You start off with 'Hello Father.' Then let events take its course. It's like any field mission. Despite me trying to plan out an entire mission, some things are just unforeseeable. And unplannable." His tone had a hint of self deprecating sarcasm.

Sienae took a deep breath and let it out, not sure what she should do. She knew her former CO meant well. But there was more history than just between her and her father. There was also the matter of her oldest brother too, who always took their father's side.

"I'll make you a deal. You go see your father, and I will go see Echo 1."

She could almost hear a smile in that proposition. Leave it to him to always impart some sort of sage advice, and the slight nudge for her to do the right thing. How could she rebuke the 4+ lifetimes of memories, experiences, and wisdom he had? The guilty fear grew in the middle of her chest as the thought of confronting her father was now foremost in her mind. "I don't know if he even wants to see me."

"Every father misses his daughter." he said, as if more to himself than to her.

He had always had her back, whether she was still part of his team or not. Personally, or professionally. And it would make Mayla happy to see him, even if it was a visit to fulfill a deal. She knew Mayla had struggled with her father's lack of contact and absence in her life for the past few years. This act might help her Trill friend, as it might help herself mend bridges with her own father. She frowned in spite of herself and suddenly realized they were both in the same position. Both father and daughter out of touch with each other. Now her frown turned into a smile. This deal was also to force himself to confront the same fears and guilt she had.

"It's a deal."

"Good. Deal is struck then."

She built up courage and determination to go see her father discreetly when the service was over. She shook her head at the absurdity of these past few years avoiding her father. They were family, despite everything that had been said and done before.

Silence fell between them for a few minutes as they watched the funeral service continue. She finally turned to thank him, but the figure was gone. She didn't even hear him leave.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.02

The Carnora all remained utterly silent as the funeral proceeded. Reepchip, however, caught a familiar whiff, and looked around.  He could have sworn he saw the Romulan who’d taken them from Kazis IX to Starbase 36. He sent a telepathic nudge towards Ryramorl and Rygaran, and gestured towards the one he thought was Tarika. The two looked over at the figure, but said nothing.

As the ceremony proceeded, they remained silent in respect to the fallen Admiral. The only sound from them was the occasional deep breath, and the odd chink from the Overseer’s armour whenever he adjusted his posture.

Lt. Cody Beckett

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.02

As the temple silenced, Cody sat back. His whole face tingled from the excitement of the kiss. Yet he felt very uneasy, as from the corner of his eyes he saw McCulloch glaring.

He wasn't sure if it was towards him or Sarah. Or both. On the other hand… McCulloch pushed him forward Into the row, so Cody didn't have much choice other than sitting next to her.

Sarah ignored McCulloch. She was looking intensely to what was happening below at the altar. Suddenly her hand moved and slid into Cody's, their fingers intertwining. Cody didn't expect this and he started to feel uneasy, as it slowly dawned on him Sarah could well be playing a game with him and McCulloch.

While the priests below at the altar performed rites and chanted in their Vulcan language, Cody wondered how this would end.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.02

Will was unsure if he should be furious with Sarah or merely amused. He knew his former executive assistant, now Inverness’ Director of Operations, was playing games with both him and Cody and it was starting to spin out of control.

The Scot truly felt bad for Beckett. He had occasionally seen this side of Sarah and he didn’t like it. McCulloch wondered what led to this behavior...was his departure from Inverness, the death of Sorvek or the trip on the Klingon Bird of Prey that drove her to behave this way?

After some reflection, Will took a deep breath and made a mental note to himself to speak with Shess and Wenn about Sarah’s behavior as it could also have a detrimental impact on the firm’s long-term business relationships.

Unfortunately for the Scot, Wenn had other ideas. The Bajoran, who was seated on the other side of Sarah, leaned in and rapped Cody and Pickering’s intertwined hands with a series of quick, hard slaps. Cody yelped as Sarah quickly pulled her hand back towards her body.

Wenn then eyed each of the four suspiciously before speaking in a low, cold tone. “We are here to honor Sorvek. You all better knock it off until this service is over, or I will personally gut each of you.”

Hey, I had nothing to do with this.” Thompson protested.

Wenn leaned in further and pointed her index finger directly at the Lieutenant. “You … zip it or I’ll shut you down myself.”

Thompson leaned back in his chair and looked at the Scot. “Promise me you’re not going to introduce me to the Bajoran.”

McCulloch stayed quiet and simply shook his head in the negative.

Sorvek’s Funeral

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.02

Everyone had gathered in an open temple, Mount Seleya visible in the background, as the Vulcan sun rose into the morning sky above. The morning sunlight cast shadows across the temple area, but fortunately for the guests the ceremony would be over before the hot sun was overhead.

Vulcans were known for having very short funeral services and if it weren’t for the fact there would be Starfleet input in the ceremony, it would have been over almost as soon as it started.

A Vulcan priest entered the chamber carrying a golden urn as he made his way slowly up the aisle where the crowd sat in circles of chairs surrounding the center altar. It was upon that altar the urn bearing Sorvek’s cremated remains would sit during the service.

Once the priest had placed the urn, a gong was sounded from the back of the temple. After it was sounded three times, the priest bowed his head to the urn, before standing back straight and turning to depart the center of the temple.

High Priestess T’Shin then made her entrance, the gong sounded again as she moved up the aisle, dressed in the deep, lavender and white robes of the order, complete with a tall headdress and a staff she used as she walked.

Once she had arrived at the altar, she waited for the gong to end and when it did, she looked out upon the guests assembled. Both Sorvek’s Vulcan family and his Starfleet friends were seated there, the latter outnumbering the family considerably. Sorvek’s human wife, Megan White, had died some years ago. His sons, Soloth and Tudar, along with their wives and children, represented the family.

Satisfied all the guests were present, T’Shin began: “Today we honor the memory of Sorvek, son of Sydar. We are all diminished by his death, but we were enriched by his life.”

T’Shin paused a moment, then continued, “Today we honor him: We honor the husband, the father, the brother, the military officer. His life is one to be held in the highest regard and esteem.”

There was chanting, from T’Shin and other priests who encircled the outermost perimeter of the temple. After the customary funeral chants were complete, the priestess stepped aside and Soloth, the eldest son, came forward before the group.

After a long pause, Soloth began, “It is customary for the eldest child to speak of their father at his funeral if the mother has passed away. It is difficult for me to come before you and speak of Sorvek because I did not know him. Understand, Sorvek was an adequate father to my brother and I. He imparted all that he could upon us, spent time with us and oversaw much of our education. There were camping trips, as he called them, to a place on Earth called Yosemite.”

In the crowd, Vala Preet suddenly found her eyes welling with tears, remembering that Sorvek had taken her to Yosemite to privately discuss his concerns about President Gant and she recalled him telling her he enjoyed that place more than any other on Earth.

Soloth, meanwhile, continued, “After our mother died, our father became something of a stranger to us. He was immersed in his work and was seldomly there. Many believed our relationship to be strained, but on the contrary, Tudar and I know he was in great pain over the loss of our mother. As a Vulcan who never completed the Kohlinar, he was not able to put his emotions aside and it consumed much of the father we knew. In many ways, Sorvek died with Megan, and the Vulcan he was before she died is how we choose to remember him.  My family and friends . . . peace and long life. And thank you for being here today.”

Soloth then bowed toward the urn before making his way back to his chair. Once seated, T’Shin nodded toward Admiral MacLeod.

“Admiral Ian Connor MacLeod, a friend and associate of Sorvek, has asked to speak,” she said. “Please, admiral, you may approach the altar.”

The Scot stepped up to the altar and turned to look at the assembly of Vulcans and Starfleet officers. Some of them people he’d only just met, others longtime Shadow Operations personnel who had all gathered to pay respects to their fallen leader.

MacLeod took in a sharp breath and began, “How does one take the measure of a man who lived a truly remarkable life; a man who accomplished truly incredible things; a warrior who defended his country in war and peace? This is, indeed, a daunting challenge.

“So, let me begin today as we gather here in this place of logic to celebrate the life of an incomparable man. A scholar, a warrior, a veteran of the Dominion War and dozens of other conflicts, a brilliant strategist, a leader, and a flag officer. A man who loved peace as only those who have been surrounded by war and chaos can. A proud citizen of the United Federation of Planets.

“Today, we celebrate the life of a legendary man who counted among his countless friends heads of militaries from around the quadrant, diplomats of the highest rank, leaders of foreign and domestic governments alike. His friends and colleagues included the Federation’s leading lights in the galactic security arenas, as well as peacemakers and warlords and men and women who live lives on the dangerous edge of things.

“Today we celebrate the life of a man, a son of Vulcan, a man who served and rose to prominence in the most clandestine and unrecognized branches of Starfleet – yet a man who gave of himself and his treasure in his quest for greater diversity, equality, fairness and security for all Federation citizens.

“Today we celebrate the life of a truly gallant gentleman, a man who loved his beautiful Megan with all his heart and soul, and who was loved in turn by her. And yes, Soloth, I know the loss of Megan was devastating to your father. He confided that in me. But also, know this. Despite his distance from you and your brother, he loved you both, your families and he was very proud of all you have both accomplished.”

Soloth looked to MacLeod and nodded, his face not reflecting emotion, but the Scot knew deep down in his Vulcan-Human heart, he understood.

Ian took a moment, his head lowered, before he continued the eulogy.

“Will Rogers once said, “We can’t all be heroes. Some of us have to stand by on the curb and clap as they go by. Today, we all get to stand here as one of those heroes passes by.”

MacLeod then extended his right hand and formed the traditional Vulcan salute, “Live long and prosper.”

The aging Starfleet office then turned and gave a slight bow toward Sorvek’s urn before exiting the center stage and he returned to his chair next to Lazarus.

T’Shin returned to the center of the temple and after reciting a Vulcan prayer, she dismissed the guests as Sorvek’s urn was taken to be interred in a mausoleum deep beneath Mount Seleya…the resting place of many of Vulan’s most famous and respected scholars, soldiers and leaders.

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## S3, E2, Act 9: Echoes of the Past (extended edition)

Commander Mayla Vree

Sorvek's Funeral, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.03

The service portion ended, and the family's ritualistic honoring was now beginning. This was mainly for the family to perform, but all those attending could continue to participate or disperse. Mayla got up from her chair and entered the queue to give her condolences to Sorvek's sons, Soloth and Tudar. And she also had a symbolic item to give to them, given to her by Sister Nurren when she left Mount Seleya after the katra ritual. She had left it in her quarters when she came down, but just now had it beamed directly onto her hands just before it was her turn to approach the Vulcan brothers. Now with the item at hand, she bowed once to them.

"Soloth, Tudar, sons of Sorvek, I grieve with thee," She said in the high Vulcan Sorvek often used with them. "Your father honored me with his presence and guidance in my life. Now I honor you with this."

She held out an obelisk made from obsidian in the shape of a slender pyramid. Carved on one face was a replica of Sorvek's symbol on his katric ark. Another face had the symbol of T'Shin as High Priestess of the Halls of Ancient Thought. On another face was the Vulcan symbol for enduring logic, and the last face had the crested symbol T'Shin had given to represent Mayla Vree. It was her name spelled out in the old golic Vulcan alphabet stylized into a symbolic crest.

Soloth accepted the item absentmindedly and handed it to his younger brother as he did with other items that were considered grieving gifts. Mayla was about to walk away when Soloth stopped her.

When she looked at him, he was looking at the obelisk Tudar was showing him. "This is from the High Priestess T'Shin," he said, making a quick glance around to find the priestess, but she wasn't anywhere to be found. He turned back to her with a questioning tick of one eyebrow. "How did you come upon this?"

Mayla just gave him a respectful nod. "It is best not to ask the how, but to accept what is. I was instructed to inform you that Sorvek's katra is residing peacefully in the Halls of Ancient Thought, and to deliver this to you on this day of mourning."

The brothers gave a quick glance to each other before turning back to her. "May we ask what your name is?" Tudar asked.

"Mayla Vree." She gave both of them a tight-lipped frown and the customary hand gesture. "Live long and prosper." She turned around and walked down the ramp back to rejoin those people who remained after the service ended. She took a deep breath as her responsibilities here were now completed. Sorvek was put to rest and the funeral was coming to a close. She saw Lazarus and MacLeod still mingling with other Starfleet brass. She made note of the other members of Phoenix Team who weren't as dispersed as she thought they might be. It was maybe time for her to get back to the Resurrection. She headed to the outer fringes of the crowd and looked back one last time. She saw quite a few familiar faces now, including Admiral Clancy and Commodore Oh. Perhaps Sorvek's katra had been blocking that memory of them from her. But now that his katra was gone, she had full access to all of his memories now fully absorbed to become her own. She caught Raser's eye and gave her a nod. Raser gave her a light salute from her temple.

"Hello, Commander." A hand tapped her on the shoulder. Mayla turned around and saw a tall figure wearing non-descript Vulcan clothing beneath a cloak. But despite the hood covering most of the facial features, she was still able to make out the attractive angular face of the former Shadow Operations instructor. She was a captain now, according to the records on Blackthorn that Sorvek sent to her.

