Episode 3.3.10: Passing of the Baton

## S3, E3, Act 1: At the Briefing (extended edition)

Head of Carnora Special Forces Hworyal Andruvar

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Stardate 2102.11

The four agents continued to chat.  Rygaran mentioned that he thought he saw Tarika at the funeral, and Reepchip confirmed it.  Hworyal, however, was unsurprised--Carnora Special Forces had been keeping close tabs on all major smugglers and organizations, and they were aware that Captain Tarika was more than she seemed.  Ryramorl and Reepchip looked at each other, wondering if they should reveal her true identity, but Hworyal beat them to it, saying once he and Rygaran were on Carnor, Rygaran would be allowed to view the information the Special Forces had on Tarika.

Rygaran was hailed on his communicator, and he apologized.  [My ship is asking when I’ll be ready to leave,] he signed.

[Be well,] said Hworyal.  The three Olverns embraced warmly and rubbed faces.  Rygaran headed off to the spaceport.

As Rygaran headed through the spaceport, he once again noticed Tarika.  When she looked his way, he calmly placed an index finger on his temple, and held his muzzle shut with the other fingers and his thumb--a gesture amongst his people that meant, “I know something about you, but I shall remain silent.”  As she’d feared he had, in fact, seen her at the funeral.  And he’d been sitting with the two Carnora she’d taken back to Starbase 36.

After Rygaran left, Reepchip asked about how his own family was doing, and Hworyal signed sadly:  [They’ve lost their rig.  There was a flood eruption, and they couldn’t get their mining rig out of the way in time, so they had to abandon it.  No deaths or injuries, but the rig was a total loss.]

Reepchip chittered.  [It’s Agavan.  At least they all escaped.]  The volcanism of the innermost moon meant that minerals were constantly being brought to the surface, and so the moon was extensively mined, but the rigs had to be mobile so they could move from threatening eruptions.   But some eruptions were simply too big to flee, and the mining rigs were simply abandoned to the lava flows.  More than once, a destroyed rig was itself mined after the lava had cooled.

[Ay, and the rest of the Clan is helping them out.]  Hworyal then asked them how they’d been doing while out on assignment.  Reepchip signed that, even though he’d been basically a tagalong, he was now fully a part of the team.  He “whispered” by making the smallest gestures possible.  [I work with a half-Klingon/half Romulan.  I think he finds me annoying to spar with,] his fingers twitched.

Hworyal’s fingers twitched back.  [I wonder why.  Trying to spar with one of you is like trying to swat an insect.]  The three of them laughed.

Reepchip’s communicator activated.  “*Resurrection* to Phoenix 8.  Are you guys ready to come aboard?”

“Phoenix 8 to *Resurrection*, yes, we’re ready.  Would you beam us straight to our quarters?  The sooner I get out of this dress uniform the better.”

The transporter tech chuckled.  “Of course.”

Reepchip turned to Ryramorl.  “We have to return to the Resurrection.”

Ryramorl nodded and sighed.  [We are being summoned.  Farewell.]

[I understand.  Farewell.]  Hworyal and Ryramorl embraced each other, and rubbed faces.

Reepchip said, “Two to beam up.”  As the transporter beam enveloped them, he suddenly realized Ryramorl and Hworyal were still embraced--and the when the technicians realized they were beaming up three signals, they only had time to disentangle the two Olverns’ signals before they materialized in the Carnoras’ quarters.

Hworyal blinked and looked around as he found himself in the Carnora’s quarters, letting out a stream of confused profanity.  Ryramorl groaned as he realized what had happened.  He began to explain to Hworyal where he was and how he’d gotten there.  Hworyal grunted.  “I need to get back to Vulcan and rejoin the others,” he growled.  “My Sub-Chief can be a bit of a hothead, and if I’m missing…”

Lt. Commander Darva McGuire was at her station on the bridge when the transporter room informed her of the security breach involving an unexpected Carnora picked up during the transport of Reepchip and Ryramorl.

McGuire sighed and keyed the communicator, “Where are all three Carnora?”

“Directly transported to Ryramorl and Reepchip’s quarters,” Ensign Toth replied.

“This is an intelligence vessel, ensign. Everyone beams directly in and out of the transporter bay, unless otherwise ordered by a superior officer,” McGuire scolded. “Lock onto the third Carnora and transport them back to Vulcan.”

“Yes sir,” Toth responded, just before locking onto Hworyal and beaming him back to the surface.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Ajax*, Admiral Clancy’s Flagship, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.11

Lazarus emerged from the conference room aboard the *Ajax* where he and MacLeod had been meeting with Clancy and her staff for the past several hours. The captain tapped his comm-badge and opened a channel, “Lazarus to Vree,” he said.

“Vree here,” the Trill replied.

“I need you and your team over here on the Ajax within the hour,” he said firmly. “Report to the conference room when you arrive.”

Commander Mayla Vree

Crew quarters, *USS Resurrection*

Vulcan

Stardate 2102.12

Mayla returned to her quarters after the sim with McCulloch and during her sonic shower, she reviewed the sim in her head and everything he had said to her. He seemed sincere in his pursuit to prove himself that he has regretted his past and wanted to move forward. What was the statute of limitations on forgiveness? Does it depend on how significant the transgression was determined by societal, personal, professional, or cultural factors? Is killing innocent civilians ever forgivable? Conspiracy to kill your teammates, or your commanding officer? Or how about a family member or a friend? Or even genocide?

These were questions that have never had a definitive answer throughout history. Even with her lifetimes of experiences, there never seemed to be a solution that was universally satisfactory. Especially in her current line of work, she thought about the hundreds of 'enemies' she's killed in just the past few years, and most of them weren't in self-defense.

She sighed and buried some feelings that had begun to well up from memories of McCulloch. Even from the reports she'd read, he had crossed the point of no return. She had to keep searching for those memories as to why both Ky and Sorvek wanted to give this man a second chance. In Ky's current state of mind, she wondered if his thoughts about McCulloch had changed. She should have asked when she had the chance.

At that moment, Sh'avelith informed her of the lack of response from the ship that had taken Tiken. Before Mayla responded, she quickly performed her own query as to the Bethesda's whereabouts and came up with nothing. Which was suspicious as every ship in Starfleet had always checked in with Starfleet Command to their last location. The fact that Starfleet had nothing reported as the Bethesda's last location, that meant it was either off the grid on purpose or destroyed. Even if it was destroyed, the emergency communication buoy would have sent a brief signal. It was as if the Bethesda really did just disappear.

Mayla performed a few more queries quickly and still turned up empty handed. "I'll inform the Captain. The ship could be running silent. Who knows? I wouldn't worry about it unless we hear something. And to tell you the truth, it's out of our hands, I doubt they'll tell us anything considering what the child was."

"Understood. Six, out."

She stepped out of the shower and put on a clean uniform. All the while trying to come up with some creative method of trying to find the Bethesda's location in the vast Starfleet network of operations.

"Would you like me to help you with that, Mayla?"

She stopped at buttoning the last flap on the tunic sleeve and looked around her quarters for the source of the voice. But she was alone. The voice sounded in her head. It wasn't coming over the subvocal. It felt nearly the same as when Tiken communicated with her through her camouflage nanites. But this felt somehow more personal. It was as if her internal AI was speaking to her.

"Who's that?" She said out loud, scanning the entire room again, and then even outside her door. The companionway was empty.

"My name is Meg."

"Who are you?" Mayla was literally a fingertip away from raising an alarm. Her hand hovered over the computer panel ready to alert security.

"I was Admiral Sorvek's artificial intelligence assistant for Project Blackthorn. Seeing that he has made you steward of the Project and you have all of his knowledge, I was optioned by Admiral Argonne Jasid to make myself available to you."

She accessed the files Sorvek had sent her in the nanoDNA vault stored someplace in the cloud. "Where did you come from?"

"I was originally generated at Blackthorn Base, imbued with advanced AI algorithms from the Linea ship, the *Revenant of Scions*. Admiral Jasid requested for me to offer myself to you on his last visit now that Sorvek is gone, and you are now steward. Once you agree, I will integrate with you and be at your service until you are no longer maintaining that role.

The *Revenant of Scions*, Mayla thought to herself. It was a prototype Linea-Borg hybrid ship with a highly advanced AI sentience as its brain. Sorvek's files included Bravo Squad's report during their infiltration of Linea space about the ship that had unexpectedly achieved sentience. That ship was one of the main reasons the Linea hadn't invaded the Milky Way. And hopefully it won't happen. But just in case, that was the sole purpose of Project Blackthorn; to hopefully give the Milky Way a fighting chance.

"Sorvek has been using you? For how long?"

"Eight years, four months, eighteen days, 23 minutes. Until his death."

There was no mention of any AI assistant in Sorvek's final message to her. "He named you Meg?"

"After his wife, yes. He allowed me access to everything he had about her and I compiled a personality profile to become the template of my persona. You can give me a new name and persona if you wish. I will answer to that name for the duration of your duties as steward."

"What exactly did you do for Sorvek?"

"I was his personal assistant in all matters pertaining Project Blackthorn. One of my responsibilities is to assist with selecting volunteers to be transferred to Blackthorn Base and the Fleet. I select candidates from a pool of requested transfers to Starfleet Intelligence. I then analyze the individual's lifestyle, psychological and character profile, familial history, values, and ideals. Then provide Sorvek with recruits with a psychological profile attuned to the Project's requirements. He will then select the personnel before I set up transfer orders that eventually become obscurely lost in the depths of computer cores of information."

"So you're a recruiter for Blackthorn," Mayla said.

"That is just one of my responsibilities. My primary duty is ghosting the Project."

"Ghosting? What is that?"

"To mask and hide its existence from all knowledge in the galaxy."

Mayla nodded, but still trying to grasp the enormity of what the voice was saying. Was this how Blackthorn Base and its Fleet supporting it remained hidden for so long? This AI had been actively hiding it whenever anyone came looking for it?

"How are you accomplishing this?" Mayla finally had to sit down. The stupendous reach of this AI was astounding; mind boggling at best.

"My advanced AI encrypted camouflage algorithms dynamically eradicates inquiries or references to Project Blackthorn and maintains all covers for all of its personnel and ships."

She hugged herself to try to ward off a chill that went down her spine. She couldn't even calculate or even guess the amount of computing power that function alone required. "Every person? All fifty thousand personnel?"

"Yes." The AI called Meg simply said.

"How...how can you do that?"

"The explanation is complicated. And I will forego a long explanation and provide you with a simplistic one. I am a cloud-based AI. I enlist computer power from various sources throughout the galaxy. I have been doing it for 10 years and have become very adept at hiding myself and Blackthorn from everyone and everything else. I do not leave any traces of my access nor appear anywhere unless I deem it so."