"I'm surprised to see you here." Mayla held out her hand to receive the handshake from the familiar Betazoid.

"It is Sorvek's funeral. Of course, we'd be here." Kiana Ammelis said in a somber voice. "Take a walk with me." She said not as a question, but an order.

Mayla nodded and started a leisurely stroll with the tall Betazoid. When they were out of earshot of most of the crowd, Mayla asked her question. "Who's we? Is Kyril here too?"

Ammelis hesitated before answering. "He is, but you will meet with him on the ship. That's where I'm taking you now. We need to find someplace secluded so we can beam out." She gestured to a narrow path that led to an adjacent shallow gully under a rocky outcropping.

"So, I assume Jasid is here too."

"That's Admiral Jasid to you, young lady." Ammelis scolded lightly. "We all wanted to be here. We didn't know you were going to be here until we saw Lazarus' preliminary report to Starfleet Intelligence."

"You saw that already?" Mayla asked suspiciously. Could that mean they had eyes and ears inside Starfleet Intelligence?

"We just heard about it earlier today along with Sorvek's death. So, we immediately came out for the funeral."

That gave Mayla pause. "So, all of you were at the funeral?"

"We were, but only for a short time. All but I have already returned to the ship to minimize our exposure here. I was to fetch you for a meeting with your father. Then we will be leaving immediately afterwards." Ammelis continued to lead them farther away from the service. Mayla thought to herself that her father was at the funeral and she didn't even notice him. Although, they were probably void of all identity as Starfleet still listed their whereabouts as classified. And there was a pretty good chance they even had their isolinear tags deactivated for the duration. The clandestine nature of their mission and Kyril's paranoia would have demanded such actions.

Ammelis gestured to a natural alcove surrounded by boulders. "This will do fine. See you."

Mayla rematerialized alone on a transporter pad of a starship. A human woman in a Starfleet uniform stepped out from behind the transporter console to greet her. Her long dark hair was tied into a tail that flowed from the top of her head. It made her look like a teenager.

"Commander Vree, I'm Lieutenant Commander Shenandoah Sekani, your father's adjunct. I'm to escort you to him."

Mayla shook her hand. "My CO needs to be told where I am," she said, all of a sudden out of her element and still a little bit in shock that she was about to see her father.

"We've already contacted Captain Lazarus over his subvocal to inform him of your visit here. We will return you to the surface when your meeting is concluded." She gestured for Mayla to walk along with her. "If you would follow me, please."

She followed Sekani through corridors filled with personnel coming and going about their assignments. Occasionally Sekani had to order them to 'make a hole' in some more crowded areas of the ship. But even despite all that, Mayla could tell it was a newer starship from the smell and smooth vibrations coming through the decking.

"Where is here?"

"*USS Pui Man*," she said without any flare. "In orbit above Vulcan."

Mayla nodded in recognition as it was a ship that was listed in one of Sorvek's files. He had procured it to be assigned to a long term assignment beyond the outer rim of the Beta Quadrant. But in actuality, it was going to wherever her father was currently stationed. "NCC-76108, Inquiry-class, just out of drydock yesterday. Supposed to be the most powerful class of ships ever built to date."

Sekani showed her surprise as to how Mayla knew about the ship so quickly since Sorvek had hidden and filed its obscure assignment away not to be found easily. All she could respond with was, "It is. At least by Starfleet standards."

They entered a vacant turbo lift and it started to move without Sekani telling it where to go. Mayla glanced at her quickly and thought the woman looked vaguely familiar. Both women listened to the humming sound of the lift as the deck numbers ascended. It was several seconds more before Mayla broke the silence.

"Captain Ammelis told me you came for Sorvek's funeral. How did you learn of it so quickly?"

"We were in the vicinity for an inspection tour of the Pui Man during her shakedown cruise." Sekani said as if she rehearsed it.

"I doubt that."

Now the silence was awkward as Sekoni suddenly felt she was under scrutiny by her CO's daughter. She decided it was better to remain silent for the time being. Mayla smiled as she read the look on Sekoni's face. She could tell Mayla made her nervous. Several seconds of reaching into her memories brought back a funny story that she had read. She now remembered Sekani's name and why it was familiar.

"You're from Dorvan V, aren't you?" she asked, now remembering clearer the teenager who Kyril had sponsored into the Academy about the same time she was there with her sibko brothers and sisters. He had met Sekani on a visit to Kindred Dakota's home town.

"Yes, I am. You and I were at the Academy together. They call me Shena."

"I remember."

Sekani cocked her head to one side. "How could you? We've never met before today. We've never been in any of the same classes. You and your 'brothers' and 'sisters' were isolated from the rest of the student body nearly all the time."

Mayla could immediately tell the usage of 'brothers and sisters' was a knowingful nod to indicate she knew more about her and the batch of genetically engineered beings she was gestated with. "You were written up in the underground Academy newsletter."

"*The Balding Tribble*?" Sekani chortled. "You read that?"

"It was required reading for our....social education." Mayla said carefully, not knowing how much this woman knew about her and her sibko's background.

"I assure you, it looked like an accident, but it was all planned out. I wouldn't jump off a cliff with an instructor in tow unless I was certain to live through it."

"I heard you almost didn't."

"Just semantics, Commander. It wasn't me screaming in terror on the way down to the ground." Sekani couldn't help but to laugh again, but her face turned soft and serious in an instant just as the lift stopped. "Commander, if I may speak freely. He may not say it, but he misses you very much."

Mayla didn't respond as the doors opened and Sekani led them in silence down a singular hallway that had several doors on either side. They stopped at the last door. "Have a nice visit. My office is just right over here if you need anything at all while you're on board."

"Thank you."

She stood in front of his door for a few moments to collect herself before chiming the door. She was about to see her adopted father for the first time in over seven years.

"Come in," his voice answered, in a very business like tone.

The door opened and she stepped into his office. Kyril Vree, in a Starfleet uniform with his rear-admiral rank insignia, was standing behind a large desk that was void of anything except a single desktop monitor. But floating above the desk surrounding him were at least a dozen screens.

She stood just inside the door and quickly took in the room bare of any decorations, knowing this was a temporary station for him. The Admiral didn't turn to face her as he continued to tap in commands and move data around as if compiling a report of some sort. She continued standing there for nearly a full minute studying her father until he turned to see her.

"Commander, please sit down."

His formal tone pierced her heart. The warmth and adoration he always spoke to her with was absent from his voice and manner. She sat into the chair at his desk without a word as she held back her initial reaction to embrace the man. He just sat there and looked at her with an expressionless face. Both were measuring each other up. She broke the ice.

"Your next check-in wasn't for another week. How did you hear about Sorvek?"

"We came to do an inspection of this ship when-"

"I think while your team came out to pick up the newly commissioned *Pui Man* with a new batch of volunteers, they heard news of Sorvek's death." Mayla interrupted with a louder voice. "So word was sent to you and you came out immediately."

He continued to look at her, hiding his surprise well beneath a face she could still see through. How did she know their scheduled check in date? Just then a voice was in his ear and he nodded. Now Sekani had just notified him that Mayla knew details about the *Pui Man*'s departure date too. There was something amiss here with his daughter and he intended to find out.

"I don't know what you mean. It's just by coincidence we were nearby." He gave her a smile that was different than the ones he usually gave her. She began to tell the changes in him in the past seven years. For the better or for the worse, she couldn't tell yet.

"Did you bring the whole fleet with you, or just one Linea ship?"

Ky's smile was suddenly replaced with a tightlipped frown deciding this had gone far enough. Mayla knew more than she was supposed to. "Just one ship, and only those who wanted to attend the funeral." Now Ky looked at her hard. "Want to tell me how you know so much about the *Pui Man* and our presence here? And how about starting with what happened to Sorvek."

She told him everything, from the restart of Shadow Operations, Jack Dark's impersonation of President Gant, Legion, the Reckoning, to Martok and Sirella's unnatural born child of Jack Dark. And what happened with her contact with Tiken.

"So, you carried Sorvek's katra." Ky said.

"Yes, and there was a unique side effect. As I have absorbed all of Vree's memories as my own when I was younger, so have I absorbed Sorvek's memories and experiences."

"That is indeed an interesting side effect. So you know and feel everything that Sorvek was." There was a slight change in his voice. Was it suspicion? "Including his abilities and skills?"

"I'm not sure. I only carried it for a little while. I haven't...explored everything yet." She took a breath before continuing. "And upon his death, he made me your steward until someone I deem better comes along to take the position."

Now Ky's face changed. So THAT'S how she knew more than she should. And Mayla definitely knew that face when he finally figured it out. She kept her smile inside and stayed just as poised as he. "Because of my current position in Starfleet, I cannot requisition any ships, materiele, nor personnel for you beyond what Sorvek had already put into motion. From the looks of it, you've got one Curiosity class ship coming to you in seven months with a 2.5 multiple volunteer crew complement. And then that's it for the foreseeable future."

Realization that his daughter now held the position as his steward sunk in and he couldn't help but to be apprehensive about how she was going to run things. "We will do the best with what we have. I assume you've read our status reports."

"I have." She answered promptly. She knew he was unsure of what would happen now. "Maybe there is a solution. I need to talk with Jasid." Mayla said plainly.

"He's here," Ky murmured as he gestured to the door. "In one of the other offices. I'll call him in."

Vice Admiral Argonne Jasid walked in the door after a minute and gave Mayla a smile. "Greetings, Commander. It's good to see you."

Mayla returned the warm smile, and avoided looking at Ky. "Admiral Jasid, I need you to return to Starfleet Command to take Sorvek's place. You are the most logical choice to take over stewardship of Blackthorn. You can promote Ammelis and have her take over as CO of Blackthorn Base." Mayla had thoroughly gone through the roster and to honor Sorvek's legacy, she liked to keep as many original Shadow Ops personnel in power. Sadly, there weren't many left.

The Betazoid looked from her to Ky, and then back to her. "And who is authorized to make that transfer?"

"I am," Mayla said. "Sorvek also granted me his security clearance under his final shadow protocols."

"Is that right?" Jasid said. "That would mean you have higher clearance than we do."

Mayla now gave him a stern look. "That's right. Clandestinely." Meaning only when she deemed necessary to evoke the security clearance when needed.

"Sorvek also made her steward." Ky said. "At least for the moment."

The betazoid nodded. "I see." He looked over to her.

"And she carried his katra," Ky said.

"You're kidding." Just one photon torpedo strike after another. Jasid couldn't believe all of the revelations and sudden changes to their hierarchy. But he didn't sense any deception from either of the Trill father or daughter.

"The latter needs to be kept a secret, Kyril." Mayla reprimanded. Ky held up his hand in apology.

Jasid then shook his head. "With all due respect, I cannot go back. I've been embedded here too long and I'll stand out like a sore thumb if I'm suddenly back at Starfleet Command and requisitioning ships and personnel." He looked at Ky with sad eyes. "And we've seen too much. Most of us can't go back."

Mayla gave them both a hard stare and now realized the toll this assignment had been on them. Because of their long-term status, a return to the normal ranks of Starfleet would raise too many questions and attention to their current long-term assignment. She held back a chuckle that would have been in very poor taste if she let it out. It wasn't just a long-term assignment. It was a lifelong assignment; a legacy duty posting that could last generations. Or as long as she deemed it necessary.

"Does that also apply to Kiana?"

Jasid didn't flinch by the use of Ammelis' first name by Ky's daughter. He knew her entire history, being CO of the Blackthorn project. Her body may be 29 years old, but her mind was hundreds of years old, and several lifetimes of memories and experiences from Vree and of the Linea most decorated warriors and strategists. And now, Sorvek's life experiences and knowledge.

"It does," Jasid answered. "And both Ky and I decided it's best if we kept it that way. The risk is too great someone will decide to shut us down and leave the galaxy vulnerable due to short sightedness or complacency."

Mayla understood. It already nearly happened when Shadow Operations was shut down. And most recently, Starfleet and the Federation had nearly fallen into infighting while Jack Dark was impersonating the president. Those that remained in the aftermath would not understand what was being done here. Including all the technology they have there. If any of it were to leak out, it would change more than just the entire galaxy. It would change the way they lived in this universe. Or it could break the universe.

The younger Trill leaned back in her chair. "Then there is currently no one else who can take this mantle. Your ranks will not be replenished nor swapped for as long as I remain steward."

"Then we will wait." Ky said, after being silent this whole time.

"You have no choice," Mayla said.

The two admirals looked at each other, then both looked at Mayla, who now was the sole person in the whole galaxy who knew about Blackthorn once they leave here today. Sorvek had been carrying that lonely responsibility for over a decade now. They understood Sorvek's reasoning behind selecting Mayla to be their steward. No one else would understand the why and what and would interfere with their mission.

The silence of an unknown future for all three of them settled uneasily in the room as the two admirals now had to take orders from a commander. Jasid noticed an awkwardness he'd never seen between the two Trill. It is what it is. "If there's nothing else, I'll take your leave, Steward of Blackthorn."