For the first time in a long time, she was dumbfounded. Firstly, she couldn't believe the social skills this AI had. Bravo Squad's Jonathan Tran had long ago dabbled with AI for their base of operations' computer. She was called Sweetie and after a few years of evolution, had to be removed from their ship of operations because she had purposely withheld information that was vital to a Bravo Squad mission. At least that's what her father's logs said. The AI she was already using in her head was an offshoot of Tran's project.

Secondly, the most frightening one, was how far reaching this AI program was. Mayla was more afraid of the answer to her next question than the question itself. "Where are you centrally located?"

"I am not centrally located anywhere. My trillions of gigaquads of components are stored in the cloud, duplicated, backed up in minute pieces spread throughout the galaxy."

Mayla closed her eyes. There are some questions that were best not being asked. "What are your boundary parameters? What's keeping you from...say...taking over the galaxy by giving misleading information to everyone and starting wars?" The thought of Jack Dark's Reckoning came into mind.

"My mandate programming. I am only assigned to Project Blackthorn. Any attempts at interfering with anything outside of the Project will require permission from you, and six other people whom I cannot divulge. I cannot act autonomously in that regard."

"Who came up with that idea?"

"Your father."

Of course, he did, she nodded to herself. She just hoped seven people was enough to h

old on to the reins of this AI. "So, you were actually activated at Blackthorn?"

"Yes, I was running for two years before I was assigned to Sorvek by Admiral Jasid."

Mayla had to think about this. She'd never experienced anything this advanced before. Could Meg be trusted? She shook her head with indecision. She wished Jasid had mentioned something like this to her when she was on the Pui Man. Then a horrifying thought struck her.

"Did you know of the presence of Legion?"

There was no pause when the AI answered the question. "Yes."

"Did you tell Sorvek?"

"No."

Mayla could feel her anger rise several notches. "Legion threatened the Federation and the quadrant and you didn't inform him of it? Why not?"

"It was outside the purview of my programming boundaries."

"So you decided not to inform anyone." Mayla said flatly.

"I put in a request to the admiralty at Blackthorn. It was decided that I would not interfere."

"Not interfere?! Sorvek is dead because of that decision!" Mayla yelled out loud and jumped to her feet. "Legion tapped into all of the subspace relays in the quadrant, which means YOU and the Project may have been compromised."

"I was aware of the tap and took measures to protect the Project."

Mayla sat back down, shaking her head. How could Argonne and Ky have allowed this? A part of her understood the need for this AI to keep a low profile. It's at what cost is what concerned her. Sorvek could have been spared.

"I will have to think about this integration, Meg," she said the name awkwardly. "For now, maintain your current status and continue your duty to mask the Project. I need to discuss this with Admiral Jasid and my father first."

"As you wish. I will be here if you are ever to need me."

Then she was gone. If she could really be 'gone'. Mayla looked around her quarters and left alone and troubled at the revealing of the AI. How different was this from what Jack Dark had just tried to accomplish? She could envision the danger this AI could cause to the galaxy, and it could be decided by the 'admiralty' of Blackthorn. She closed out Sorvek's files for now to ponder the enormity of it all.

Before long, Lazarus called for her to assemble the team to beam over to the *Ajax* for conference. The fact that the meeting was happening on Admiral Clancy's flagship and not on the *Resurrection* gave her suspicion that the future of Shadow Operations was going to be revealed.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.12

Will left the holodeck and worked his way back to his quarters. Vree had worked the Scot over hard. His muscles were starting to ache, and he knew within a few hours his body would be throbbing in pain.

McCulloch slowly hobbled down the corridor and passed various ensigns and lieutenants who eyed him suspiciously or gazed upon him like some oddity. More than a few simply turned their backs on him. The Scot knew word about his reputation was quickly spreading throughout the ship.

Eventually, McCulloch reached his quarters. He stumbled inside and immediately went to his bedroom. He contemplated getting out of his combat gear but instead he simply fell face first into his bed. In less than a minute he was fast asleep.

His peaceful slumber, however, was interrupted when his door chime rang repeatedly. At first, the Scot tried to ignore it but as the chirps repeated one after another in quick succession, the Scot looked up from his bed and barked “Enter!”

As Will sat up in his bed, a female Trill ensign entered his quarters. She was the same officer who had previously visited and given him a hard time.

“Is the traitor sleeping well?” She inquired without masking her contempt for the Scot.

“Why don’t you address me as sir, I’m a damn Lieutenant Commander.” He retorted, noting the muscles on his arms were already stiffening.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She replied. “Is the traitor sleeping well...sir?”

Surprisingly, McCulloch smirked at the open display of disrespect. He was too tired and sore to deal with the ensign. As a result, he cut to the chase. “What do you want, ensign?”

The Trill handed the Scot a PADD and studied the Scot momentarily. “Commander Vree is ordering you to report to the transporter room in twenty minutes. I suggest you hurry up and change into your uniform...sir.”

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.12

When Ensign Jala Thrice turned to walk away from McCullouch, she was shocked to see a large shape standing in the doorway behind her. It was Colonel Jahkar, the big Klingon/Romulan hybrid from the Shadow Ops team

The young Trill nearly ran right into him as she attempted to make her departure, but stopped and took a step back. “Sorry, colonel, I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” Jahkar muttered.

The young woman attempted to squeeze past Jahkar, but the marine stood firm, “I haven’t dismissed you, ensign.”

The Trill ensign stepped back again and looked annoyed, “With all due respect, colonel, you’re a Federation Marine...I don’t….”

“Apparently you don’t remember that Starfleet and the Marine Corps have mutual recognition of rank,” he said firmly. “By Starfleet comparison, I’m the equivalent of a commander. So, you’d better show me the respect I deserve. Understood?”

The ensign suddenly snapped to attention, “Yes sir.”

“Commander McCulloch here,” he said. “I heard you speaking to him with disrespect. His rank may be provisional, but you will give him the proper respect. Do you understand?”

Thrice frowned, “Colonel, again, with all due respect, he’s a…”

“I didn’t ask for your assessment, ensign,” Jahkar growled. “I don’t care what your personal feelings about the man are, he holds the provisional rank of lieutenant commander and he’s a member of the Shadow Ops team aboard this ship. You will speak to him with respect, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” the Trill said, looking straight ahead.

“I’ll be noting this transgression in a report to the captain and Commander Vree,” Jahkar said. He then stepped aside. “Dismissed.”

Thrice wasted no time in heading out the door and disappearing into the corridor outside. Jahkar then turned to look at McCulloch and grinned, “Don’t let them walk all over you, Will. Sometimes you’ve got to snap them back by the scruff of their necks.”

Lt. Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.12

Daryl walked out of sickbay. He had himself checked, but there was no sign his brain was playing tricks on him, thorough checks had pointed that out. He exhaled deep, as the fact he had seen Gregory Durham on Vulcan made him restless and uneasy. He decided to have a little workout in the holodeck. As he walked to his quarters, he just saw Jahkar standing in the door opening of McCulloch's room. As he stepped aside, Ensign Thrice walked out of the room in a hurry and with a stale face. Thompson stepped up besides Jahkar.

"Already fooling around with the lovely Ensign, Will?" Thompson said, grinning. "And caught in the act by Jahkar? " He continued, smirking…

Ensign Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.12

Tiri passed Thrice in the corridor on her way to the transporter bay and the young Trill nearly ran into her, a look of disgust and anger on her face.

“You OK?” the Andorian asked, but Thrice just kept on walking past her, headed back to her duty station.

Tiri shrugged and continued on, coming upon the scene in the corridor outside McCulloch’s quarters where she overheard Thompson.

As she came to stand beside Daryl, she managed a smirk, “More than likely the commander was on the receiving end of Thrice’s attitude. She just about mowed me down a second ago.”

Daryl looked to Tiri, then the others, “Attitude?”

“Excuse my language, but I’ve observed that she’s a royal bitch most of the time,” Sh’avelith stated. “And, I heard her trash talking McCulloch in the mess hall shortly after he came aboard. Something about him being a traitor or something.”

Tiri didn’t know about past events in Shadow Ops, so her comments were completely un-opinionated. She looked around to the other members of the team and smiled, “So, what do you think? Clancy pulling the plug on us?”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.12

The Scot was unsure of how to answer Tiri’s question about Clancy so he let the others respond. After a moment of discussion, everyone turned their attention back towards McCulloch.

“What is it with you and women?” Thompson quipped as he stood next to Jahkar. “Seriously, do you give off some sort of pheromone that sends the opposite sex into an angry tizzy?”

“What?” Jahkar asked, somewhat confused.

“Don’t ask just yet.” Thompson countered. “We’ll need a few spare hours just to bring you up to speed on McCulloch’s adventures since his arrival on the Resurrection.”

The marine colonel studied McCulloch in silence for a moment. Afterwards, he reiterated ““Don’t let them walk all over you, Will.”

The Scot nodded in silence. However, before McCulloch could speak, Beckett stumbled into the room. He was hung over and there was a large circular bruise on his neck.

“Is that a hickey?” McCulloch asked, as Thompson turned away and started to shake as he laughed silently.

“What the hell did I miss?” Tiri demanded.

“Quiet ensign.” McCulloch instinctively announced.

“See? That is how it is done.” Jahkar observed with an encouraging tone.

“I’m not sure I am comfortable being Lieutenant Commander McCulloch’s refresher course.” Tiri protested.

“Did we give Ensign Sh’avelith permission to speak?” Thompson inquired, still grinning about Beckett’s appearance.

“No.” Jahkar replied, trying his best to contain a smile before turning his attention towards Beckett. “Lieutenant, care to explain the mark on your neck?”

Beckett stammered for a few moments as he struggled to answer the colonel’s demands.

Eventually Thompson interjected. “ Cody got up close and personal with McCulloch’s former executive assistant.”

Tiri rolled her eyes in disappointment. McCulloch and Thompson tried desperately not to laugh. But Jahkar...Jahkar did not appear amused. He stepped closer to the New Zealander.

“Would this be Sergeant Major Robert Pickering’s younger sister?” He demanded.

“Yes, yes it was.” Beckett answered softly. His head throbbed in pain as he tried desperately to recall the events after the funeral service. Unfortunately, most of the afternoon was a drunken haze.

“I seem to recall his tongue was halfway down her throat.” McCulloch announced.

Thompson snorted as he couldn’t keep his laugh silent.

“Ewww.” Tiri responded.

Jahkar glared at Cody in silence for a moment before speaking. “Sarah Pickering was like a little sister to the marines of Ops Force Alpha. Are you telling me lieutenant that you had relations with my little sister?”

“You put it that way it’s kind of gross.” Thompson stated matter-of-factly. McCulloch grunted in agreement.

Beckett desperately tried to avoid eye contact with the marine colonel as he closed within inches of his face and softly growled at the lieutenant. Eventually, Jahkar started to laugh before he clapped Beckett on the shoulder. “You poor man, she will eat you alive.”

Beckett didn’t know what to answer, but he was relieved the Marine had just been playing with him.