As soon as the door closed behind Jasid, Mayla looked at Ky and went on the offensive because they were both prolonging the inevitable. The one lingering question she wanted, no, NEEDED, to ask him when she saw him again. And the one question he knew was eventually going to be asked.

"Why haven't you kept in touch with any of us for the past seven years?"

Ky didn't meet her eyes but got up from his chair as if addressing a beeping screen and started tapping around data. "I've been busy."

"Busy?" Mayla took a deep breath and kept her anger down. That wasn't the answer she was hoping for. "You can't estrange yourself from your family. They need you."

He hid his emotions well, better than she thought he would. "They will adapt. Even when I was in Bravo Squad, they didn't see me that often anyway."

"Just knowing you'd come home gave them...gave me...something to look forward to. A sense of comfort and protection knowing you were always there. Without family, all there is left is the work." Mayla now gripped the handrests of her chair. "Tylin quit the Academy and has gone awol. Lessi is distraught with worry." He continued to work as if he didn't hear her. Now she knew what he was doing. Burying himself into his work so he can hide from that responsibility to his own feelings about his family. "You are losing your family here, Kyril, if you continue down this path."

Now he looked at her. "My work is too important. Now being our steward, you know what's at stake and how important Blackthorn is."

"More important than what's going on here? Jack Dark nearly took every empire into anarchy. He instigated rebellion on several planets in the Federation and Klingon empire. Sorvek is dead. Martok is dead. And the Klingon Empire is becoming hostile with the Federation."

"I don't want to hear it."

"What?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. "Don't you care what happens here?"

"I never want to fall into the state of mind that the Federation and what it stands for isn't worth fighting or sacrificing for any more. Even for what it's becoming."

"So you're turning a blind eye to what's happening in your homeland while fighting to protect it? This part of the galaxy could fall apart behind you as you're so focused on a future that may never happen." She was trying to reason with him, but she could tell his mind was already elsewhere. Or was he talking with someone?

"It's easier not to care," he said simply and coldly. "And it's too painful."

That comment made Mayla angry. "Lin and Nilani's deaths hit all of us hard. But you ran away, hiding behind your grief. And behind Blackthorn. You ran away from all of us. Leaving just me to comfort the mourning."

"I had no choice," his tone changed now. "Sorvek saw the end of Shadow Operations approaching after the disbandment of Section 31. He had to move his chess pieces into place to protect the project."

"But that doesn't give you reason not to even check up on us!" Mayla's voice now rising in volume. "I waited YEARS for any word from you. Something to remind me that you even thought about me...about the people you left behind. Grandmother, Jackson, Khymas, Kindred, Tylin, Nielle, Zac, even Dezin, and at least a dozen other people. They keep asking me about you. No one's heard from you."

All of a sudden, she stiffened as one of Sorvek's memories pushed into her vision. It was of him reading a personal report log from Kyril a half dozen years earlier. Her eyes turned narrow as she glared at him through blurry tears welling up in her eyes and a knot tightening in her chest.

"You...you told Sorvek you didn't want to be in contact with your life here anymore?" Her voice cracked at the memory. "Why?"

Ky stopped working and slumped into his chair with guilt and shame. Maybe even remorse. But Mayla didn't want to see it through her own wall of pain. She didn't want to forgive or have sympathy for him either. She didn't even want to hear his response even though she now understood the coolness he had with her. The pain in her chest grew, but anger tipped the scales of her emotions.

"The Linea threat has become my obsession," he held up his hands as if he didn't have many choices in the decisions he had to make. "I've been pursuing that truth for so long, there's nothing else I can focus on. I've seen a future where everyone we knew was dead. Every empire in the galaxy conquered or utterly destroyed. I will sacrifice myself, every last man, woman, and ship under my command before I ever let that happen. No matter the cost."

She sobbed once uncontrollably at the shock. Then she felt something stirring within her. Sorvek's memories touched her mind and her spirit, calming her down. She took several breaths to control her emotions and cleared her eyes of tears. "It will cost you more than your life, or your family. You will lose your living soul to this cause. And regardless if the Milky Way wins or loses, you will lose either way."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

It had always been like this with Kyril, Mayla thought to herself. He continued to sacrifice more and more for the greater good and he now has lost himself entirely into the cause. There was nothing left to sacrifice but an empty shell of a man who ironically still held the symbiont Vree with several lifetimes.

"I'm sorry you think that way, Kyril. I know in your heart you believe that to be true. But somewhere during your journey, you've lost your path. Your life's path." She gestured around them. "This is the Starfleet path; the Federation path. You've forgotten who and what we stood for in your life. You need to step away and reevaluate your work for just a moment and remember why you are doing this in the first place. The burden of an entire galaxy is too much for any one person to bear." She got up from her chair and looked down at him. "Perhaps someday, you will learn to protect and save just your family and those closest to you. In the end, you will come to realize that will be enough to do the same for the galaxy."

Ky couldn't meet his daughter's eyes, and they remained that way for a few moments. Mayla wanted so much for her first face to face meeting with her father to go differently. She had envisioned him standing there with a warm smile and inviting arms open in front of him. She wanted so much to fold into that embrace with him she had waited so long for. And missed.

But the meeting didn't go as she envisioned or hoped for. She could feel the warmth she once had when they were together wither away, leaving a chilling empty void in her chest. Clearly seeing there wasn't anything else to discuss between them right now, it was time to leave.

"I have to go. I'm expected back on the Resurrection soon. I will expect your reports on the next scheduled check-in." Mayla said rather coldly as she started for the door.

"Mayla." A small voice called out from behind her.

Her heart jumped as she stopped short just as the door swished open. She didn't turn around, but just turned her head a bit, not wanting to look at him.

"I'm sorry." She heard him say. She just shook her head and walked through the door, angry and heartbroken.

The Overseer Of The Antevas System

Carnora Entourage

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.03

After the funeral ceremony, the Carnora came up to give their grieving gifts to Sorvek’s sons. The Overseer presented them with a statuette of Sorvek and the Overseer--clad in a robe instead of armour--giving each other a Vulcan salute, while Hworyal gave them a massive book--the cover of which depicted Sorvek holding back a raging fire with a gesture; it was a book of Vulcan meditation techniques that was in the original Vulcan, the Carnora Trade Language, the Olvern language Northern Arnorca, the Ataran language Ondag Hed’var, and the Usarin language of Growmar, representing the three races that had Berserkers.  The first was in honour of that first meeting with Sorvek and The Overseer, the second referring to the meditation techniques that Sorvek had passed on to the young Ryramorl.

“We were unaware the Carnora considered emotional control so important,” said one of the priests.

“The Berserkers do,” said The Overseer.  “They are prone to the most ferocious rages, and over the years have learned techniques to harness it and rein it in.  These meditations were much welcomed amongst them.”

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.03

With his master elsewhere, Ryramorl had some business to do.  He headed for Sarah Pickering and Cody, his face stony.  Reepchip went with him.  “It is highly disrespectful to the dead to gossip with the Mistress of Lust," he growled.  Reepchip said nothing, but his glare was no less stony.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.03

“It is highly disrespectful to the dead to gossip with the Mistress of Lust," Ryramorl growled.  Reepchip said nothing, but his glare was no less stony.

McCulloch sunk his head into his right hand upon hearing Ryramorl’s admonishment and muttered softly to himself.

“She’s not going to back down, is she?" Thompson asked the Scot as he watched with morbid delight as the ever-continuing drama unfolded.

All McCulloch could do was keep his head buried in his hand and nod in the affirmative. After trying to collect his thoughts he turned to the lieutenant. “As flighty as she appears, she is actually a very skilled negotiator for Inverness and handles our client base masterfully. She knows Ryramorl can’t and won’t touch her. Just watch."

Almost true to form, Sarah stepped towards Ryramorl and looked up at him. Shess and Wenn stood nearby --- the Andorian appeared uneasy while the Bajoran was silently fuming.

Sarah narrowed her eyes and studied Ryramorl for a moment before looking down at Reepchip.

“YOU I know." Sarah announced as she turned her attention back towards Ryramorl. “You served with my brother on the USS Ticonderoga."

The Canora stared silently at Pickering for a moment. “And who, dare I ask, is your brother?"

“Well he’s retired now, but at the time he was a Starfleet Marine dropship gunner and combat medic. Sergeant Major Robert Pickering."

Ryramorl stiffened slightly. “Your brother is an honorable man and a warrior. He would not approve of your behavior today."

“Oh, I’m sorry." Sarah announced as she looked first at Ryramorl and then at Reepchip. “Are you under the misimpression I am under my brother’s command?"

Shess grumbled in disbelief.

Ryramorl was well aware that many in the Federation thought the Carnora were backwards and unenlightened when it came to gender roles. Little did he care; this woman had used a ceremony for the dead as an opportunity to play games. “As a member of his tribe, that is no misimpression; to be so is the natural order of things," he said. "And I shall remind him, that should a canid be uncontrollable while in estrus, perhaps it should be kept in its kennel and out of public sight." Inwardly, he wondered if this woman would catch on to the fact that he’d just called her a bitch in heat.

Sarah instantly picked up on the insult yet brushed it aside and smirked confidently at Ryramorl and Reepchip. She had heard worse from the three Nausicaans who insulted and threatened her at a conference two years ago after she rebuffed their romantic advances.

She eyed the Canoras momentarily before again stepping towards Ryramorl. She looked up at him and then spoke in a low, calm tone

“How very modern and... civilized … of you to refer to me as a dog." Sarah stated. “Such a shame we are off on the wrong foot. My brother always spoke kindly of you. You have said your piece now mind your own damn business."

Ryramorl leaned in so his face was nearly touching hers, calmly furious at her behavior.  “Admiral Sorvek of Vulcan meant more to me than you could ever know.  And you acted like his funeral was your own little playground,” he growled, his Carnora accent thickening into something almost feral.  “You have had your fun now mind your own damn manners.”  He then turned from her, teeth bared.

Sarah turned back towards Cody and winked at him. Afterwards she glanced towards Shess and Wenn.

“The Mistress of Lust has a nice ring to it. I think I’ll add it to my name plate on my office door at Inverness." Sarah announced as she looked over her shoulder at McCulloch, took Cody by the hand and started to lead him away from the service.

McCulloch groaned, bowed slightly towards Ryramorl and Reepchip as a sign of remorse for Sarah’s offense and turned towards Shess and Wenn.

“This little #$%^ show needs to stop now." He angrily whispered.

“McCulloch?" Thompson interjected.

“Inverness may have clients here and Sarah’s stunt may have injured the business." The Scot continued, ignoring Thompson.

“McCulloch?" The lieutenant pressed.

“Yes?" Will answered as Thompson gestured towards the petite red headed commander scowling at him from across the temple. Suddenly, she started walking towards the Scot.

“God bless you McCulloch." Thompson announced with a laugh. “You haven’t been part of the team for a week and you’re already providing more entertainment than one could ever hope for in years."

“This is not the place for entertainment," said Ryramorl firmly.  “Should you desire entertainment, Reepchip may set up an obstacle course in the holodeck, and we can watch certain Security officers go through it."

Daryl decided to ignore Ryramorl’s comment and looked with interest at the next episode of McCulloch Drama unfold.

Lt. Daryl Thompson

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

Daryl chuckled inwardly, as he saw the Scottish Lt. Commander cringe once more as the red headed Starfleet officer made her way across the floor towards McCulloch. Daryl tried his best to keep his composure, and looked around the large temple, trying not to burst out in laughter because of the comedic drama show McCullloch got himself into. He tried to find Cody, but he nor Sarah were anywhere to be seen. Daryl chuckled again as he imagined Cody and Sara were kissing somewhere in a dark spot of the temple.

His eyes met Wenn's, the still fuming Bajoran. Daryl grinned at her and continued his gaze across the area. A lot of people were still mingling and flocking together, both Starfleet and native Vulcans. Daryl's gaze moved to the gallery, where there were also lots of people. Suddenly, he froze, as his gaze locked onto something...It felt like his heartbeat stopped for a moment, as he saw that hooded figure again, he also saw on Starbase 61. The figure stood there, looking over the area. Daryl was out of the line of sight of the cloaked figure, so he stepped towards Wenn and Shess, starting a conversation. The Bajoran looked as if she could explode with anger. The Andorian didn't feel comfortable, apparently.

"What do you want now, Mr. Thompson." Wenn hissed.

"Nothing. Just keep talking," Daryl said while he looked besides Wenn onto the gallery to keep an eye on the hooded figure. Wenn wanted to turn around and follow Daryl's gaze. "Don't!" Thompson said. "Just watch me and keep talking."

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

McCulloch watched cautiously as Victoria crossed the temple floor and maneuvered towards his position. As he looked around for an escape route, he noticed Thompson’s demeanor had changed. He appeared guarded and pretended to talk to Shess and Wenn as he studied someone or something off in the distance.

Before the Scot could join his teammate, Victoria appeared on his left and immediately initiated a conversation with Ryramorl and Reepchip. She nodded slightly and complimented the pair by telling them that their names and honorable reputations preceded their arrival at the temple today.

McCulloch scoffed at the compliment and thought it was a bit much. It was bad enough Sarah was playing games with him but now it appeared Victoria was about to bust his hump as well.

He had enough and started to move away from his ex-wife. As Will did, he heard Victoria call after him.

“Lieutenant Commander!" She announced with a tone of authority. “I did not see you salute me nor did I dismiss you."

The Scot looked around his immediate area before turning back towards Victoria. As he scanned the room he saw two of the security officers he had previously encountered observing him from the shadows. The third moved silently across the room, while maintaining visual contact on his commander. McCulloch looked towards Thompson, who was still immersed in his pretend conversation as he continued to stare at something.

“Lieutenant Commander!" Victoria repeated a second time. The Scot grinded his teeth and spun around to salute his ex-wife. Off to the side, Ryramorl and Reepchip watched the display of authority with growing interest.

The Scot stood at attention and stared straight ahead. As he did, Victoria stepped closer and studied him with her piercing green eyes. The Scot shuffled slightly back in slight discomfort.

“I see your neck is starting to bruise." She sweetly whispered. “I suppose what I did is going to leave one hell of a mark."

Will chose not to answer.

“Walk with me McCulloch" She announced as she took two steps back from Will.

“Permission to be dismissed?" The Scot countered.

“Denied. Walk with me. It is not a request." Victoria replied.

McCulloch cursed and fell into line next to her as the pair started to walk towards the exit of the temple. The Scot noticed her security team fell back but still continued to monitor the pair.

“So, who’s the pop tart?" Victoria demanded. Will instantly knew he was asking about Sarah.

“She was a co-worker."

“At Inverness or the #$%^&\*# Black Watch?" Victoria hissed softly.

“Inverness." He replied, choosing not to get into an argument with his ex-wife.

“She’s too young for you." She noted. “And she’s dangerous."

“I’m starting to see that." The Scot conceded.

“She’s clearly using that poor fellow to get to you."

“Perhaps. But I’m not interested."

Victoria eyed the Scot suspiciously before continuing. “First Taryn Kane and now this … girl. Sorvek was right when he told me you had developed a taste for women who exhibited poor judgement or no morals."

“Taryn never did anything to you. She treated you like a sister." McCulloch replied, horrified at Victoria’s comment.

His ex-wife grabbed his left wrist and twisted it sharply. The Scot felt a sharp pain run up his arm. “She sided with YOU in the divorce." She angrily announced.

He yanked his arm free from her grip.

Victoria and Will continued to walk in awkward silence until they passed through the entrance way and stepped into a grassy field. After walking an additional few hundred feet further, the commander stopped and looked at Will.

“I wanted to kill you today." She simply announced without any hint of remorse or regret. “My chief of security made me surrender my sidearm before beaming me down to greet you.

“I should thank him someday." Will replied as he rubbed his wrist and looked around nervously.

“You won’t get a chance." Victoria retorted confidently.

McCulloch nodded in silence. He stared across the field for a moment before looking back at Victoria, hoping to change the subject. “It was a nice service. I only wish I had a chance to give Sorvek a proper goodbye."

“You and me both." She softly announced. “Sorvek would often check in on me over the years. He occasionally told me about you, but I would always brush his updates off."

The Scot chuckled. “Same here. He would keep me apprised of your promotions and your accomplishments."

Victoria smiled and seemed to relax slightly. She looked at Will. “I’m sure you saw me sitting with Mayla Vree during the service?"

“You are still close with her?" Will asked hesitantly.

“We are. She’s like a sister...niece? I don’t know. But today she told me that everyone deserves a second chance … even you." Victoria replied as she glanced at her ex-husband.

“Oh?" McCulloch replied. He was somewhat surprised by the comment.

“But I am not sure if I can do that yet." Victoria announced sadly. “You're too dangerous."

The Scot nodded in silence as he continued to look out across the grassy field. He felt a wave of sadness overcome him and wondered to himself what the pair could have been if he had not betrayed Starfleet to the Black Watch.

After a moment, Victoria spoke again. “Will, I brought you out here to let you know I am reconsidering the withdrawal of my application. I may be going forward with my assignment to the Shadow Operations combat medical team."

McCulloch’s mind suddenly raced with visions of his ex-wife gleefully jamming her fingers into his battle wound as he screamed in pain. He quickly regained his composure and looked at Victoria.

“What changed you mind?" He slightly stammered.

“I haven’t committed yet and I don’t know if I will … but it may have been Mayla’s words during the service that rekindled my interest."

The Scot silently cursed Mayla’s name as thoughts of Victoria refusing pain medicine to him danced in his head.

Lt. Daryl Thompson

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

Thompson kept a close eye on the hooded figure.

“What is going on here?" Wenn demanded.

“I’ll let you know when I figured that out." Wenn raised an eyebrow and looked at the Andorian, who shrugged with a face he didn’t know, nor care much.

“Oh, one thing," Daryl said, as he was surveilling the area “Next time you threaten to gut me, you better be careful. I don’t like being threatened like that…" Wenn looked at him, still angry, but kept her mouth shut.

Daryl carefully moved away from the two Inverness members and contacted Beckett over subvoc.

“Beckett, I need your help." He got no reply, the channel stayed silent. Daryl cursed under his breath. Beckett was probably fully hypnotized by the appearance and doings of Sarah Pickering. Slowly he moved towards the huge stone stairs that led to the gallery. He tried to contact McCulloch over subvoc, but he didn’t answer either. Daryl shook his head in frustration.. While he carefully moved up the stairs, he tried to find the hooded figure again between the mingling people. He found him, about 20 meters away.

At that same moment, the figure looked straight upon him, and after a second, he turned around and started to move away from Daryl, trying to blend in with the crowd and get away.. Daryl cursed again and raised his pace to keep up with the hooded person.

Shess Ch'taolnos (NPC)

Wenn Hikri (NPC)

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

Wenn watched as Thompson stepped away from the conversation. She had served long enough with Bajoran Intelligence to know he was using her and Shess as cover while he surveyed a potential target.

She turned her attention back towards her Andorian counterpart. Shess was embarrassed by Sarah’s behavior today yet was doing his very best to not appear rattled by the multiple transgressions. If any of Inverness’ clients who were present at the funeral had observed what had happened, it could jeopardize the firm’s standing in the intelligence community. Wenn wondered to herself whether or not Shess as acting CEO should terminate Sarah’s employment. Of course, the Bajoran knew McCulloch would not stand for such a drastic action.

Nevertheless, Sarah had been off her game since their time on board the Klingon Bird of Prey. She took McCulloch’s departure from Inverness exceptionally hard and on one occasion had confided in Wenn her true feelings for McCulloch and how she had missed the opportunity to let him know.

Wenn was also disappointed by McCulloch and his new counterparts.  The three could have terminated the inappropriate display before the service but chose not. The Bajoran exhaled loudly through her nose and reminded herself to have a word with McCulloch as well when he returned from speaking with his ex-wife.

Her musings were interrupted as Shess touched her lightly on the arm and gestured for her to speak with him privately. Wenn cocked her head curiously and followed him.

“I think the pair of Carnoras, as well as members of the Overseer’s Guards, are expecting us to explain everything that had just transpired. Or at least apologize for what transpired."

Wenn nodded in understanding. “We’ve been trying for years to gather cultural, economic and political intelligence on the Carnora people."

“Those two won’t like us prodding. They’ll think we’re trying to secure military information from them." Shess replied as he glanced over at Ryramorl and shuddered at his massive size.

“We’ll be up front with them." Wenn announced. “Many of our clients are looking for economic inroads and trade opportunities with Carnora society. A better understanding of their cultural, economic and political structures could assist greatly with peaceful introductions."

The Andorian nodded in agreement. Afterwards the pair approached the Carnoras and bowed slightly to the group. Inverness’ CEO then spoke.

“My name is Shess Ch'taolnos. I am the Chief Executive Officer of Inverness. This is my Chief Intelligence Officer, Wenn Hikri. We were hoping we might speak with you about Carnora culture and society. We have several clients who have questions about your society, and we were hoping you could answer them for us."

Lt. Daryl Thompson

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

Daryl kept evading people while he tried to keep up with the hooded man. At least, Daryl was convinced it was a man. To be more specific, Daryl was convinced it was Greg Durham, his former best friend.

He and Greg went back a long time, until the start of Shadow Operations. They had been close friends for a long time; however, part of the ‘friendship’ had been continued by Daryl’s clone.

A strike of anger shot through his thoughts. Daryl grimaced and notched up his speed a

bit to shorten the distance between him and what he thought would be Greg Durham. He followed the hooded figure left and right, and he had been aware he wasn’t in the temple anymore. But he had to know...who this was…. why he was running away from Daryl.

He followed into an alley, and a suspicious feeling came up...Daryl slowed down a bit. The alley had lots of dark spots which easily could hide someone, even though it was almost noon on Vulcan. The walls were high, taking away most of the light. The man he was following ran around the corner, and Daryl followed swift, but cautious through the shadowed alley. As he stepped around the corner, the hooded man stood there, just a few meters away from Daryl.

“Got to go mate," a voice sounded from below the hood. Daryl instantly recognized that

voice. He stood there, perplexed, as the man was enveloped in the light of a transporter beam.

Just before he vanished, he pulled back the hood, and Daryl was shocked even more, as he looked into the, now deformed and scar-ridden face of his former friend, thought to be long lost and dead.

Thompson needed a few moments to recollect himself. He quickly opened a Channel to the Darva. "Hey, Daryl here. Could you check any transporter beams in my vicinity the past 5 minutes? "

"Sure, hold on…is something wrong? Her voice sounded a Little bit concerned.

" I don't know, yet." Daryl replied.

"No incoming or outgoing transports in your area… " She said after a few seconds.

Daryl exhaled. "That's impossible. " He said. "I saw someone beaming out here, right in front of me. "

"Daryl, the sensor logs show nothing. I also checked the transporter relays in the immediate surrounding area. No activity. "

Daryl exhaled again. "Ok. Thanks. I'll see you soon." And after a short ponder. "I'll explain later, ok? Now I first need to find Beckett. Later!"

The Overseer

High Elder Shaman-Engineer Zarza Horlasavarsavar

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

After the ceremony, The Overseer came towards Admiral Macleod, and Zarza’s litter-bearers also brought the ancient Muran over.  The Overseer took the opportunity to shake the Admiral’s hand.  “My deepest condolences for your loss," he said.  His armour hid his expression, and the tone was impossible to read, but he was indeed being sincere.

“Thank you Overseer," MacLeod said as those attending the ceremony began to filter out of the Vulcan temple.

Zarza Horlasavarsavar also passed on his condolences.  “Were you also amongst the crew?" he asked.  “If so, then I apologize in advance--I will not be able to pay my respects in person."

One of his litter-bearers spoke up.  “It was hard enough to convince the House Healers to let him attend this one, oath or no oath."

“I wasn’t even born yet,” responded Admiral MacLeod.

MacLeod was preoccupied with the Carnora delegation, so he didn’t notice Admiral Clancy stepped up to him with Captain Lazarus in tow. When MacLeod finished with Zarza, Clancy moved in to head him off before he met with or spoke with anyone else.

“I need to speak with you and Quentin aboard my ship within the next hour," she told the Scot. “I have to get back to Earth and we have some business to discuss."

MacLeod studied the white-haired woman and saw the urgency of her demeanor, so he gave her a sharp nod, “Of course, admiral. I’ll beam aboard shortly."

“While you speak with her, I must meet with Ryramorl and Reepchip ere they return to you,” said the Overseer.

Carnora Special Forces Rygaran D’Hronarin

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

The Overseer of the Antevas System

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

Ryramorl grunted and looked at his two friends.  The small lights on the headbands of the guards also blinked faster as they looked at each other.  One of them--apparently a semi-aquatic species, judging from his webbed hands--spoke up in a strange monotone.  “We cannot converse with you at this time.  The Overseer wishes to speak with First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral .”

Ryramorl took a deep breath of surprise.  “Apologies, but I have to go.  No sane Carnora passes up a chance to speak with the Overseer.”

The Overseer approached, with others of his guard (again wearing those strange headbands that were clearly grafted to their skulls), and an older, tough Carnora who looked a lot like Rygaran.

Shess and Wenn quickly discovered one thing about Carnora society: whoever this Overseer was, the Carnora considered him a nigh-deity, judging from their body language.

The Overseer looked at the Bajoran and Andorian.  “Should you desire to learn more about the Carnora, you may learn all you need to in the Carnora Enclave on Kazis IX, where you will meet such Carnora as any outsider is likely to encounter.”

“What about their homeworld?” asked Shess.

“If an outsider is welcome in their home system, it is a sign they already know the Carnora.  If an outsider is welcome on their home world, it is a sure sign that they already know the Carnora very well indeed.”

He turned to the Carnora and signed.  [How well is the Trade Language known here?]

[Little known outside the Pentarchy, Hallowed One.  A Ramatisian diplomat was taught it, and that is because he was deaf, but I do not see him here,] Ryramorl signed back.

[Excellent.  I wish to depart from this temple, however, as it is no place for the discussion of matters of state.]