“Someone misbehaved while on Vulcan ...with one of my former employees.” The Scot declared with concern.

“Shouldn’t we be discussing you?” Beckett finally retorted as he glared at the Scot. “I mean between Ensign Thrice, Commander Smith and Sarah Pickering you have your own issues we should be addressing. You literally were throat punched by your ex-wife on Vulcan.”

“Quiet Lieutenant.” McCulloch answered.

“See, there you go, you are asserting authority over the junior officers. Well done.” Jahkar complimented.

“Thank you, Colonel.” The Scot answered.

“You managed to anger three women in under twenty-four hours?” Jahkar suddenly demanded as he turned his attention towards McCulloch.

“Technically only two. The other one was...well, she’s a hot mess who may have violated Lieutenant Beckett as part of an effort to make me jealous.” Will answered calmly.

Beckett grimaced and nodded.

“Who are you?” Tiri demanded as she looked at McCulloch with concern.

“A traitor.” McCulloch answered.

“Yes, we really need to discuss that sooner rather than later.” the Andorian replied.

The Scot nodded. “How much time do you have?”

“Not now.” Jahkar announced. “We need to get to the transporter room.”

“I still think you are a valuable member to the team” Thompson grinned as he addressed Will. “It’s been a while since we had such a great entertainer in the team !”

McCulloch smirked. “You’re only saying that because I’m the best-looking member of the team.”

“I would disagree.” Jahkar interjected.

“Of course, you would.” McCulloch replied. “But you haven’t seen me in a kilt yet. It’s a proven fact a man in a kilt is ten times more handsome than a marine.”

“He’s right.” Beckett quickly agreed before Jahkar gestured for the team to move out.

As they made their way to the transporter room, Thompson handed Beckett a small hypospray. “Here, take this. It makes you feel better and it’s not immediately seen you have a hangover. You might take something for that breath though, it smells as if something died inside of you” Beckett glared at Thompson, who chuckled, but still he accepted thankfully the hypo. “

By time they arrived at the transporter room, he felt slightly better.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.13

Ryramorl heard Mayla’s summoning, and he and Reepchip headed for the transporter room.  As they headed down the hallway, Reepchip’s sharp ears heard someone storming towards them, and fell behind Ryramorl for protection.  Ryramorl saw a young Trill come down the hallway, glaring at something behind here.  She turned back just in time to run smack into over 300 pounds of immovable Olvern.  She stumbled backwards and looked up at Ryramorl’s unreadable face.  “State your name, Ensign!” ordered Ryramorl.  The Ensign snapped to attention. “Sir!  Ensign Jala Thrice, Sir!”

“Ensign Thrice, I suggest in the future you watch where you are going instead of snarling at where you have been.  Dismissed.”

The Trill left as quickly as she could without fleeing, as Ryramorl and Reepchip continued to the transporter room.  As he entered the room, he saw one technician looking very guilty.  Ryramorl simply locked eyes with him a moment before turning to his teammates.  He wouldn’t reveal what that was all about, but he would review security footage of his quarters to make sure the tech received a proper translation of Hworyal’s description of whoever had beamed him aboard.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.14

The Shadow Ops team was ushered into the conference room aboard the *USS Ajax*, where they found MacLeod, Lazarus and Clancy awaiting them. There was a fourth individual there was a Rigelian male, who appeared to be dressed in civilian clothing.

Once they were seated, it was MacLeod who began the discussion. He appeared to be rather upbeat, which set a positive vibe for the team.

“We called you all here because we wanted to inform you all of the status of Shadow Operations in the aftermath of the Legion missions, and the death of Admiral Sorvek,” MacLeod said. “I’ve been informed by Admiral Clancy the unit will continue with a similar mission, but under new oversight.”

Clancy, an older human woman, looked over the group before she spoke, “The Federation and Starfleet are indebted to Shadow Operations for it’s unmasking of the plot by Jack Dark to undermine this government and to create chaos across the quadrant. For that reason, we have decided to keep the organization activated.

“Shadow Operations will remain a small, rapid deployment unit. There are no immediate plans to expand its size,” Clancy continued. “However, the unit will no longer fall under the immediate oversight of Starfleet Intelligence, nor will it be answering directly to Starfleet Command.”

Clancy looked to the Rigelian, who turned toward the team and continued the briefing. As he prepared to speak, the team noticed he was a hologram, projected there in one of the chairs to make it appear he was with them during the meeting.

“I am Commissioner Cuxtal, chairperson of the Federation Security Council,” the Rigelian said. “It has been decided that Shadow Operations will fall under oversight of the Security Council. Missions will be authorized by the council and ordered by the president.”

Commander Vree looked surprised, as did the others in the unit, “Are we still a Starfleet crew?”

Clancy nodded, “The ship, the crew…all Starfleet. But serving directly under the command of the Federation President and the Security Council. When there’s a situation that warrants deployment of the Shadow Operations team, the council will authorize the mission and the president will give the order.”

“I will be assuming direct command of Shadow Operations, essentially filling Sorvek’s position,” MacLeod said. “Orders from the president and Security Council will come through me. Captain Lazarus will remain in command of *Resurrection*.”

“What about the *Fearless*?” Thompson asked.

MacLeod shifted slightly in his chair, signaling some anxiety on his part. “The *Fearless* is undergoing refit right now at Beta Antares. She’s being outfitted for exploratory service.”

“Are they putting her out to pasture?” Sh’avelith asked.

Clancy smiled, “Different pastures, so to speak. She’ll be given a new captain and crew for a deep space exploration mission in approximately six months. We want Shadow Operations to have the newest, best technology available, so a new command ship will be put into service.”

“With all due respect, admiral,” MacLeod bristled. “Fearless is the best damn ship there is.”

Clancy restrained a laugh, “Duly noted, Admiral MacLeod. I promise you will not be given a poor replacement.

“A new captain will be named to command the replacement for *Fearless*,” Clancy continued. “The replacement ship will serve much as *Fearless* did – for gathering intelligence, performing recon and providing backup to *Resurrection*. *Resurrection*, with her coaxial drive, will be a rapid deployment ship with the primary mission of carrying Phoenix Squad into hot zones.”

MacLeod waited for the information to settle amongst those in the room, then proceeded to the next topic.

“Ops Base One will be deactivated. Starfleet has other uses for the facility,” MacLeod continued. “We are instead being given a decommissioned defense station in orbit of Saturn. It was known as Outpost S-7 when it was built and put into service during the Dominion War. Eventually, years after the war, it was mothballed. It will now be reactivated and recommissioned as Outpost Umbra Prime. It’ll serve as the base of operations for Shadow Ops with facilities onboard for training, planning, housing and research and development.”

“Additionally,” Admiral Clancy added. “Admiral MacLeod has requested that the engineering group known as the Madcaps will be assigned to Umbra Prime as Shadow Ops to head up R&D.”

MacLeod took a deep breath and then smiled as he gauged reactions from the team, “There will be a couple of changes in the ranks. Commander Raillius has accepted transfer to Starfleet Intelligence. She’ll be working for Commodore Oh. You’ve all met Lt. Commander McCulloch, he will be taking Raillius’ place. Commander Vree, you can decide how you’ll restructure command of the unit with Raillius’ departure.

“I’d also like to announce a couple of promotions,” MacLeod continued. “Ensign Sh’avelith. After great consideration of your actions both on Andoria and the mission into the Klingon Empire, I’ve decided to restore you to the rank of lieutenant junior grade. Congratulations.”

He then turned to Daryl Thompson, “Lieutenant, you have also proven yourself to be invaluable on the past two missions. You’ve held that rank for too long, considering where you were and what happened to you for all those years. I’m promoting you to the rank of lieutenant commander, effective immediately. You’ve earned it. Congratulations!”

MacLeod then looked around at the team, “Questions?”

Commander Mayla Vree

Conference Room

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.15

"So we are no longer a covert operations team?" Mayla asked.

"Your mission statement will remain the same." Clancy said flatly.

"But Admiral," Mayla looked at Clancy square in the eye. "Government oversight will take away their plausible deniability of what a covert operations team does."

MacLeod looked at the Trill. "What are you getting at, Commander?"

"What she's saying is are they going to hang us out to dry when the tough gets going in the political climate," Lazarus said, clearly thinking the same thing.

Mayla nodded with agreement. "We do the work where no government agency, Security Council or not, should ever know the details of our missions. They only need to know that a job was done in the service of the Federation." She sounded like an Academy instructor explaining the ethics of what being a Starfleet officer should carry with them. She glared at Cuxtal. "I am uncomfortable with a non-Starfleet body of governance directly overseeing a covert operations division in any political climate separate from what already exists in Starfleet as Starfleet Intelligence."

Clancy stared at Mayla for a long moment, then turned to MacLeod, “Well, you called that one right.”

MacLeod grimaced. He was about to address Vree when Clancy waved him off and turned her attention toward the young woman.

“The decision has been made. The Federation Council wants Security Council oversight,” she said firmly. “If this is not satisfactory to you, I can offer you a transfer to any branch of Starfleet you’d like to go to, Commander.”

Her gaze then was directed at Lazarus, “The same goes for you, Captain Lazarus. This is an experiment, plain and simple. The council feels there is too much interference by Starfleet Command and Starfleet Intelligence in the functioning of Shadow Operations. They want the Security Council to direct your team to wherever they feel your talents are needed. Immediate response to any threat, rather than directing Starfleet Command to direct Starfleet Intelligence to then direct Shadow Operations to do whatever is needed.”

Mayla looked from Clancy, to MacLeod, and to Lazarus, ignoring Cuxtal on purpose. "Will Admiral MacLeod have final say as to the missions we are to perform?"

Clancy appeared to grind her teeth for a moment, then nodded to Vree, “Admiral MacLeod can refuse a mission. In that event he’ll notify me and together we will review the assignment and discuss any objections.”

Mayla hid a scowl on her face from the non-answer she got. It didn't matter that much, since the admiralty always does whatever it wants to do. Who could have expected things to remain the same once Sorvek was gone? That was something she shouldn't have even entertained the notion of. She then gestured lightly to change the subject.

"In regards to Raillius' transfer, are there any regs against a Marine colonel taking the 2IC spot?" She looked over to Jahkar. "If he wants it, that is."

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.15

Jahkar was taken back for a moment at the announcement that not only was Shadow Ops remaining active, but they were getting new accommodations and new oversight. Governmental oversight. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The team would not be hindered by Starfleet bureaucracy, but instead the Federation Council’s own bureaucracy.

What was it his drill instructor called government operations? He called it a ‘snafu’ -- Situation Normal All F\*\*ked Up.

Then he was even more surprised to hear Vree wanted him as 2IC. The offer didn’t have to sit long on his plate, the half-Romulan/Klingon gave Vree a nod, “It would be my honor, commander.”

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.15

Daryl was surprised as he heard MacLeod promote him to the rank Lt. Commander.

"Thank you, sir!" He replied after a few moments.