And Shess and Wenn learned another thing about the Carnora:  they had a language that the Universal Translator simply didn’t pick up as it was a signed rather than spoken language.

Away from the temple and in a place where they had some privacy, The Overseer handed Ryramorl a small cylinder.  [This is compatible with Federation Technology.  The Security Buoys are being reactivated and on battle standby.  This contains the code to get past them, should you need to return to Carnor.]

[I may need to return to Carnor soon.  The bones that my great-uncle left me were destroyed, Hallowed One.]

[Already?]

Ryramorl nodded and gave a brief account of what had happened aboard the Chargh’wi.

Rygaran chimed in.  [There are still bones of him left, unclaimed as of yet.  I’ll let Myaral know.]

Ryramorl nodded and sighed.

The Overseer then signed, [Ryramorl, do not be dismayed when you return to Antevas and find that your homeworld is no longer the Carnor of your youth.  The Klingon threat is rising, and all Carnora are preparing to face the threat.]

[...Even my tribe?]

[Especially your tribe.  Your brother took the battle on Kazis IX to heart and began to prepare all the tribes of Ra’yral for such a day within a Turning of his return.]  He saw the troubled look in Ryramorl’s eyes.  [My child, the Old Tribes received a death blow in the Jem’Hadar invasion.  Traditions can be a foundation, but also a snare.  The Carnora must arm themselves to the same level as the Klingons, or the Klingons will overrun the system beginning with the most primitive of the tribes.  Even the Khassa, the Sral, and the Yarrowan are doing this.]

Reepchip squeaked in surprise.  [I thought the Sral and the Yarrowan were nearly extinct!] his hands fluttered.

[My child, what was created in The Citadel can be restored in The Citadel.  We will not let them perish from Carnor that easily.]

[What if Admiral MacLeod asks me about Sorvek’s role?  I don’t think he knows of the true First Contact,] asked Ryramorl.  [And I’ve told him that Carnora do not use cybernetics, but now he’s seen the Banded Priests.]  His hand brushed his missing eye.

[Admiral MacLeod already knows of the Citadel and the Buoys.  He is certain to make very educated guesses, so I give you permission to tell him and him alone the truth.  I trust you to be discrete, however.  Now go and return to your team.  Do your missions well, for a stable Federation buys Carnor more time.  And do not fear for the office of the OverKing, for I have heard your prayers on that subject.]

They bared their throats to the Overseer, and he gently placed a finger on their necks.   Thus dismissed, Ryramorl and Reepchip returned to find their teammates; Hworyal and Rygaran went with them.

Colonel Jahkar

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.04

From one side of the temple, Jahkar and Chas’naH observed the goings on among the team and the entourage McCulloch’s ex-wife had brought to the service. The marine found the entire matter amusing, but at the same time he was reminded why he’d chosen to stay single after his divorce from Dara Ilia and his on-again, off-again relationship with Chas’naH.

Women, he’d decided, were sometimes more difficult than he cared to deal with. Failed relationships were even harder, as the situation between Will and Victoria proved.

“I can hear the gears turning in that head of yours," Chas said to Jahkar as he watched the group gradually dissipating from the temple. “I know what you’re thinking."

His arms folded across his chest, he turned his gaze toward the half-Klingon, “And what is that?"

“You’re happy you don’t have to deal with an ex," she said.

Jahkar shot her a cold stare. His face revealed he’d not taken the comment too kindly. “I never wished death upon Ilia."

Chas shook her head and placed a hand on his arm, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant more like our situation."

He shook his head, “Sorry, I know. The comment took me a little by surprise. I suppose the answer would be yes. I’m glad you and I aren’t at each other’s throats. But then again...we never were close enough to have those kinds of feelings."

Chas’naH smiled, “I’m not the settling down type. You knew that."

“Did I?" he countered. “In the beginning, back on Fearless, you seemed like you wanted to settle down, marry and have kids."

Chas looked down at the floor and shook her head, “I...changed."

“I know," Jahkar agreed. “You did...I think I did too. You were always off somewhere. I got so I looked forward to these times when we could see each other, but then you’d be off somewhere else."

“I couldn’t have dealt with those years you went to officer’s training school, then the training job on Earth," Chas’naH said. “To sit still in one place that long...I’m surprised you didn’t keel over from boredom."

He laughed, “I stayed active. Special assignments when I was training marine recruits. Plus, I had kids to raise. I needed to put down some roots for them until they were grown."

Chas’naH smiled, “You are a good father. I just don’t think I could have been a great mother."

Jahkar gave a deep sigh and the two started toward one of the temples exits. “Want to join me? Take in some of the Vulcan sites."

“It’s a lot of dirt, orange skies and rocky mountains," she laughed. “I can’t, Jahkar. I’m leaving aboard Commodore Oh’s ship. She’s briefing me on my new assignment en route to Earth."

Jahkar stopped and turned to stare at the woman, “Seriously? You’re leaving now?"

She gave him a sad look, “Sorry. But this was a temporary thing. I wouldn’t even be here if Resurrection hadn't rescued me and the crew of the Invincible."

Jahkar frowned, “You’re right. I had just gotten used to having you around again. My mistake for getting comfortable."

Chas leaned in and the two kissed. She then pulled back and looked up at him, a sadness in her eyes, “It was fun. The fighting and killing, the bloodwine and the sex."

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.05

Will and Victoria continued to stare in silence across the grassy field outside of the temple. In his mind McCulloch continued to replay scenarios of his ex-wife denying him basic medical treatment. The thought of her assuming command of a combat medical team attached to his operative unit frightened him.

“Request permission to be dismissed?” McCulloch again requested.

“Denied.” She replied. It was clear Victoria was enjoying making her ex-husband squirm.

There was another moment of awkward silence before the Scot spoke. “Where the hell did you learn to fight like that? Did Mayla teach you hand to hand tactics?”

Victoria chuckled slightly. “No.”

“Where then?” McCulloch pressed. “When we were together you were tough but your fighting skills were limited to your Starfleet training.”

There was a pause before she answered. “Sorvek.”

“Sorvek?” The Scot replied with surprise.

“He arranged for me to receive advanced combat training five years ago.

“May I ask why?” McCulloch inquired.

Victoria glared at him momentarily in response to the foolish question. “You may not.”

McCulloch nodded silently. The fact that Sorvek was training her in operative level combat techniques concerned him but the Scot assumed it was related to her desire to eventually lead a combat medical team.

He looked across the field one last time and then turned to walk away from her. Although he felt great sorrow at causing the collapse of their marriage, he refused to remain around her a minute longer.

As he walked away, Victoria followed him. “Where the $%^& do you think you are going?”

“Back to my team. There’s not much more for us to say.” He answered as he looked over his shoulder. He picked up his pace, but Victoria matched him.

“Going to say goodbye to the pop tart?” She sneered.

“None of your business Victoria.” He calmly answered.

Suddenly it dawned on him that Victoria perceived Sarah as a threat. He stopped in his tracks, spun and stepped towards his ex-wife. Victoria was caught off guard and collided into Will’s chest. He looked down into her eyes.

“You’re jealous.” The Scot announced knowingly.

Victoria scoffed and took a step back. She folded her arms before looking at the Scot in disgust. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, otherwise you wouldn’t be making these snide comments.”

“I’m making these comments because she’s inappropriate.” Victoria countered.

“Jealous.” The Scot replied with a smirk before resuming his walk back towards the temple.

Victoria groaned out loud, threw her hands up in the air and called after the Scot. “Hey Will!”

“Yes?” He replied without looking back at her.

“I’ll see you again real soon.”

McCulloch cursed out loud. It may not happen for days or perhaps even weeks, but he knew at some point his ex-wife was going to be joining the medical team attached to his unit. The Scot made a note to himself that he needed to speak with Mayla as soon as he returned to the ship.

As the Scot approached the temple entrance, he found Thompson standing off to the side. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. Nearby were Shess and Wenn. Both of them appeared agitated. The Scot chose to approach Thompson first.

“You don’t look good.” Will announced matter-of-factly to the lieutenant.

“It’s nothing. Just something I saw a short time ago. I’ll explain when we return to the ship”

The Scot studied Thompson for a moment but chose to say nothing. He turned towards Shess and Wenn, who had walked over to join the duo.

“We just had a wonderful conversation with elements of the Canoran delegation.” Shess announced sarcastically.

“Oh?” Daryl replied.

“No.” Wen answered curtly.“ We got little information from them. Odd species.”

“Where is she?” McCulloch asked, changing the subject.

“She’s still with the lieutenant in a tavern two blocks from the temple.”

“Let’s go.” Will ordered, determined to put an end to this fiasco. Thompson nodded in agreement.

The four made their way through a pair of alleyways before emerging before a Vulcan Tavern. The Scot recognized it as the one he had visited earlier in the day with Cody and Daryl. McCulloch cursed under his breath. He knew the booze flowed freely and cheaply in the establishment.

“How long has it been since the pair disappeared?” Will demanded.

“At least an hour, maybe more.” Wenn answered.

“They’re going to be drunk and gropy.” Thompson chuckled.

“If we don’t hurry up Lieutenant Beckett will be married to her.” Wenn noted.

“What the hell is going on inside her head?” McCulloch demanded of the Andorian and Bajoran.

Wenn sighed. “She hasn’t been the same since our time on board the Klingon Bird of Prey.”

“Go on.” The Scot demanded.

“She has taken your departure from Inverness exceptionally hard. She recently confided in me her true feelings for you and believes she missed the one and only opportunity to tell you her feelings.”

“Wow, ex-wives and executive assistants fighting for your attention Will. I wish I had your problems.” Thompson quipped. Wenn eyed the lieutenant momentarily but chose to say nothing.

McCulloch blushed slightly. He sighed and gestured for Thompson, Wenn and Shess to follow him into the tavern.

As they entered the dimly lit and somewhat seedy establishment, the four visually scanned the room. Eventually Daryl tapped Will on the arm and pointed to a table in the far corner. Sarah was seated on Cody’s lap and her tongue was halfway down his throat. The table top was covered with empty mugs and shot glasses.

McCulloch and Thompson cursed simultaneously.

Eventually Sarah came up for air and looked around the room. Her eyes landed on the four. She let out an enthusiastic “woo” sound and gestured for the four to join her.

“Did she just ‘woo’ us?” Thompson asked.

“She did.” Shess replied with a tone of disappointment.

“You five, you need to join us.” Sarah slurred as she waved them over.

“She’s so sloshed she thinks there’s five of us.” McCulloch observed.

“There are.” Thompson quietly replied as he gestured for the Scot to look to his immediate right.

McCulloch yelped and stepped back into Thompson. Victoria had followed Will to the tavern. She scowled at Sarah.

“Definitely a poptart. A drunk poptart, but a poptart nonetheless.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” McCulloch demanded. Victoria pointed to a medical officer passed out in her own vomit at a nearby table. “That one is mine.”

“Impressive.” Thompson conceded.

Victoria looked around the bar and studied the patrons for a moment. “This tavern reminds me about this one time at Starfleet Academy …”

McCulloch interrupted his ex-wife with a wave of his hand, signaling he wasn’t interested in what she had to say. Instead, he turned to Daryl. "Shall we shut down this show?”

Lt. Daryl Thompson

Vulcan tavern

Stardate 2102.05

Daryl nodded to Will, and together they walked towards the drunken duo. Cody was just grinning, and tried to empty the large mug of Vulcan booze. Daryl grabbed the New Zealander’s arm, grabbed the mug and put it back on the table. Cody just grinned. He looked pretty wasted.

Sarah grabbed Daryl by the collar of his uniform. “You are cute too,” she slurred.

“Thank you, what a nice thing to say.” He replied. He took her hand and pulled it loose from his uniform. Will took over and grabbed her under her arms to get her off Beckett’s lap. Daryl supported Cody, otherwise he would have fallen out of the chair. “Come on, big fellow, I’ll get you back to the ship.“

Beckett just kept grinning and mumbled something unintelligible. Daryl hoisted Cody over his shoulder. He looked at McCulloch who was trying to keep Sarah at bay, as she tried to kiss him as well. Then, suddenly, she started throwing up, wasting McCulloch’s dress uniform. McCulloch cursed out loud.

Daryl grinned. “See you at the ship in a few moments.” He opened comms and requested to beam him and Beckett up.

As he materialized on the transporter padd of the Resurrection, Lazarus and MacLeod just walked in. Lazarus’ was not amused at what he saw...“What the %^^$%%.....what happened?”

Daryl’s grin disappeared, as his mind raced to make up a story to cover both for Beckett and McCulloch. “Sorry sir. Beckett met an old friend and they had a few drinks. Apparently he isn’t used to certain Vulcan alcoholic beverages.”

Lazarus scoffed. “Get him to his quarters. I’ll deal with him later. “

“Yes, sir,” Daryl replied, and made his way out of the transporter room.

Finally, he reached Cody’s quarters. He entered, and laid the bulky lieutenant on his bed.

“Darn, what a dead weight you are when you are out,” Daryl said. Beckett didn’t react. It would probably take a few hours before he would awake.

“Sleep tight, love bird.” Daryl smirked before he left the room. As he was on his way to his own quarters, he opened a channel to McCulloch. “Thompson here. I ran into Lazarus. He was kind of pissed. I made up a story Beckett ran into an old friend and they drank too much. He is off the ship now, he just beamed out with MacLeod. How is the uniform doing?”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.05

McCulloch let out a string of expletives after Sarah vomited all over his dress uniform. The stench of bile and undigested booze filled his nostrils. The Scot angrily cursed again.

Daryl grinned. “See you on the ship in a few moments.” He opened comms and requested to beam him and Beckett up.

As the duo disappeared in a blue light, Will heard Victoria laugh. He looked towards his ex-wife and saw she was holding up a personal padd device and recording the entire incident.

“Mayla is going to love seeing this.” Victoria announced as she keyed the device twice and sent the recording to the Trill via a subchannel.

She then tapped her comm badge. “*Attenborough*, two to beam up.”

Victoria raised her right middle finger to Will and smirked as she and the passed out science officer disappeared from the establishment.

McCulloch cursed again. Suddenly his comm badge chirped.

“Thompson here. I ran into Lazarus. He was kind of pissed.I made up a story Beckett ran into an old friend and they drank too much. He is off the ship now, they just beamed out. How is the uniform doing?”

The Scot grumbled as he looked down at his dress uniform. There was no way he was going to be able to clean it up in a short time. The last thing he needed was Lazarus seeing him in this condition. He slowly tapped his badge.

“McCulloch. The uniform is still...ummm...decorated. I’m going to buy some time before beaming up. Do me a favor, send me directions for the fastest route to my quarters.”

The Scot looked at Sarah, who was...to be blunt...a hot mess. She was now crying and profusely apologizing to McCulloch for her behavior.

“I assume you came to Sorvek’s funeral on the *SS Kinsale*?” Will asked, ignoring Sarah’s overtures.

“We did.” Shess answered. “We’re taking Sarah to the sloop now.”

“Will, what should we do about Sarah?” Wenn pressed. “We dodged a bullet today. If any of our major clients had witnessed this behavior, we would have been in serious trouble.”

The Scot nodded in understanding. He thought about the situation for a moment as he mentally reviewed Inverness’ options.

“We’re not firing her.” Will eventually announced with a tone of authority.

Wenn nodded in agreement. “But she needs to get her head on straight.”

“Give her a month’s vacation with pay and send her to her brother and sister-in-law on Earth. Sarah adores her nieces and nephews and the visit might do her some good.”

Wenn and Shess signaled they understood.

The Scot continued. “But before she returns to work, have her sit down with Inverness’ legal counsel and review what is and is not considered proper etiquette when acting in her official capacity.”

“We will.” Wenn assured her.

McCulloch watched as the Bajoran and Andorian carried Sarah out of the tavern. Afterwards, he tapped his comm badge.

“Resurrection, one to beam up.”

Will was surrounded in a bright light and then materialized in the Resurrection’s transporter room. The transporter chief looked at McCulloch’s vomit covered dress uniform and started to ask a question.

McCulloch held up his hand as he stepped off the pad and walked towards the exit. “Not a word.”

As he stepped into the hallway, he observed Commander Vree standing there still in her dress uniform, looking at a recording on her padd. McCulloch instantly knew it was Victoria’s transmission. He looked down, spun around and started to return to the transporter room.

“Lieutenant Commander McCulloch...a word.” Vree ordered. The Scot stopped in his tracks and cursed softly under his breath. He stepped back into the hallway and stood at attention...chunks of vomit slowly oozed down the front of his uniform.

Vree studied the condition of his uniform, then looked at the bruises forming on his neck and then looked back at his uniform.

McCulloch continued to stare ahead, waiting for the Trill to address him.

"You need to get yourself cleaned up."

He stood up straighter, or as straight as he can now that the vomit had soaked through to his skin. "Yes, sir."

"You need to stop drinking, period. Security reported the alcohol you brought on board."

He almost stammered at the simple sounding request. But it was far from a simple act. "I'll...try, Commander."

"That's your first order of business. If you don't, I'll have to doctor inject you with nanomachines that will make you violently sick every time you drink anything that resembles alcohol." She tapped a key on the padd and lowered it. "Sorvek thinks you would be an asset to our team. For the sake of his memory, don't prove him wrong."

All he could do was nod. "I will do my best."

"In your case, I need you to do better than that. Because of your past history, you need to work twice as hard to gain everyone's trust again in the field. Every fiber of my being says otherwise. But I trust Sorvek, and I hope he was right." She took a step back as the smell was starting to stagnate around them. "Have I made myself clear?"

The Scot was taken aback by Mayla’s comments. Since arriving on the Resurrection he had envisioned Vree doing everything short of shooting him out an airlock so as not to interact with him. Yet here she was offering him a second chance.

He looked at her carefully and simply asked “You are giving me a second chance?”

“Against my better judgement and to honor Sorvek’s request...yes.” Mayla responded.

The Scot relaxed slightly as a blob of Sarah’s vomit fell off his uniform and splattered on the floor between his feet. Vree eyed him carefully.

“What about Victoria’s recording she just sent you?” The Scot inquired.

The commander held up her padd for the Scot to see. She tapped on the delete button. “What recording, Lieutenant Commander?”

McCulloch sighed in relief. “Thank you sir.”

“Your problems with Victoria Smith should not be my problems, regardless of my relationship with her.” Mayla warned. “At some point you and I both know she might arrive here as part of a combat medical team. If and when that time comes, I expect you to deal with it in an appropriate manner that is becoming of a Starfleet officer. Even a provisional one.”

“Yes sir.” He replied.

“She is furious with you for just cause but she is also not using her best judgement right now. Keep that in mind.”

McCulloch nodded in silence. He carefully reflected for a moment before speaking to her. “Sir, I will do everything in my power to restore your trust in me. I betrayed your father and did unspeakable things during my time with the Black Watch. That will haunt me for the remainder of my life. I only hope I can restore some semblance of honor with his daughter.”

Mayla stood there and stared at him for another full minute before speaking again. "Get cleaned up, get into your gear, and meet me in the holodeck in 30 minutes."

Lt. Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.06

Daryl had changed from his dress uniform into his regular SO uniform. He was in the mess hall. A plate with food sat in front of him, barely touched. Daryl was thinking, while mulling over the food on his plate with a fork.

The whole situation with Beckett, Sarah, Pickering, and McCulloch had been hilarious, the fact he had seen his former best friend back in the alley had shocked him deeply. Yet, there was no evidence to prove it.

Darva had done a thorough job. No evidence whatsoever could be found. Daryl was doubting himself, again. Did he start seeing things again? Once more the thought of not being fit for field duty crossed his mind. It scared and frustrated him.

Agitated, he shoved the plate aside and set back, trying to calm his mind. He looked through the window, which showed the yellow and orange coloured Vulcan homeworld. Daryl gazed into the black void, trying to settle down a bit. He knew what he had seen was real, no doubt. Yet, it was pretty discomforting.

The door from the mess hall opened, and Darva walked in. She smiled and waved the moment she saw him. She walked towards him and sat down. "Hey, what's up, you look worried." Daryl looked at Darva, collecting his thoughts. "I saw something that shouldn't be possible. "He gazed through the window again, as if to find answers there. "I saw the older version of my former best friend, who, according to all logs, is dead. "

Darva looked at him. "I don't know what to say. I believe you. I really do. But nothing showed on the sensors. "

"I know. Don't apologize. I'm trying to form theories about that. Maybe he's a future version. Or alternate timeline. Mirror universe. "

As he said it, Daryl unwillingly thought back of the mission, some 20 years ago, that moment he was "killed" by an android from an alternative future. He sharply exhaled and pushed that thought, along with a boot load of mixed emotions aside. "I think I need to talk to Vree about this. "

Darva took his hand. "I'm with you on this, Daryl. Let me know if you need help. "

Daryl looked at Darva, studying her face. She looked worried "Thank you," He said, and smiled warmly.

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin

Head of Carnora Special Forces Hworyal Andruvar

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Hworyal, Reepchip, Rygaran, and Ryramorl entered the tavern just in time to see the sodden McCulloch beam away.  Hworyal growled.  [Transporters,] he signed and shuddered.  The four all got water and had their water-sharing ceremony.

[Rolandhar Ro’ar is no longer drooling over the throne,] Hworyal signed to Ryramorl and Reepchip.  [The Overseer straight up told him he didn’t care who became OverKing.  The laws of succession are ours, not handed down from the Messengers, so his claim as being The Messengers’ Chosen went out the window.  And besides…]  He paused to take another drink of water before continuing.  [Shor-Ghan’s bodyguards are loyal to him because they’re loyal to me, and I’m loyal to him because he’s Shor-Ghan.  Shor-Talo’s bodyguards are loyal to him because they’re loyal to me, and I’m loyal to him because he’s determined to keep the Carnora races in one piece.  When--IF--Rolandhar ascends the throne, he’ll find his bodyguards are loyal to me, and I’m loyal to the Pentarchy.  And Rolandhar knows this.]

[The Pentarchy will do well under your leadership,] signed Reepchip.

[That is, of course, if Shor-Talo’s plans to mate and present his father with a grandchild don’t fall through.  The Mrr’vallraow Island tribe seems to be willing, but who knows.]

[The Coastal Tribes have always been a law unto themselves, whether with the Olvern or Ataran.] put in Rygaran.  [But the idea of him siring a replacement heir has gotten the attention of a number of tribes.]

Reepchip snorted.  [I’d support Rolandhar as an OverKing,] he signed, and the three Olverns looked at him sharply.  [Think of it--they get YOU as a ruler, plus they get an OverKing they can slap around to their heart’s content.]  The four burst out laughing.

Then Hworyal sobered.  [One problem with that:  His father Lyar knows exactly how strong the Ro’ar tribes are--and he doesn’t know how powerful the other Olvern tribes are.  Shor-Talo’s plan of siring a replacement heir is the best.]

Ryramorl turned to Rygaran.   [When you talk to my brother, suggest that the Holder of the name Rowyan in the Yawarl Tribe of Ra’yral present his sister.  She’s of mating age and has few prospects, AND he’s from one of the New Tribes.]

[Using mate bonding as a political tool,] signed Reepchip.  [The Messengers would mourn.]

[You don’t know them as well as I do,] signed Hworyal.  [They’d be bursting with pride.]

[As long as we get someone strong when we face the Klingon Bastards] signed Reepchip.

Rygaran’s hands had a disgusted flip to them.  [And seeing what cowards they are in duels, who knows what they will be capable of when they invade.]

[Cowards?] asked Hworyal, raising an eyebrow.

[They are armed and armoured in their Great Duels,] snapped Rygaran.  [I’ve seen them do this.]

Hworyal’s lip curled in equal disgust--a proper duel to the death was done wearing nothing and wielding nothing but what one was born with.  [Cowards in duels indeed.]

[What do you expect from a race that literally scoffs at water, and boasts they killed their own gods?] asked Ryramorl.

Commander Mayla Vree & Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.07

Mayla perused through a few of the sims before deciding on one that was moderately difficult. She ran through it and was satisfactory with what it would show her depending on how McCulloch handled it. From what she 'remembered' of his performance in Bravo Squad, he was meticulous with his technical skills. But she wanted to see his decision-making process when his actions became ambiguous. His passion and protectiveness for those closest to him had clouded his judgement to make decisions that became detrimental to himself and those who trusted and relied on him the most.

The holodeck door opened, and Will walked in full combat gear. She stood in the middle of the room behind a table that had the TR390 rifle with several magazines laid out on top. She gestured to it and he began to check it. She watched him closely as this was her weapon of choice for several years. She picked up a device from the table and walked around the table to him.

"This is a visual enhancement eye lens that will display the rifle's targeting reticle directly into your eyes." She held up the tube-like device and held it to his right eye. "Keep your eye open." With a puff of air, he kept his eye opened and 'felt' something lay across the surface of his eyeball. She repeated the procedure with his other eye. Then picking up the rifle and activating it, she handed it over to him and pressed a synchronization code. In his eyes, information on ranging, ammunition type and count, and even environmental conditions were fed directly to his eyes through his hands.

"Once synced, you can lock the rifle for your usage only. It's handy when you're in the field or during an engagement." She unslung her own rifle to show him. "You can use your thumb controls to select and tag multiple targets, also predetermine the type of round you want to use in succession. As a sniper rifle, the round fired is invisible to most lifeforms. The subsonic round will keep the sound of the round at a minimum. In a firefight, no one will hear it."

Will swung the rifle around and watched the information change in his eyes. "Is this what you've been using?" He asked, noticing her familiarity with the weapon. "Even for a sniper?"

"Yes on both questions. I've been using it in the field for a few years now. I'm sure Jahkar asked you if you carried a backup weapon. We usually do, but this rifle functions as both an energy weapon and non-energy weapon. It's been rated to still function as a projectile weapon even in an energy dampening field." She started to look over his load out on his fatigues.

"Jahkar was really pushing for his rifle."