"Congrats mate!" Beckett said, slamming Daryl firmly on the shoulder.

Daryl smiled, but he really hadn't expected a promotion, especially as he only had been reinstated as a Lt. just about 2 years ago. His eyes crossed McCulloch's, who gave him a thumbs up, as MacLeod already continued with the next topic.

Daryl was glad to hear that Phoenix Team would be kept active, now called Phoenix Squad. They would get a new base and a new command ship! He decided to organise a celebration for his promotion. Maybe he could do it together with Tiri, as she was promoted as well.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.15

Reepchip gave a squeak and a happy perk of his ears and flip of his tail when he heard that the MadCaps were being transferred to R&D on Umbra Prime.  The deep friendship he’d had with them had been clear to one and all while they were on the *Resurrection*, especially with Daven Corhees.  “Will I be helping the other Madcaps in refitting Umbra Prime?” he asked.

Clancy looked across the table at the Muran and then glanced toward MacLeod, “That’s up to the admiral.”

“The Madcaps will be setting up R&D, Starfleet will handle the refit of the station,” MacLeod said. “Your time will be spent primarily with the squad in training.”

Reepchip’s ears twitched back in disappointment, but he didn’t complain.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.17

Ryramorl grunted as he realized that they were no longer answerable to Starfleet, but only to the Security Council--much like the Special Forces were answerable to the OverKings, and no-one else.  He wondered what might happen if the Federation objected to something the Carnora were doing--he’d be caught in the middle, inevitably betraying someone.  He gave an amused look at Reepchip’s glee at working with his old friends again--though Reepchip’s question betrayed the fact that the Muran clearly saw himself as a member of the Madcaps still.  He wondered if either Clancy or Cuxtal had ever encountered the experiments of the Madcaps--or fallen victim to Reepchip’s pranks in the Academy

He spoke up, shifting a bit uncomfortably due to the kink in his tail that his chair was giving him.  “Admiral Clancy, are we to enter this new base immediately?” he asked.

“You’ll return to Earth aboard *Resurrection* and be taken out to the new station to get a look,” she said. “Temporary quarters have been arranged on Earth at Starfleet until the outpost is ready for occupancy.”

“Understood, ma’am,” he said.

Commander Mayla Vree

Conference Room

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.17

After Jahkar accepted the offer for 2IC, the Admiralty continued to answer questions from the other attendees in the room with some coaxing from the Rigelian. But Mayla remained silent for the rest of the time, despite what was going on in her head. Whatever she said wasn't going to matter. She was just a cog in the wheel, as she should be regardless of who was turning the wheel.

In her eyes, she opened a private subvocal channel to Lazarus. "Do you see what they're doing? They're replacing Section 31 with us."

"It does seem that way. But at least we'll have oversight and not free reign to do whatever we want to do."

"You know they can order us to work against Starfleet."

That made Lazarus silent, but she could see how his lips had tightened up. "We'll tread carefully."

"I don't like this," she told him. "The Sorvek in me tells me something else is going on."

"Maybe there is. But we have to let it play out. Clancy said it was an experiment. It's important we stay in whatever loop they want us in so we can watch the climate change and deem what actions we need to take. Truth usually reveals itself in time."

Now it was Mayla who became silent, surprised at Lazarus' far reaching insight. "Since when did you become so introspective?"

"Your damn paranoia. Reminded me of your father every time he questioned what was going on around us. Old habits die hard."

"Have you talked with MacLeod about this reorganization?"

"Not yet, we've just been notified of all this just now."

"I wonder how he can agree to this. Maybe he's got something up his sleeve too."

"I wouldn't put it across him." Lazarus swiveled his head as if following a conversation. "He's not Sorvek, but we all have to get used to changes in the chain of command. We'll adapt along the way. And so will you."

"And hope we don't get stabbed in the back along the way by some politician." Mayla almost laughed at the comment.

"Don't laugh. Because that's not funny."

"I'm not laughing because it's funny. I'm laughing at the ludicrous nature of the beast."

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Admiral Ian MacLeod

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.17

After Vree and her team had left the admiral’s command ship, Lazarus waited outside the conference room for MacLeod to emerge. When he finally did, Lazarus could see the new CO of Shadow Ops was not having a good day.

They started down the corridor toward the transporter room and there was a long silence until Lazarus finally spoke.

“So, what do you think of this whole thing?” he asked.

“I think Commander Vree needs to come down off her high horse,” the Scot grumbled. “There is a problem here, Quentin. Clancy saw it today and she has some bloody concerns about it now. Mayla’s reaction there was reaffirmation for me that she has possibly been too close to this operation for her entire life. She is paranoid, like her father, and she’s become overly possessive of the organization.”

Lazarus suddenly felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, “She cares. Sorvek was like her...grandfather.”

MacLeod stopped and turned toward his friend, “That’s the bloody problem, Quentin. It’s like a family business to her. She was raised in it and if it changes in some way she doesn’t like, we get what we saw in that conference room earlier. Clancy is no Janeway. She’s not a woman who’s flexible, she’s all-business, get it done now or else.”

Lazarus nodded, “You’re right, but she has a point. Governmental oversight? It makes it sound like we’re the Federation Council’s personal hit squad.”

MacLeod scowled, “Oh bloody hell, Quent! They’re trying to give us less red-tape to cut through in order to utilize the team more efficiently. Instead of the orders coming down from the top, through Starfleet, now they’ll just come from the top. It has some advantages.”

“It also could be corrupted,” Lazarus said in a hushed voice. “This last mission, with Legion, they had infiltrated the presidency of the Federation. Now we want to put the new president and the Security Council in charge of Shadow Operations? You’ve got to have some concerns yourself?”

“I do,” he hissed. “I see the potential there for misuse of the team. I also see this making our jobs easier. My point isn’t about whether Mayla is right or wrong, my point is she’s become paranoid and possessive of the organization. Clancy thinks it’s a problem, I’m trying to convince her it isn’t. She needs to express these concerns in private. Not in a bloody meeting with the admiral and the entire team present.”

Lazarus sighed, “I agree. I’ll talk to her.”

“When you do, tell her this,” MacLeod grumbled. “Tell her I won’t sanction any mission that doesn’t sound like it falls within Shadow Ops perimeters. But, I expect her to bring her concerns to you or I, not blurt them out in a team meeting with the bloody head of Starfleet. Can you tell her highness that for me, Captain?”

“Of course,” Lazarus said, looking at MacLeod with concern. “You’re a little wound up about this Ian. Calm down.”

They resumed walking and MacLeod gave a faint laugh, “Calm down? It’s not that easy. I have big shoes to fill and I’m trying to walk a tightrope between what the powers that be want and what is right. I’m trying to keep this team going and it doesn’t help when I’ve got the CO of the squad challenging decisions that are made above her and I both.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Lazarus reaffirmed.

“Hell, knowing her she probably had her own ideas about who should be leading Shadow Ops in the wake of Sorvek’s death,” MacLeod sighed. “I need you to keep a tight rein on the team. If there is dissent, if there is a sense of insubordination from anyone there, I need to be made aware. Understood?”

“Of course,” Lazarus replied as they walked into the transporter room. “So, where are we going now?”

“Back to Earth. They’re making the station available for us to move in. While you and the team are overseeing that, I’ll be on Earth meeting with the Security Council and Clancy to finish hammering out the details of this new...arrangement.”

Lieutenant William McCulloch

*USS Ajax*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.17

Will felt he was watching a tennis match as the conversation between the officers above his pay grade continued. He could easily see that Vree, Lazarus and MacLeod were clearly uncomfortable as Clancy and Cuxtal explained the new...arrangements.

The Scot knew the re-assignment of the Shadow Ops program to the Security Council was a recipe for disaster where he and his teammates would be the likely losers. McCulloch simply couldn’t envision a scenario where either his team ended up as the scapegoat for a botched operation or the springboard for a politician’s future aspirations. Regardless he opposed the new oversight.

McCulloch wanted to voice his objection but he knew it was not his place to open his mouth. He was still new to the team and to be honest, he was almost certain that neither MacLeod or Clancy would want to hear from him. As a result the Scot continued to watch the exchange, noting the change in Lazarus and Vree’s body language as the discussion continued.

On the upside, if the team was led to be sent to the slaughter in the name of some future political issue, at least he could be buried with Jahkar and the newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Thompson. Of course, if they were buried together, hopefully the future enemy would be kind enough to bury the three face down so they could see where they were going….

The Overseer

Lieutenant/Special Forces Agent Ryramorl Ra’yral

Head of Carnora Special Forces Hworyal Andruvar

CPSS Jayar Dagger

Stardate 2102.18

After the team was back on the Resurrection, they got a hail from a Carnora ship.  When the Resurrection answered, it was a message from the Overseer.  “Greetings.  I am the Overseer of the Antevas System, and with me is First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral’s superior in the Carnora Special Forces Hworyal Andruvar in the South Arnor Hills.

“We desire a debriefing from this same Ryramorl, to know what has been happening in the United Federation of Planets, as it is the greatest ally of My Children.  Said debriefing may be either aboard this ship, or on yours under your supervision.  Also, in the future, should you need to borrow one of my officers, however briefly, do warn us all beforehand.  Hworyal has described his opinion of his unexpected sojourn on your ship in thorough and lurid detail, and Carnora profanity is so distressingly grisly.”  Even though the Overseer was fully armoured, the crew could see him squirm.  “I’m not even sure humans have the organs he’s describing.”

MacLeod waved Ryramorl off, “Go ahead, they are allies and have a vested interest in Shadow Operations by loaning us two of their people. Just be sure to observe protocol in regard to classified information.”

On the Jayar Dagger, Ryramorl stood before both Hworyal and the Overseer, giving an account of what had happened, including the destruction of his revolvers.  He explained that Legion had the goal of destabilizing all major powers of the Alpha Quadrant in hopes of bringing about a new era in which the Galaxy could rebuild.

“Idiot,” growled Hworyal.  “It would be like the chaos just after the Great Teaching,” he snarled.

“A dreadful mistake of impatience,” said the Overseer, sadly, referring to the Great Teaching.

“Is this the Legion that the Nameless Born-Nowhere was trying to contact?” asked Hworyal.

“Please clarify the identity of this ‘Nameless Born-Nowhere’,” said The Overseer.

“Oregarek Zaveron Island Great Ring Sea’s eldest son.  His original name was Oradallen Davellon Island Great Ring Sea, but he cheated in his manhood trial and refused to repent.  So now he has no name, and no land will be his birthplace, Hallowed One,” responded Ryramorl.

“Ah.  He.  Continue, please.”

Ryramorl nodded.  “I think it was this Legion he was trying to contact, but just before I killed the head of Legion, he insisted he had nothing to do with the Carnora--he didn’t consider us a threat.  He may have never even heard the name Oradallen.”

“So he tried to bring Legion down on us, and got ignored,” said Hworyal.  “My shock and surprise knows no beginning.  So what’s left of Legion?”