"Of course he was. He's a marine. We are used to whatever we are comfortable with. I want us all to be familiar with any type of weapon." She gestured to the standard hand phaser strapped on one thigh, and a TR390P pistol strapped on the other.

He nodded and for just a split moment, was afraid of what she could do with all of those weapons. He was sure she, like her father, was also armed with other hidden weapons. Including the twin katanas she had strapped to her back into her body armor.

"I've reviewed the sim you've already done with Jahkar. We will do something different today." She walked over to the control panel and brought up a sim. Although, it was more of a reenactment of an assault on a Klingon stronghold. The scenery changed to a rocky terrained world. They were at a precipice of a 500 meter wide chasm, with a large fortress built into and on top of the cliff on the other side.

"We are in the Hamar Mountains on Qo'noS. Klingon Intelligence says that stronghold houses a Klingon splinter cell who are prepared to bomb the Council chambers with all of the members of the Klingon High Council in it. This cell has been secretly building their forces and performing acts of terrorism in various cities on the planet by recruiting houseless Klingons. Intelligence says there are somewhere between 80 and 100 warriors in this cell."

She pointed to the horizon. "We will approach on foot under the cover of darkness from 10 kilometers out. Our mission is to eradicate everyone in that stronghold, by a 'request' from Chancellor Martok to Starfleet Intelligence."

"Where is our entry point?" Will asked, studying the fortress surroundings.

She used a pointer to point out a door guarded by two armed Klingon guards just below the cliff's edge. "Garbage door. They bring out their garbage here and dump it down into the chasm. It's crude, but it's a way for them to reduce their energy usage and signature to stay hidden. There is a wide path that leads to the bottom of the chasm a thousand meters below. We'll come within a kilometer and rappel down to the path and approach from there."

"Just the two of us?" Will asked.

Mayla tapped a key on a padd she had pulled out from a pocket. Simulations of the rest of Phoenix Team appeared around them. "Their AI is limited only to the skills they've performed during the sims we've all been doing ever since the Team's inception."

Will nodded, and knew this was going to be a bloody battle. "Holographic weapons?"

"Yes, this time." She said without hesitation. "Computer, safety protocol override at 80%. Authorization Vree pi 993 code blue alpha. Run program."

Their surroundings changed and they were in a large field covered with volcanic rock formations. Phoenix Team stood at the ready.

Will hefted the TR390 rifle to the ready position to the ready position, slapped a magazine into the weapon and nodded at Mayla.

"Eight, take point. Seven, cover the rear. Five, send out two Sky Eyes in perimeter stealth mode. Move out."

Charatetet darted ahead quickly in between boulders and rock to take point. The rest of Phoenix Team moved ahead with Ra'yral covering the rear. Thompson only paused for a moment to quickly select the preprogramming for two Sky Eyes nanoprobes and released them into the air. Under the cover of darkness, the shadows moved forward beneath the Praxis moon light.

Commander Mayla Vree & Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.07

After covering the 10-kilometer distance, successfully repelling down the sheer cliff wall, and eliminating the guards quietly, Phoenix Team found themselves inside a long, dimly lit tunnel. The Scot noted the walls, floor and ceilings were all carved out of stone.

Charatetet continued on point and advanced down the darkened hallway to a T junction. He held up his paw as a signal for the team to halt momentarily. After a moment of silence, he again signaled the team to advance and quickly turned right at the junction in the hallway. Vree and Jahkar followed the Canora while Thompson, McCulloch and Sh'avelith turned left and advanced towards a partially opened door. Sh'avelith halted and trained her weapon on the doorway. Thompson reached into his backpack, retrieved a black camera ball and silently tossed it to McCulloch. The Scot went up to the entranceway, rolled the ball into the room and then pressed his body against a nearby wall.

The lieutenant studied the camera images for a few seconds before signalling there were four targets inside the room. McCulloch nodded in understanding, stepped forward and kicked the door fully open. Thompson and Sh'avelith rushed in, weapons at the ready. There were a series of short puffs followed by the Klingons crumpling to the ground.

The Scot entered the room. He immediately recognized it as a kitchen and Thompson and Sh'avelith may have just killed the cooks. As McCulloch surveyed the area, he observed a shadow moving in the far corner of the room. He raised his rifle to the ready and silently crossed the room in the event the ball camera had missed a target. As he closed in, he noticed the “target” was nothing more than a Bok-rat scurrying across the kitchen floor. The Scot activated his subvocal.

“One this is four, the kitchen is clear.” He reported.

“Understood, rejoin the team.” Vree ordered.

The trio backed out of the kitchen and silently moved down the hallway. Ra'yral was still covering the rear. The team continued to advance down the darkened hallway until they came to an open common area that was flanked by a pair of doors and a large stone stairway that ascended to the next level.

McCulloch silently cursed to himself as he surveyed the common hallway and stairwell. The area provided no cover and the team could be at a tactical disadvantage if it engaged in a firefight. Vree silently studied the area before ordering Charatetet to advance across the room to the stairwell and hold a position about halfway up.

The Scot heard Vree over the subvocal order the rest of the team except for Ra'yral and McCulloch to move into position and take the two rooms off of the common area. The Canora was ordered to hold the rear. Vree had other plans for the Scot.

“Four, Eight reports the stairwell curves up to a second level landing. Leap frog past Eight and secure the landing.”

“Acknowledged One.” McCulloch replied as he glided across the common area. He scanned the corners and ceiling for evidence of sensors or cameras. Oddly there were none. Upon reaching the foot of the stairwell, he quickly bounded up the stairs towards Charatetet. As he passed the Ensign, he silently nodded to him and then activated his personal cloaking device. As he disappeared from view he cautiously ascended the remainder of the stairs until he reached the landing.

McCulloch instinctively halted. He could hear the thumping of heavy boots on stone approaching his position. Moments later a Klingon patrol composed of six targets rounded the corner and was approaching the landing. They were all heavily armed. Will withdrew a stun grenade from a pouch strapped to his right thigh, activated it and lightly tossed it towards the patrol. There was a soft hum followed by a series of grunts and bodies hitting the stone floor.

The Scot scanned the area and observed a pair of sensors along the right-hand wall.

“One, have the team hold position.” McCulloch ordered as he withdrew a second stun grenade that would discharge an electromagnetic pulse. He tossed the grenade across the room and waited for the soft hum. He looked up and saw the sensors were offline.

“One, this is Four. The targets and sensors disabled, holding the landing and the team may advance.” McCulloch announced as he cautiously advanced down the hallway towards the turn where the Klingon patrol had appeared from. McCulloch crouched low against a wall, aimed his weapon forward and waited for the remainder of the team to arrive.

“Four, what do you see around the corner?” Charatetet asked as he arrived at the landing.

The Scot was tempted to ask for Thompson and his magic camera ball but chose otherwise. He edged forward and peered around the corner, looked back at the offline sensors and then looked back around the corner.

“Eight, it’s a sallyport with a fortified door at the other end. I think the sensors I just took out were part of an early warning system.” Will reported.

“Stand by,” Charatetet replied.

Moments later the remainder of the team joined the Scot in the hallway.

Vree, Jahkar and Raillius passed McCullochs position and turned into the sallyport. Silently the marine set charges to the corners of the door while Raillius scanned the frame for evidence of traps. Vree aimed her rifle towards the door in the event it unexpectedly opened.

The Scot could hear himself breathing and his blood pressure rising as he watched the trio perform their work. Moments later, they backed away from the door and exited the sallyport.

“Four, Five and Six...prepare to move on my mark.” Vree ordered.

There was a series of muffled pops as the door was blown off its track. It creaked as it fell into the sallyport and hit the stone floor with a loud bang. McCulloch didn’t even have time to curse as Vree immediately ordered the trio through the door.

Thompson and Sh'avelith quickly tossed a pair of stun grenades into the room and stepped to the side as the Scot passed between. His years of training with Shadow Ops, as well as his experiences with “independent work” after Starfleet dissolved Taryn Kane’s mercenary team were all coming back to him. He entered the room and saw four Klingons lying on the ground unconscious. As he looked about he realized he was inside a security control room that controlled who came into the fortress and who left.

Behind him he heard the methodical discharge of phaser fire. McCulloch knew one or more of his team members were executing the unconscious Klingons he had previously stunned. The Scot sighed with disappointment as he slung his rifle over his shoulder and withdrew his pistol. As Thompson and Sh'avelith watched, he went up to each stunned Klingon and discharged his weapon.

The Andorian pointed to a nearby doorway and then spoke into her subvocal. “This leads further into the fortress. There’s an armory approximately 100 meters from here.”

The Scot nodded and then spoke into his own subvocal. “One, this is four. The security control room has been taken. Six is retrieving data and will finish in twenty seconds. Ready to advance on your mark.”

Just then a loud klaxon of an alarm reverberated throughout the complex. A call to arms was announced over the loudspeakers to repel intruders.

McCulloch looked about the room as Vree called to him over the subvocal.

“Four, suggested course of action.”

The Scot chose not to reply immediately and instead joined Sh'avelith as she reviewed a series of surveillance footage and sensor readings.

“A repelling party of approximately 15 Klingon warriors is about a minute out.” She noted. McCulloch noted as he studied the display there was a secondary passage near

Will nodded and then responded to Vree on the subvocal. “I recommend seizing the armory and utilizing it as a foothold to draw in the first wave of attackers. There appears to be a secondary tunnel near the armory that could be used to launch a continued attack further into the stronghold.”

There was a momentary pause before Vree responded. “Proceed Four.”

Thompson, Sh'avelith, McCulloch and Charatetet formed a column with the Canoran on point, readied their weapons and stepped into the passageway that led to the armory. Vree and her group followed in support.

A pair of Klingons were already rushing to intercept Phoenix Team but Sh'avelith dropped the two with successive bursts of rifle fire. The four rushed towards the armory. As they passed a doorway on the right, Thompson halted and kicked the door open. McCulloch instinctively tossed a grenade into the room and continued to move, knowing Vree and her group would clean up the mess. Sh'avelith and Charatetet repeated the action as they cleared a second room on the left.

“Two, Three and Nine, hold the Armory.” Vree commanded over the subvocal. “Eight, advance one hundred meters past the Armory and draw in any repelling parties back to the armory. “Seven, hold in reserve near the security control room if we need to withdraw. The rest of the team take the secondary passageway. Four on point, Six cover the rear.”

McCulloch stumbled slightly and cursed as the team shifted formation. Now on point, the Scot raised his rifle, activated the infrared to assist him as he navigated through the dimly lit tunnel and silently advanced as the passageway slowly climbed up to the next level.

As the detachment approached a curve in the tunnel, Will swore he heard the whine of a weapon powering up. He signaled for the team to halt and listened intently. His heart beat rapidly and he occasionally fought back the urge to cough...he estimated the last time he had been this physically active was a decade before during a privately contracted operation against a Ferengi child trafficker.

Suddenly Vree advanced and took up a position next to him.

“What do you see Four?” She asked. There was a hint of curiosity in her voice.

McCulloch struggled to remember where he had heard that “whine” noise previously. Was it a weapons demonstration? A witness account he reviewed at Inverness? And what the heck did Vree say to Victoria that made her change her mind and commit to a combat medical team?

The Scot shrugged off the distraction. His eyes widened as he suddenly remembered where he had heard that unique sound before. He instinctively grabbed Vree by the straps of her pack and pulled her back towards him as the heavy disruptor opened fire, spraying the tunnel with fire. Thompson dove to the ground, while Sh'avelith retreated back several meters for cover.

“Options?” Vree pressed.

McCulloch looked at Thompson, Vree and Sh'avelith and then glanced back up at the tunnel. The group was literally pinned down and likely had to retreat unless an acceptable solution was presented. Finally, the Scot looked back at Thompson and spoke through the subvocal..

“Tell me you have something in your bag of tricks in the form of a micro drone that can take that nest out.”

The holographic version of Thompson smiled as he reached into a pouch, withdrew a device about three inches across and gently tossed it into the air. The drone hovered above him momentarily as he keyed in a series of commands through a display on his forearm. Suddenly, it darted up the passageway and out of sight. Seconds later, the firing stopped and the drone returned to Thompson.

“I really need to get my hands on some of those wonderful toys.” McCulloch complained over the subvocal as the team reformed its positions and continued onward.

When the team reached the disruptor nest, they halted momentarily as Sh'avelith scanned ahead. The Scot bent over and briefly struggled to catch his breath. Vree started to ask if he was alright but the Scot held up his hand and gestured he was fine.

“There’s a Y juncture fifty meters ahead.” Sh'avelith announced over the subvocal.

“Of course there is.” McCulloch muttered to himself before turning to the Andorian. “What do you see?”

“I’d recommend taking the left passageway. The other appears to lead back down to a great hall a level below us.”

Suggestions?” Vree asked McCulloch once again. He smirked slightly. “Position Thompson’s attack drone in the passageway we’re not moving through. We continue to advance up the other tunnel.”

“Move.” Vree ordered as the team advanced further into the Klingon stronghold.