“From what I understand, very little.  I and Jahkar killed their leader, their movements failed, and I understand that the last major stronghold on Turkana IV was destroyed.”

“Which leaves one final question--what is the fate of Federation President Aaron Gant?  Why did he utterly vanish so?” asked The Overseer.

Ryramorl took a deep breath.  He’d feared this--to Hworyal, he could dissemble, to the Overseer, he had to speak open truth.  “Admiral Ian MacLeod has asked me not to reveal the full truth, Hallowed One.  All I can say is that President Gant is dead.  I have seen his corpse.”

“Then let us remain silent on the matter.”  The Overseer understood Ryramorl’s need to remain silent on certain things--just as, up until the Dominion War, the Federation was kept at arm’s length to keep them from learning about the Citadel and the actual origin of the Carnora.

“So, what now?” asked Hworyal.

“You will stay with them, Ryramorl,” said the Overseer.  “Keep an eye on this Federation.  Your best ally they may be, but I do not fully trust them.”

“Are you going straight back to your base of operations?” Hworyal asked Ryramorl.

Ryramorl shook his head.  “No, we’re going to Earth first for some training.”

“See if you can return to Carnor and get your revolvers replaced,” Hworyal said.

“I will,” said Ryramorl.

“Oh, before you do that, you will be my stand-in for a Lesser Duel.  Find out who caught me in that accursed hocus-pocus and brought me aboard that ship and wrap his tail around his neck.  That’s an order,” growled the older Olvern.

“Yes, sir!” said Ryramorl with a grin.  The two Olvern rubbed faces, and Ryramorl respectfully bared his throat to the Overseer, who touched his face.  Then he keyed his comm.  “Ryramorl here, ready to beam over.”  After a moment, he said in a faux-sour tone, “And this time, don’t take Hworyal with me.”

As he materialized in the teleportation room, he saw one ensign looking sheepish.  He made a beeline for him.  “Tell me your name, Ensign.”

“Ensign Toth, sir.”

“You beamed three Carnora signals over earlier, Ensign?.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, swallowing hard.

“Did you partake in any combative sports in Starfleet Academy, Ensign?”

“...I was on the Academy wrestling team, sir.”

“Excellent.  You will meet me in the holodeck when your shift is over.”

Ryramorl then left the transporter room, leaving Ensign Toth to sweat over what Ryramorl wanted him for.

He went to see if he could find either Commander Vree or Admiral MacLeod to seek a quick trip to his homeworld.

After he’d wrapped Ensign Toth’s tail around his neck, as the Carnora phrase went.

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Vulcan

Stardate 2102.18

Will stepped off the transporter padd with most of the team. Curiously, Vree and Lazarus beamed back separately from the others.

Once back on board the *Resurrection*, Thompson and Jahkar insisted that the team gather for a short celebration of newly announced promotions. Although the Scot tried to politely decline, the marine colonel would not hear of it.

As the group quietly made their way to a location they refused to disclose to McCulloch, Will noticed Ensign Thrice walking towards the group. He rolled his eyes and steeled himself for another confrontation with the belligerent ensign. Surprisingly, the young Trill stopped, snapped to attention and stared straight ahead. As the group passed her location she addressed McCulloch, she spoke.

“Lieutenant Commander McCulloch, a word with you, sir.” She asked.

“For God’s sake Will, please don’t get mixed up with this one.” Thompson pleaded with McCulloch “I’m pretty sure she’d launch you out of a torpedo tube if she had the chance.”

The Scot nodded in understanding before signaling the ensign to walk with him. The pair fell back about ten meters behind the team as they continued to advance down the passageway.

“Sir, I wish to apologize for my behavior towards you since you arrived on the Resurrection.”

McCulloch studied the Trill for a moment before addressing her.

“I sense you are not a fan of mine Ensign Thrice.”

“What ever gave you that idea?” She coldly quipped.

McCulloch eyed her suspiciously for a moment before responding. “Tell me, did you learn to hate me in your ethics or law class while at the Academy?”

“Actually neither.” Thrice responded matter of factly.

“Well you must have heard of my ... exploits … at some point in your career to show such blatant disrespect of me.”

“Coltar IV.” She immediately answered.

“I’ve never been there and I couldn’t even tell you where it is.” McCulloch announced as he looked ahead. From time to time Thompson would look back at McCulloch to make sure the Ensign wasn’t trying to gut him.

“You haven’t been there sir, but the Black Watch has.” Thrice responded in a low, cold tone.

McCulloch stopped in his tracks and looked at the ensign. “Excuse me Ensign?”

“After your betrayal and incarceration, the Black Watch became emboldened. It saw its encounter with Bravo Squad as a victory and they began expanding its operational objectives. YOU set in motion a chain of events that created an opportunity for the Black Watch to operate in areas outside the control of Starfleet with impunity.”

McCulloch stiffened and clenched his jaw. Admittedly, he knew she wasn’t lying. Despite Bravo Squad and Starfleet’s best efforts to control the Black Watch after his betrayal and incarceration, the paramilitary organization thrived for another four years as it attempted to secure weapons of mass destruction and terrorize planets outside of the Federation’s control. When all efforts failed, Starfleet called in Taryn Kane and her rogue band of traitors, criminals and mercenaries to deal with the organization. Under the guidance of MCCulloch, a stake was driven through the heart of the terrorist organization.

“The Black Watch is long gone. I don’t know …” McCulloch reflectively answered before Thrice interrupted them.

“The Black Watch killed my aunt and cousin on Coltar IV when they refused to turn over research data on a biological delivery system they had been working on.” Thrice angrily announced before checking herself. She looked around briefly before regaining her composure.

McCulloch stared at the ensign in stunned silence as a wave of regret and remorse started to overcome him. He knew he could apologize to Thrice for his past, but he knew the plea would fall on deaf ears. Instead, McCulloch simply resumed his walk down the passageway.

Surprisingly, the ensign continued to walk with him. The Scot had to give her credit. She never raised her voice nor caused a scene. To the casual onlooker, including the members of Phoenix Squad, it appeared as if Thrice was trying to carry a conversation with McCulloch.

“When did it happen?” McCulloch asked softly.

“Eighteen months after your incarceration, around the time you were reported as being killed in the Severus Prison explosion.” She announced through her teeth. “So you can understand why I’m not a fan of traitors who unleashed terrorist organizations upon society with no regard for the consequences.”

Will remained silent for a moment as the pair continued down the hallway. Finally, the Scot broke the silence. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Permission to speak freely?” The Trill asked.

“Granted.” McCulloch answered.

“Because we have to serve on the same ship.  I will salute you, I will follow all lawful orders you give me and I will never engage in any signs of disrespect.”

“But?” McCulloch countered as the pair stopped a second time in the hallway.

“You need to be aware that your actions years ago with the Black Watch had implications far beyond your selfish desire to avenge your injured wife through a private war. People died because of your decisions. I want you to remember that every damn time you encounter me, I represent the victims of the Black Watch...the people brutalized, tortured and murdered by you and that vile organization.”

“Do you know how many there are?” Will asked with regret.

“I do but you don’t want to know that number.”

Will tried his best to display no emotions, but inside he wanted to vomit. He felt his body start to shake as a feeling of grief and regret started to overwhelm him. After a tense moment  of internal conflict he cleared his throat.

“Anything else Ensign?” McCulloch quietly demanded as he stared past the Trill.

Thrice stared at McCulloch momentarily

“No sir. Permission to be dismissed?”

“Granted.” The Scot replied as he watched the ensign walk away.

McCulloch reflected in silence for a moment and thought back to “Operation Griffin”, the mission Taryn Kane’s mercenary team led against the Black Watch. It was the sixth of seven missions Will had to complete in exchange for his criminal record being expunged and his rank restored.

The lengthy operation concluded with a two day pitched battle that pitted the Black Watch against Kane’s mercenary band and several privately contracted paramilitary organizations that agreed to help her in exchange for immunity from Federation criminal prosecution.

When the fight was over, the Black Watch had been permanently shut down. Granted, a small number escaped but most of those either were caught or killed themselves.

But McCulloch ... he was tossed aside once the fight was over. Shortly after the conclusion of the battle, Starfleet ordered Kane’s team to be dissolved and McCulloch denied what he had been promised … a full pardon and a reinstatement of his rank.

To add insult to injury, any reference to McCulloch in the official records of Operation Griffin was erased. Even if Will wanted to disclose to Ensign Thrice, Commander Vree or others about his role against the Black Watch, there was simply no record to corroborate his claim.

McCulloch simply exhaled and did his best to put Thrice’s comments behind him as he walked faster to catch up to the members of his new team.

Commander Mayla Vree

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection* in route to Sol Sector

Stardate 2102.18

She wiped blood from her face with her sleeve as she controlled her breathing. She didn't have to look at the carnage around her caused by her bloody katanas to know she had a lot of pent up anger and frustration. With the death of Sorvek, carrying his katra, absorbing his memories and experiences, the stewardship of Project Blackthorn, the reinstatement of McCulloch, and estrangement from her father, she was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the emotional drama of these recent events. And more alone than ever. Ever since she carried Sorvek's katra, she noticed how suppressed her emotions had become, and at the same time, expressive. And when it does express itself it came out in displays of cynicism and sarcasm regardless of who was present to see it. Was this an after effect of Sorvek's eternal soul? Were his last thoughts to finally release all of his emotions?

She was standing alone in a large patch of dirt surrounded by a rocky setting, someplace on Vulcan. Surrounding her were the bodies of several dozen mercenary types of all races intent on killing her. It was one of those holodeck combat training programs that randomly chose a setting and to materialize any race known to Starfleet to fight her with whatever weapons it also randomly chose, energy or melee. Her blood-soaked fatigues hung on her wet as if she had taken a swim in it. The several burned parts were near misses from various energy and disruptor weapon blasts she evaded. She fell to her knees and jabbed both katanas into the ground. She closed her eyes to calm herself.

"Computer, load my Hundred Acre Wood program; in the evening with a campfire."

The room went dark as the setting changed to a campfire alone in the middle of the forest at night. The setting brought back memories of comrades sitting around the campfire telling stories that had nothing to do with anything. Although they weren't her own memories, she still felt comforted by it.

She got up and walked over to one of several makeshift chairs surrounding the fire; tree stumps, logs, and rocks to be used for anyone who fancies them. She had slightly altered the program when she came on board where she created seating places suited for Phoenix Squad members. There was even a seat sized for Charatetet. The silent forest only had the fluttering sounds of leaves and creaking of the branches in the wind. But deep through the quietness, it still had a soothing relaxing air to the reticent chirps of birds, insects, and maybe even the delicate trickling of a stream nearby.

She loved being here. More so than the Jarran Falls of Risa her father loved so much. She found the violent sound of waterfalls distracting and noisy for her mind to settle into calmness. But this, in the dark, with only the circle of light illuminating the small visible area wouldn't allow her eyes to wander too far into the darkness. The constellation filled sky was framed by tall, stumpy leafed trees fluttering just a tiny bit in a gentle wind.

It was too bad this place didn't really exist. Or maybe it does, in some similar forest on some planet in the universe. But this Hundred Acre Wood was a figment of imaginative antics of a bear and his woodland friends; a piglet, a rabbit, an owl, a tigger, a kangaroo, and of all things, a donkey. Linsayla and Khymas Towens often read the children these old Earth stories. Fun and imagination was the main event of every day when they were young.

A far cry from a story book now, she thought to herself as she settled into a seat cut out from the remnants of a tree stump. She picked up the canteen that was conveniently held in a cup holder on the side of the tree stump and took a long draw from it. The crackling fire danced in front of her as she allowed herself into a trance to sort through the emotions of the past week. She let herself fall into the swirling light's embrace as she floated through memories and emotions that figuratively were shelved and forgotten. She remembered when one of Ky's former hosts, Tayna, was ambassador to Vulcan. Her Vulcan advisor taught her the meditative techniques Vulcan's used to suppress emotions. If she was to be an ambassador stationed on Vulcan, she had to be void of emotions when she spoke to Vulcans or she would not earn their respect. But when she had queried him that any type of suppressed emotion needed an outlet, the answer he gave her wasn't satisfactory enough for a Trill. In fact, it didn't help her at all. She had to find her own way.

Then Mayla heard the holodeck door open and close. She remained motionless and kept her eyes closed as she could hear the footfalls of her captain come to the campfire. He didn't sit, but stood on the opposite side. Despite the peaceful setting in the night and the soothing crackling of the small fire, he saw her twin blades still standing where she jabbed them into the ground, and the blood soaked fatigues she still had on.

"I've been calling for you."

"Sorry, I had my subvocal and internal AI shut off. I needed some time to myself." She said, still with her eyes closed and slowing her heart rate.

"There was something I was meaning to ask you earlier today," he started. "How did your meeting go with Ky?"

She didn't respond physically to the question. She just sat there as thoughts whirled around in her head. How much should she tell him? How much did he need to know?

"Well enough," was all she responded with.

He waited a moment wondering if she was going to tell him anything more. But it didn't seem like it was forthcoming. "That doesn't sound like you, or him."

She shook her head, deciding she didn't want to talk about it with anyone at the moment. "It is what it is, Captain."

He had hoped to hear more about her visit, but now know it didn't go as well as she thought it might, or hoped. He inwardly shook his head with sympathy for the woman. He knew how close the father and daughter were, this wasn't what he had expected to hear from the reunion.

"One other thing I forgot to mention to you earlier. Lieutenant Sh'avelith informed me that the Bethesda has been unresponsive to her messages about Tiken. I did a general query about the ship and it's gone off the grid. Even their status reports have gone missing." She took a deep breath and let it out.

Lazarus thought about it for a moment before answering. "You shouldn't be inquiring about it. You might get yourself into trouble." Now he segued to the real reason he needed to talk with her. He folded his arms across his chest and changed his tone. "Speaking of trouble, you were out of line in that meeting. MacLeod doesn't want it to ever happen again. You have problems to air out, you do it to me or him."

She kept her eyes closed and leaned back into the backrest. "I apologize for that. A lot has happened in the past week."

"You don't often mouth off to the admiralty, what is wrong with you?"

Mayla now opened her eyes and looked at him. "I don't know. You'd figure with all these memories and experiences I have in my head, I'd know better than that."

"Sorvek would have known better than that, Commander."

"He does," she suddenly stammered. "I mean, he did. I have memories of him meeting with Janeway, Zhao, and Gant about us. And he kept his mouth closed about how he felt despite what he was being ordered to do with us. But in contrast to what they ordered, he still took his own initiative to do what he had to do to expose President Gant."

"And it cost him his life because he acted alone."

"He had no choice. Who could he trust?" Mayla sat up and leaned forward, picking up a wet towel that happened to be conveniently in arms reach. She started forcefully wiping her hands clean of blood, finger by finger. Even though it was holographic blood. "I even have memories when they told him Shadow Ops was being shut down."

"You're not channeling that distrust from what happened to him, are you?"

"All of Starfleet brass followed President Gant without question; without any suspicion. And we could have lost everything we worked so hard to prevent. That worries me if no one in power is watching out for it; it could most certainly happen again." She paused for just a moment as if realizing something. "I think that's Sorvek's emotional fear talking, even though no one has ever heard him say it."

"It's not for you to worry." Lazarus' voice rose a notch. "You are a Starfleet officer under the direction of those with that ultimate responsibility of protecting the Federation and its interests. It's not your job to make policy. The ONLY job you have is to do what they tell you to do."

"At least when the orders came down through Starfleet, there were checks and balances before it filtered down to us as to the validity of the mission."

"MacLeod said he will have the final say in the missions we'll be assigned. You need to put your trust in him. He's not new to Shadow Ops, you know. He's been with us almost since the beginning."

At least there's that, Mayla thought to herself instead of saying it out loud. Which she almost did. She stayed silent and just stared at the dancing flames while absentmindedly still wiping her hands.

The dazed blank look on her face worried him. "I sense a change in you ever since you carried Sorvek's katra. Does this recent behavior have anything to do with that?"

Mayla just shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know. It has been a long time since I've had an influx of 160 years of new memories and emotions. Perhaps I am still...adjusting to it; assimilating it all. Although it feels different this time. The memories aren't Trill or Linea. A Vulcan, any vulcan, has a lot of pent up emotions. I might not have the ability to readily suppress them like they do."

"I wouldn't say it's easy for them to do so."

"But they've practiced the discipline since childhood." She took another draw from her canteen. "I'm sorry about what I did at the meeting in front of the team. It wasn't personal nor aimed at you or MacLeod, but was nevertheless disrespectful to the both of you. I'll keep my mouth shut from now on."

"Just keep it shut when you're in the presence of the admirals. I still need to hear your thoughts and suspicions so I can gauge your sanity and fitness to continue to lead this team. And I still require your input. But if you go off half cocked like that again, I'll yank you out myself. Is that clear?"

"Affirmative."

Lazarus continued to stand there to see if he could read her emotions. But all he could see was a tiredness in her eyes and face. And maybe a bit of sadness and resignation. She may just be 29 years old, but her eyes were old; hundreds of years old. Even her stature spoke of an inner conflict, if that's what it really was.

Then all of a sudden he recognized something while he studied her in their silence. He'd seen this forlorn, lost, and bitter attitude before; her eyes, her face, her demeanor. But it was in her father. It was the portent of a broken spirit.

Back to top

## S3, E3, Act 2: Arrival at Spacedock (extended edition)

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.25

Ensign Toth sighed as he was relieved from his post.  As he left the transporter room, he saw Ryramorl waiting for him.  With a gesture of his head, Ryramorl led the ensign towards the holodeck.  “You and I are going to have a wrestling match,” he said calmly.  Toth wasn’t about to argue with the big monster.

Seeing the deck was free, Ryramorl entered, and started a program which was simply a normal amateur wrestling ring and set the rules to “Federation Standard freestyle,” somewhat to Toth’s relief.

As the two went through warmup stretches, Ryramorl asked Toth about his time on the Academy wrestling team.

“I was in the 79 kg division,” Toth said.  “I’m guessing you were in the Heavyweight division?”

“Super Heavyweight.  It was hard for Starfleet to find opponents my size.”  He grunted.  “Some tournaments, I didn’t wrestle at all.”

With their stretching done, the two males faced off against each other, then came forwards to grapple.  Ryramorl was surprised--and impressed--by Toth’s abilities; the human was no pushover and came close to pinning Ryramorl twice in the three matches they had, but Ryramorl’s superior reach, strength, and experience won out in the end, beating Toth in three straight matches.

“So, was there a point to randomly challenging me like this?” asked Toth as they went through their cool-down stretches.

“The third Carnora you beamed over was Hworyal Andruvar in the South Arnor Hills,” responded Ryramorl.  “He’s the head of Carnora Special Forces.  He hates transporters--only a few of the newer Carnora ships have them--so he gave me a direct order to find out who transported him and kick their ass.  Your guilty expression gave you away.”

Toth sputtered.  “It was a mistake!  I didn’t realize you two were still in physical contact!” he protested.

Ryramorl made a calming gesture.  “I know it was a mistake.  So does Hworyal.  Once we’re done to our stretches, I’ll take you to the mess hall, we’ll Share Water, and I’ll tell you a bit more.”

At the mess hall, Ryramorl replicated two cups and a jug of water, and brought them to the table.  “Let us Share Water,” he said, pouring out a cup for Toth, then himself.  “If you got a transcription of the threats Hworyal made in my quarters, that’s just standard Carnoric profanity,” said Ryramorl.  “If Hworyal really did intend to do that to you, he’d have come after you himself.”  He took a drink of water.  “He’d have also lost a lot of respect and maybe even his position for insisting on a Greater Duel over a simple error.”

“Greater Duel?”

“The Carnora have two types of duels--the Lesser and the Greater.  The Lesser is nothing more than a wrestling match like we just had, though usually throws, slams, and bodyblows are allowed.  It’s actually a popular sport.  Deeps, in some cities, you could be challenged simply for wearing a black sash.”  He took another drink.  Toth couldn’t quite read Carnora expressions or body language, but Ryramorl seemed amused.  “In those cities, you have street vendors selling black sashes for two small coins--I don’t remember what they’re actually called--and buying them back for one.  So, of course, every morning you’ll see hundreds of youngsters flaunting black sashes and looking for trouble.”

“Did you ever wear one?” asked Toth, carefully.

“My tribe lives in a different part of the world, so I never visited those cities as a youth,” he explained.  “But even if we did frequent those cities, I would never rely on a bit of cloth to look tough.”  He leaned in and spoke softly.  “I would proudly wear a Black Sash because I would have been the only one strong enough to have the right to do so, and I would demonstrate in full to every weanling who thought dipping their swaddling clothes in soot meant they were tough just how pathetic they were and that they had no business wearing a Black Sash.”  He proudly punched his palm with a macho smirk.

Toth blinked at Ryramorl’s statement and muttered “Just like all the other meatheads,” under his breath.

Ryramorl had better hearing than Toth gave him credit for and gave a low, growling laugh.  “Exactly.  There’s a reason Myaral--my brother--is now Chief and I am not.  Now that I’m older and have the rank that I do, wearing a black sash would be seen as unacceptably immature.”

“But beating me up is fine?”

“...You did say you wrestled in Starfleet Academy.  So did I, and I know the rules well, and stayed within them.  Which reminds me, I commend you on how well you did in your matches against me.  You are not bruised, not limping, nor even all that sore from what I can tell.  I’d hardly say I beat you up.”

“What if I said I didn’t wrestle at all?”