Before they were half way up the hallway, sounds of transporter beams appeared in front of them as a squad of Klingons appeared. With a Klingon roar, they opened fire at Phoenix Team.

"Fall back," Vree ordered as she and Phoenix Team hugged the walls and returned fire. "They know we're here."

McCulloch had watched in horror as the team members who had held the armory were driven back and up into the Y juncture. Behind them more transporter beams appeared. Another squad began opening fire from behind. They were pinned.

"Five, get those drones back here-" Vree said too late just as Thompson was struck by disruptor fire and collapsed to the floor. Jahkar focused his fire at the Klingons in the rear, but without much cover, they took him down quickly. Seeing no escape, Vree ordered all of them to activate their personal cloaks and at the same time releasing two nanoprobes to hunt the Klingons to distract them so they could slip away, somehow.

Avoiding disruptor fire, the surviving members of Phoenix Team moved back down the way they came while the Klingons fired at the nanoprobes. Once they were back at the Y junction, Will released two nanoprobes down the hallway to keep the Klingons distracted.

"They've pinpointed our location. Won't take long before reinforcements blanket the area," Vree said. "Any other options other than a full retreat?" she asked, no one in particular. But obviously, there was only one real live person to answer.

McCulloch started to answer Vree but stopped speaking when he felt a sharp, burning thud in his hind quarter. He yelped in pain as he realized he had been shot in the arse from a stray disruptor blast. He dropped his rifle, cursed repeatedly and hobbled in a circle as disruptor fire advanced around him. As a new batch of Klingon warriors raced towards him, he drew his dirk knife from the sheath strapped to his upper left arm and flung it towards the closest warrior. The blade sunk into the target’s forehead.

Nevertheless, a horde of Klingons continued to rush towards him. In response, Will drew his pistol and started firing at point blank range. Although he managed to take out three additional targets, the Klingons easily overwhelmed him, brought him to the ground and started to beat him. Seconds later, everything stopped.

McCulloch opened his eyes and saw the program had ended. Commander Vree stood over him, extended her hand and pulled him to his feet. The Scot stepped away from his commander and tried to walk off the pain that was shooting from his backside down his leg.

“You had that Klingon shoot me in the arse on purpose!” McCulloch quipped as he continued to walk around the holodeck. After a moment of reflection, he smiled at his commander. “If you did I certainly deserved it.”

Commander Mayla Vree & Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.07

"I had nothing to do with it," she said with a straight face. "But that would have been the least of your worries. Computer, the Klingon mess hall."

It was the only large room in the complex where they wouldn't feel so closed in. The high ceilings with nearly two dozen Klingons in various activities were frozen all around them. In the center was a long wide table with a bench running down the length of each side. Will sat down painfully. It was going to bruise.

"I'm a little out of shape," Will said. Now that he was sitting down, a few muscles started to ache as his adrenaline began to subside. The 10-kilometer run, the rappelling, and the assault lasted more than three hours. His stamina and endurance weren’t what they used to be.

"You can rest now," Mayla said, taking up a stance beside him and slinging her TR390. She didn't even look like she worked up a sweat. "We're done for today."

"Well that was a cluster," he commented.

Mayla nodded. "Goes to show a brute force approach doesn't always work, especially with these odds. We knew how many enemy numbers were going to be in there, but we still went in for a straight assault."

"Long ago, we ate odds like that for breakfast." The Scot murmured.

"Perhaps, but the galaxy is more brutal now than it was before." She watched him check the rest of his body for any additional injuries before she continued. "There were a few items of note. The TR390 rifle rounds aren't reliably armor piercing. Although we've used them in the field against Klingon armor, it doesn't guarantee penetration. When you shoot at a Klingon with it, be sure you hit somewhere that will penetrate, like gaps in their armor. Better to wound them in the arm or leg than to have the round just bounce off their armor." She brought her rifle up and fired it at a Klingon several meters away. The round ricochet away from the body armor with a thunk. She fired another round and it struck the Klingon in the gap between his arm and body armor. "I've had a lot of experience killing Klingons."

Will nodded at the demonstration. But he knew she had more to say, if she was anything like her father.

"Next, your use of EM grenades run the risk of taking out your own equipment, especially in close quarters if any of the walls reflect that pulse to extend the range of the pulse. There were several times you would have taken out your own comms and weapons, leaving you only with your melee weapon to defend yourself. Klingon bat'leths don't need computerization to still kill you." She took one of the grenades off his shoulder harness and set it off.

Instantly his readout from his rifle in his eyes went out when the rifle sparked. His subvocal went out with a loud static discharge. Both of their phasers sparked and popped. The Sky Eyes nanoprobes that were still hovering around them suddenly dropped to the ground. And the lights went out in the mess hall. Both were suddenly plunged into darkness and next thing he knew there was a blade at his throat.

"I don't want you to overly rely on technology to get you through a mission. Over reliance on tech dulls the skills and abilities," she said. "Technology is supposed to enhance your abilities, not take the place of them. Computer, lights.'

The lights came back on and Mayla was holding the blunt side of her blood-stained katana at his throat. "If we have the tech, we can use it. Just remember every time you do, that's one less practice you have in not using it in the real world." She pulled away and wiped her blooded blade on a Klingon seated close by.

"I get your point," Will grumbled, feeling his neck where the blade touched him. For a moment, he really thought she was going to kill him. His fingers came away wet with Klingon blood. He took a deep cleansing breath to continue slowing down the adrenaline in his system. He worked his shoulder and back, which both had suddenly seized up into stiffness.

She studied him as if he was becoming uncomfortable. "I think you might need additional physical training to get you back to peak physical condition. Jahkar has many PT sims we use. Thompson has been using them too on a daily basis ever since he returned to field duty."

Will sighed to himself. That's the danger of a desk job; going soft. "I'll look into it."

"I would like to see you go through this sim at least once a day over the next few weeks on top of PT training. But each time with one less piece of technology or weapon after each successful mission." She waved at their surroundings. "With 16:1 odds, a stealth takedown is the best way to prevent an all-out battle of all of them against us. Once they pinpoint your location, they can simply beam into your position and overrun you with sheer numbers. It's worse if they catch you in an enclosed area like they did today."

The Scot looked around and took count how many times he used a stun grenade, a visual probe, or even his TR390. Then he realized there was Klingon blood on the blades of her katanas and her body armor. Using a sword against an armored Klingon armed with a bat'leth was foolhardy, but yet there was Klingon blood on her. He didn't see it himself, but did she take down the enemy with just her swords in hand to hand combat?

"How many times have you done this sim?" He asked, suspiciously eyeing her that she had an advantage of being familiar with the sim already.

"The first time..." she paused for a moment before deciding to tell him since the rest of the team already knew. "The first time wasn't a sim. I lived this."

Will calmed his breathing and looked up at her. "You mean this was a real place? On Qo'noS?"

"It was. The stronghold was real, the setting was real, the Klingon splinter group was real, the mission was real." Mayla put one foot up on the bench and leaned an elbow on her knee. "It was the last mission I led before transferring to Phoenix Team. This cell was part of Krang's rebellion on this past mission."

He looked around with new eyes and a new perspective. "How large was your team?"

"Six of us. One was on overwatch outside across the chasm to secure and cover our escape in case we needed to retreat. Five of us entered the stronghold and accomplished the mission."

"Obviously you didn't do it the way we just did it." He now looked around at all the Klingons around them and thinking about the real life 20:1 odds against her and her team.

"We did go through the garbage door in stealth, cleared each room including the cell leader's suite, which was our primary goal. We left the mess hall for last because at the time, it had the most concentration of enemy. This is where we made our stance because of the wide-open space. It gave us maneuvering room and not allowed ourselves to be boxed in." She took a deep breath and decided to create a bridge. "Would you like to watch it?"

He suddenly looked up at her with his eyes wide with shock. "You have a visual log?"

She just waved her hand in a dismissal gesture. "That's how we were able to generate such a high-resolution simulation here." She looked around before finding a specific Klingon and dragged him to the bench like a ragged doll. Her show of strength surprised him as it didn't seem to take any effort at all. She pulled aside his head and showed a tattoo on the side of his neck, and then strange tattoos on his eyelids. This type of detail was never in standard holodeck programs as it always took a pool of character templates to build from. "We also made a high res scan of the entire complex before we left. We needed a record of every Klingon here to determine who they were and backtrack how they were recruited. So every time you run the program, it will be different because the AI for each Klingon is based on our live surveillance and visual logs recorded during the mission. Which is classified, by the way."

Will's hands became cold and clammy with nervousness. He was almost afraid to want to watch because he didn't want to find out he might not be able to live up to the expectation she might have of him. But if he did watch it, he would know exactly where he stood in terms of skills and abilities. And that scared him even more.

"It's alright if you don't want to. I was just asking." Mayla said without any judgement in her voice.

McCulloch nodded in understanding and then spoke. “Show it to me. I need to see it so I know what my weaknesses are and what I need to do to meet your expectations.”

"Just this one time," she said, studying the Scot for a moment before activating the visual log. McCulloch leaned forward on his arms and studied the assault as it replayed before him from her team's beam down point. To her pleasant surprise he asked several probing questions about chosen tactics and analysis to get a better understanding of what had transpired. More than once he also requested Vree stop the recording, rewind it up and play it again. He occasionally pulled out a PADD and scribbled a few notes onto it before returning it to his pouch. When the transmission ended, the Scot remained silent for several moments as he reflected upon what he saw. Finally, he spoke.

"That's some teamwork." He said. He'd never seen such coordination in a team before. It was as if they were a hive mind. “I have some work to do.” He announced softly.

“I don't expect anyone to be as efficient as we were. Our team was...unique in our coordination.” She explained with no explanation at all.

Will nodded before continuing. “So, two questions.”

“Go ahead.” Vree answered with a hint of encouragement.

“Am I allowed to supplement my standard issued equipment with some personal weapons?”

“Like the dirk you sunk into that Klingon’s head during the simulation?”

“Yes. I have another toy I’ve been training with since my time with Kane’s merc team. It’s a collapsible baton that could fit on my belting. I’d like to think I’ve become somewhat adept with it.”

"Of course." She pulled out something from her belt the size of a small cup. Pressing a button on it, it instantly expanded into a six-foot-long staff. She twirled it once to show how evenly balanced it was. "Min fighting stick, as my father called it. Handy in a pinch. Same as your baton." She pressed the button in combination with another and the staff collapsed back in on itself into the small size. “You had another question?” Vree aske“I have to perform this simulation once a day until further orders are received from you?” He inquired.

“Absolutely.” Vree insisted.

“I’d like to run through it twice a day.” The Scot countered.

Vree looked at him critically. “What?”

Will repeated his request. “I’d like your permission to run through this sim twice a day starting tomorrow.”

"You can run it as many times as you want, as long as it doesn't interfere with our daily sim or your PT training, or whatever ship duties Lazarus decides to assign to us." She gave him a frown. "Don't run yourself ragged. You don't want to be tired when we're called upon on a mission."

Will nodded and mulled over Vree’s comments. He was determined to work twice as hard to get up to speed and earn her trust. “I’ll plan accordingly but I will feel comfortable if I at least have an opportunity to take advantage of the extra practice.”

“Very well.” Vree replied as she started to shut down the simulation. As he watched her, McCulloch debated silently whether to ask the commander about her conversation with Victoria at the funeral.

“Question, Lieutenant Commander?” Vree unexpectedly asked the Scot as she glanced over towards him.

“No ...no, sir.” McCulloch responded with a tone of hesitation. He decided it was perhaps not in his best interest to pry into Vree and Victoria’s discussion during the funeral service. McCulloch stood up and winced as a sharp pain shot from his hindquarter down his leg. He slung his rifle and stepped back to wait for Vree to finish shutting down the simulation so they could exit the area.

"Feel free to train with any team member, including myself. Any help we can give to each other is almost self-serving, because you might save our lives someday." She tapped a few keys on her padd, and the holodeck grid lines appeared, and their weapons disappeared. "Remember, no more drinking. Focus on getting yourself in shape so you don't get any of us or yourself killed on your first mission out. Dismissed."

Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.09

Sh’avelith had commandeered a workspace in the medical bay aboard *Resurrection*. The EMH had been somewhat vocal about having to share her space with another person, but recognized Tiri was the only crew member with any significant medical training beside a couple of nurses.

The Andorian was going over files from the brief stay Tiken had spent aboard the ship and she was beginning to wonder how the child was doing.

She decided to reach out to the *USS Bethesda* to see if she could touch base with one of the crew. She’d managed to talk some with a couple of the medical staff who would be monitoring the child so she figured why not send a transmission.

The Andorian sent a message to Dr. Amare Abimbola, one of the doctor’s she’d met, and was perplexed a short time later when there was no response. Tiri frowned and tried again, hailing the *Bethesda* directly this time.

Still...nothing.

She then opened a channel to Commander Vree, “Phoenix 6 to Phoenix 1.”

“One here, ensign,” Vree responded.

“I’ve been trying to contact the *Bethesda*, but I get no reply,” she reported. “I just thought I’d check on Tiken. It’s just odd...I thought I’d let you know.”

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