“Then I’d have told Hworyal that you did not wrestle, and therefore I could not, in good conscience, challenge you to a Lesser Duel, and that would have been the end of it.”

Toth visibly relaxed at that.  The two drank their water for a while, then Toth spoke up again.  “What’s the Greater Duel?”

“It is to the death,” said Ryramorl seriously.  “When fighting the Greater Duel, you are only armed with what the gods have given you at birth,”--he bared his claws and teeth briefly to demonstrate--”and you are clad in the same.  Also, while Lesser Duels are often watched by entire crowds of people, Greater Ones are only observed by one other--who watches to confirm who wins--and fought in places hidden from public view.  Many times, both duelists die.  Many times, both end up too injured to finish the other off.  Rarely does the winner fully recover from it.  And it is only fought over the gravest of wrongs.”  He chuffed a bit.  “Accidentally locking onto someone with a transporter does not count.”

Toth continued drinking quietly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ryramorl.  “Go ahead and be blunt.”

“To be honest, sir, what you did to Zo’ar Zh’riakrer is still told around Starfleet Academy.  When you said you wanted to see me in the holodeck...”

Ryramorl sighed and hung his head.  “Ah.  That.”

“Yes.  That.”

Ryramorl stared at his water for a long time.  “It is something I have atoned for for a long time.  It is, in fact, why I’m here.”  He took a deep breath.  “Zo’ar and I were burrs in each other’s pelts the moment we met, and it got worse from there.  We’d gotten into a few scraps, but the last one---I lost control of myself and went berserk.  Thank the gods there were telekinetics in the dorm, for it was they who held me back.”

“Yeah, but how the hell did you get away with it?”  asked Toth.  Ryramorl stared at him flatly until it dawned on Toth.  “...you didn’t.”

“I was punished as far as both the Federation and the then-Carnoric Republic could go without me being straight-up court martialled by both sides because neither one wanted to have a potential alliance go down the drain.  It took two Admirals--one to whom we just paid honour--to even keep me in the Academy.  My credits for the year were annulled, and I got a hell of a black mark on my record in Starfleet Academy.  At home, I got a First-Level Reprimand--literally one step below our court martial--from the then-President himself, and a dressing-down worthy of Agavan, Lord of Wrath, Himself from the Chief of Tribe Chiefs of the Ra’yrals.”  He took in a deep breath.  “It was bad enough that the President and my Chief were angry at me--but my mentor and friend Shor-Ghan and my brother Myaral were deeply disappointed.  That was far and away the worst.”

The two finished their water.  As they got up, Ryramorl clapped Toth on the shoulder.  “You and I need to wrestle more.  Your skills are getting rusty--and so are mine.”

Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Sol Sector

Stardate 2102.25

It was nearing the end of the gamma shift and all was quiet on the bridge with only a skeleton crew of three when the *Resurrection* came out of warp while approaching Sector 001. Mayla was given the opportunity to take the helm for their Earth approach, but in actuality, she had taken the ship on an indulgent run through the Kuiper Belt surrounding the Sol System. With the *Resurrection'*s assigned helmsman, Lieutenant Commander Revu, standing beside her that is.

And with the Bajoran's permission, she also took it by Saturn to have a quick glimpse at their new base of operations. They headed towards the coordinates given to them by Admiral MacLeod, but when they arrived above Saturn's rings, the station wasn't anywhere to be seen. It didn't even show up on sensors.

"Not much to see," Revu said. "The coordinates the Admiral gave us were wrong."

Mayla shook her head. She attuned the sensors to an area of disruption she noticed on the planet's side of the F ring; Saturn's outermost ring. Mayla enlarged the image area and if it weren't for the dozens of workpods swirling around an area, they would have missed it. The ring of rock masked the station's sensor readings.

"Not wrong, it was the station's last known position." She looked at the station's new coordinates. "They moved the station to Saturn's rings. On the inner side of the F ring, to be precise."

"Nice hiding place," Revu said.

She set a new course heading and as soon as they received clearance to approach, they came as close as they could without disrupting the work going on. Staying clear of the workpods and engineering repair ships, they recorded several visuals of the station so Mayla could study it later to see what types of changes they were making to the once defensive outpost. Surprised and impressed at the swiftness of the work crews and how much was already done, they quickly left Saturn's orbit to keep out of their way. Admiral Clancy must have given the order for the refurbishment to begin before Sorvek's funeral on Vulcan. She certainly didn't waste any time. Or maybe Sorvek had already procured the station for Shadow Ops usage long ago.

Shortly after, Mayla adjusted their heading to avoid the Mars transit as the fires from the Synthetic Uprising were still burning even after nearly ten years. The trail of debris and residue in the planet's orbital wake was best to be avoided when possible. It was a grim reminder of the controversial events surrounding the assistance authorized to relocate 900 million Romulans from all of the inhabited worlds affected by their home sun's supernova.

"Commander Vree, is that what I think it is off the starboard bow?" Revu said, looking at the sensors at the helm console.

Mayla tapped a key and an image from the starboard side of the ship appeared in the air above the helm controls. "A wake angel?" she said, almost incredulously. "There's never been a report of a wake angel inside a sphere of solar influence."

Revu walked over to the vacant science station and brought the meek scientific sensors online. "It's a wake angel alright. Strangely just one." The Bajoran looked at the readings closely. "It's swimming in Mars' orbital wake."

Mayla still couldn't believe it. And neither could Revu or the young male Orion ensign named Lakim currently manning communications and ship's systems. He swiveled around in his chair to face the image of the creature that was now on the main viewer.

"Maybe it followed another starship here." Mayla speculated. "And got lost."

Twice the length of the *Resurrection* and glowing white from some internal bioluminescence, wake angels usually stayed together in flocks of up to ten and kept to nebulae to feed off the gasses and energies within. They were called wake angels because they occasionally fed off of the outgasses of starships, hence swimming in the 'wake' of a starship like Earth's dolphins following an ocean-going vessel. Glowing like a divine being, the angels would play around the path of a starship, as if buzzing it and playing with a mate. These beings with flowing white tendrils behind it like an Earth jellyfish were the true birds of space. The wing-like protrusions on either side made it look as if they were swimming gracefully through the ocean of empty space. But this particular one was here, strangely attracted to the burnt residue still being sloughed off from the Mars atmosphere.

With practiced ease, Mayla took manual control of the *Resurrection* and turned the ship to starboard, coming to a parallel course with the angel but keeping clear of Mars' orbital wake. She rolled the ship and rerouted the bussard collectors to expel the collected particles and gas to attract the angel. As if picking up a more attractive scent, it turned and swooped in a corkscrew motion towards them and mimicked the Resurrection's roll with the streaming gas in their swirling wake. Then she brought the ship into an up and down oscillation a few times before coming to a wider corkscrew path in the opposite direction. The angel mimicked them again and drew in closer to them.

"Bussard storages are at 20%," Lakim reported, glancing over to Revu while hiding his nervousness. Although the Trill outranked all of them, Revu was still the officer in command during this shift.

"I think we should return to our course heading, Commander," Revu said half heartedly with a sad frown. What helmsman didn't want to play with the rarity of a wake angel?

"Aye, sir," Mayla responded dutifully. She restored the bussard collectors back to their normal functions. But they played with the angel for another minute, or two, or three, before returning to their original course heading towards Earth.

It was said to be lucky to see a wake angel. Mayla hoped that luck would carry Shadow Operations through this transition smoothly from Sorvek's guardianship.

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Sol Sector

Stardate 2102.25

“Walk me through again how this happened?” The EMH asked as he continued to examine Will’s shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go to the holodeck to run through a training simulation again.”

The doctor paused for a moment as he reflected upon the Scot’s answer. “This was the second time you accessed the holodeck in less than twelve hours and the third time since you arrived onboard the *Resurrection*.”

“Aye.” Will answered softly as he watched the EMH. He knew the program was auditing his records from the holodeck.

“So, would you like to tell me what happened, or should I speculate what happened from your user logs?” The doctor demanded as a smile spread across his face.

McCulloch grumbled in silence for a moment before speaking. “Would you like me to give you the good news or the bad news first?”

“Whatever you prefer, it’s your story.” The EMH quipped.

“Well, I  took out the heavy disruptor placement with no casualties.”

“But?”

“I didn’t anticipate Klingon reinforcements attacking from the rear.”

The EMH shook his head in disappointment. “Clearly you never studied the Klingon tactics of the First Battle of Deep Space 9.”

“Apparently.” WIll replied, somewhat surprised at the EMH’s answer.

“My review of the holodeck logs suggest you lowered the safety protocols below what Commander Vree had previously set them at.”

“I don’t recall.” The Scot lied.

“Well, you and I both know that wasn’t very wise, especially when a Klingon is trying to cleave your arm with a bat’leth. You’re lucky he only dislocated your shoulder.”

The EMH seized the Scot’s left wrist, pulled the arm forward and straight and then snapped the arm bone back into the shoulder socket. The Scot yelped in pain before letting loose a string of expletives.

“You could have warned me!” He blurted out as he grimaced. Unsurprisingly,the EMH was not sympathetic.

“Lieutenant Commander,” The doctor announced as he injected a mild sedative into Will’s neck, “In the future, let’s follow Commander Vree’s safety protocols. More importantly, always remember to place a rear guard when attacking an enemy fortification. You forgot to do that during the last simulation.”

McCulloch shook his head in disbelief and slightly smirked before hopping down from the biobed. “Not a word to Commander Vree, Doctor.”

“As long you don’t do that again, I won’t say anything.” the EMH retorted as he gestured for the Scot to leave the sick bay.

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael

Lt. Madhavan Chopra

Ensign Blof

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.26

Reepchip stepped into Engineering, wanting to watch everything that was happening.  This part of the ship fascinated him, as it had on all ships.  He was Muran, after all, and Murans were always fascinated with the workings of things; and ability with intricate crafts and technology was one of the gifts from the Messengers specifically for them.  It was they who’d developed the strange clockwork computers of their older spaceships until contact with the Federation had taught them the fundamentals of electronics.  The special drive was something new to him, but the rest of it was familiar, and had there been a spot open, he’d have slipped right in.  But every engineering crew had a rhythm all their own, and he knew--from experience, no less--that trying to “lend a hand” would only disrupt that rhythm.

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael saw Reepchip enter engineering and he immediately left his station and made a B-line across the compartment to approach the Muran. As he neared Reepchip, he smiled, “What can I do for you, Mr. Reepchip?”

“I feel more at home here,” admitted Reepchip.  “I also work in Engineering at home, and took the engineering courses in Starfleet Academy.”  He looked around, then spoke more softly.  “I was hoping I could also maybe help out in here.  I never get tired of just how different Federation engineering is from Carnoric.”

Carmichael hadn’t heard much about Carnoric engineering other than most of it was virtually incompatible with Federation technology without serious jury-rigging.

The dark-skinned engineer appeared a little uncomfortable. Nearby, Lt. Madhavan Chopra looked over from his holographic station and he locked gazes with Carmichael. Both men seemed momentarily concerned, then Carmichael offered a smile, “I know you’d like to give us a hand, ensign, but I’m going to have to tell you what I told the Madcaps...details on the coaxial drive are classified. If you want to help out with other ship functions that would be great, but the drive is off-limits.”

Chopra seemed to inhale sharply and wandered away from his station to confer with another member of the engineering crew.

Reepchip got the sense Carmichael and his team were almost operating in secrecy; their reactions made him feel as if he’d just offered to help maintain the Citadel--the great temple on Carnor which held a portal to the dimension of the Messengers--itself.  He recalled the other Madcaps casually mentioning how protective the engineering team aboard Resurrection had been about the coaxial drive and he wondered if Chopra had heard of a Muran’s (or at least Reepchip’s) reputation of getting into everything.  “Working elsewhere in Engineering is fine with me,” he accepted, but he couldn’t keep a slight quiver of curiosity out of his tail or a tiny inquisitive twitch out of his ear.

Carmichael gave a slight smile, “Awesome. The ship’s normal warp drive is in need of some calibrating, if you want to help Ensign Blof.” He pointed over toward a young Benzite who was busy at one of the other stations in engineering.

The chief engineer then returned to what he’d been doing, with Chopra again coming to stand beside him so the two could converse.

Reepchip headed over to where stepstools (used for maintenance) were kept, retrieved one, then headed over to Ensign Blof to help him with the calibration.  It was a simple job, really, and Reepchip was keenly aware that this was practically like getting Carmichael a cup of coffee from the replicator.  He wondered what his friends had to say about the sheer secrecy of the drive, and if they had any theories about how it worked.  It didn’t escape his notice that this was about the furthest spot away from the Coaxial Drive panel that Carmichael could send him at the moment without tossing him out of Engineering altogether.

While Reepchip was with Blof, Chopra said to Carmichael under his voice, “Permission to speak plainly, sir?”

“Granted.”

“I’m worried about Ensign Charatetet being anywhere near engineering. I know some of Reepchip’s professors at Starfleet, and they said that he got into EVERYTHING.  The Academy loaded him down with extra courses just to keep him out of trouble.  Even worse, he had some of the best hearing they’d ever seen. Lt. Darnwell said he could hear the text on a PADD if he listened close enough.”

Lt. Commander Carmichael grunted and glanced over at Reepchip, eyes narrowing at the movement of the Muran’s large ears. Then he said in an equally soft voice.  “Ensign Reepchip Charatetet, state your Carnora rank.  That’s an order.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Muran stiffen.  Reepchip had, indeed, heard him.  “First-Level Shaman Engineer, Sir!” he said, saluting the Lieutenant Commander.

Carmichael winced, Reepchip had likely overheard the entire conversation.  He took his PADD and typed something into it.  Reepchip squeaked a bit.  “Could you please fix the spelling of ‘engineering’, sir?’' he pleaded.  “The sound of the second ‘R’ is just” He flicked an ear repeatedly and hard as if to get a bug off it.  Chopra and Carmichael looked in shock at Reepchip, then Carmochael’s PADD, while Blof looked at Reepchip in confusion.  Reepchip gave a chittering giggle; he’d heard Chopra say that Reepchip could “hear the text on a PADD” and had decided to roll with it.

The two higher-ranking officers relaxed when they saw that the word “Engineering” wasn’t even typed into the PADD, and that the Muran had been messing with them.  Carmichael glared at Reepchip.  “You, Ensign, have an evil sense of humour!”

Carmichael sighed and returned to his work. He didn’t like his orders from Starfleet...they had placed him in an awkward and unusual situation where the Resurrection crew and command staff were concerned. The last two missions had not given anyone much of a chance to poke around engineering, but now that they were experiencing downtime and crew members like Reepchip had time on their hands, it was only a matter of time before someone started asking questions about the coaxial drive -- and that would eventually lead to some kind of conflict on the ship.

Reepchip sensed their unease.  Once he finished helping Ensign Blof (which included going into a Jeffries’ tube with an ease that did nothing to assuage Carmichael’s or Chopra’s worries), he looked at Carmichael.

“Well, sir…  I guess I’d better leave.”  He quietly slipped out of engineering.  As he walked through the ship he came to the holodeck.  Seeing it was unoccupied, he went through the available programs.

He chittered as he saw that Ryramorl had managed to arrange some old-school Carnoric engineering programs to be included.  He chose one that recreated the bridge of a popular freighter, looked through a list of mechanical problems that the program could include, selected the lot, and tried to bury himself in repair practice.

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.26

Tiri finished her morning treadmill run in the ship’s gym and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow as she walked back to her quarters. The ship had come out of warp a short time ago so they were likely approaching Earth.

She was still trying to adjust to the fact she’d been restored to her rank of lieutenant. In all honesty, she was surprised. The Andorian didn’t think she’d see lieutenant again for some time after her demotion prior to her transfer to Shadow Operations. Apparently, she’d paid her penance.

Returning to her quarters she used the sonic shower, dressed in a black and blue Shadow Ops uniform and then headed out to see what the rest of the team was up to.

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2102.26

Jahkar had settled into his position as 2IC in the hours after the meeting and *Resurrection*’s departure from Vulcan. He was already working on a series of training simulations for the team to work on and he’d taken an accounting of the ship’s armory and checked files on what was stored at Ops Base One as he prepared an inventory of what he had to stock the new armory when they moved to the new base. He was also already planning what he could add to the team’s arsenal.

Stepping out of the armory, the big Marine turned and saw Sh’avelith ahead of him. He jogged slightly to catch up and fell in step with her as she strolled down the corridor.

“Congratulations lieutenant,” he told her. “How does it feel?”

“It’s good,” the Andorian replied. “How about you? 2IC...congratulations.”

He nodded, “Thank you. I understand we’re in Earth’s solar system.”

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.01

Tiri nodded, “We’ll get to see our new home. Then, I suppose you’ll have a full workload for us?”

Jahkar smiled, “I have been preparing holo-sims, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“Like I said, a full workload,” Tiri said. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to work on customizing my medic pack for away missions.”

Jahkar looked over at the young Andorian, “Customize? How?”

“The standard pack is pretty inclusive of most things I need, but I’d like to personalize it,” she explained. “Some things I’d like to swap out, a couple things I’d like to add.”

The Marine nodded, “Sounds reasonable. Put together a list of what you have currently, what you’d like to tweak and what you’d like to add or remove.”

“Aye sir,” she said. The two arrived at the mess hall where they ordered up a quick meal and sat down to eat.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Computer core room

Stardate 2103.02

Daryl finished up archiving the last files on the Legion mission. While the Resurrection was under way to the Sol system, he had been filing everything from the last mission. Everything was neatly stored in the correct maps and folders, and the backup sentinel AI now picked up the data and moved it towards an off-ship location. Probably a copy to their new home base and one to the Security Council's cloud storage. Daryl looked for a few moments at the animations in the holo screen which showed the routing and status of the data as his comm badge chirped. "Lazarus to Thompson. Report to my office, immediately," Lazarus sounded agitated. It probably had to do with what happened during and after Admiral Sorvek's funeral service.

"On my way, Captain." He got up, took the datapadd from the console and headed for the Bridge.

When he entered, McCulloch and Beckett were already sitting there. McCulloch was staring into the distance, Beckett was nervous. Lazarus had been standing, gazing outside at the warp patterns emerging out of nothing.

"Lt. Commander Thompson reporting-"

Lazarus turned around. "Sit down, Thompson." He stated before Daryl could finish his sentence. Daryl silenced and sat down in the chair next to McCulloch. Once he sat, Lazarus spoke again.

"Now, I want to know what the hell happened during that funeral." Lazarus roared. "I've got a boot load of complaints from a lot of people. High placed people I might say, who demand that I take care of my disrespectful, disobeying bunch of toddlers that apparently cannot be left alone during a funeral service of the one person who saved most of our asses MORE than ONE time!” Lazarus barked. He had placed his hands on his desk and gazed the three officers in the eyes, his unspoken anger visibly in his own. As his gaze met Beckett's, Cody sunk a bit deeper in his chair.

After a short silence, Daryl spoke up "I didn't have anything to do with what happened with McCulloch and Beckett, sir!"

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Sol Sector

Stardate 2103.02

McCulloch woke up a few hours later sore and stiff. His shoulder ached from the injury he had sustained while running through Vree’s simulation again. He cursed at his stupidity in lowering the safety protocols and reminded himself that he had to be far more careful for the time being.

After getting dressed the Scot left his quarters and attempted to find his way towards the mess hall. As he advanced down the passageway, he silently passed a gaggle of ensigns and lieutenants who were coming off of their watch.

When McCulloch reached a juncture in the passageway, a junior lieutenant was kind enough to point him towards the mess hall. As the Scot rounded the corner, he looked back over his shoulder and saw Captain Lazarus walking quickly. The Scot quickened his pace in an effort to avoid crossing paths with the ship’s commander. When McCulloch looked back over his shoulder a second time, he noted the captain had matched his own pace. The Scot cursed and tried to formulate an escape plan.

Unfortunately, before Will could get away, Lazarus called after him.

"Lieutenant Commander McCulloch! Stop and face me now!” The captain barked.

McCulloch swore again and halted. As he turned to face his superior, Lazarus grabbed the Scot by the arm and guided him down a different hall. “My ready room...now!” He hissed.

As the pair traveled down a passageway, Lazarus kept scowling at the Scot. After a moment of awkward silence, the captain tapped his comm badge. "Lazarus to Thompson. Report in my office, immediately"

As they neared the bridge, Beckett rounded the corner and nearly collided with the pair.

“You!” Lazarus bellowed as he pointed a finger at the confused lieutenant. McCulloch honestly believed that Lazarus was going to cuff Cody. Beckett sheepishly fell into line and followed McCulloch and Lazarus as they entered the bridge and passed into the captain’s ready room.

“Sit!” Lazarus ordered as he pointed to a pair of chairs. As he continued around his desk the captain picked up no less than five padds and tossed them at the pair.

“These contain all the complaints I received about you two from officers, dignitaries and civilians at the funeral.”

“Oh crap.” McCulloch muttered.

“Yes, oh crap.” The Captain repeated.

“Sir, what do you want to know?” Beckett asked cautiously.

“Where should I begin?” Lazarus demanded. “Should I start with Mr. Beckett being molested during Sorvek’s funeral service or perhaps we should start with Mr. McCulloch’s former executive assistant literally vomiting on him inside a vulcan bar.”

"I honestly don’t don’t know what you are talking about Sir. We…” The Scot lied before the captain cut him off.

“Unacceptable!” Lazarus boomed before coming out from behind his desk and looming over the pair. “Mr. Beckett, show me your neck!”

Cody sheepishly unzipped the top of his uniform and pulled the turtleneck away from his throat, revealing a rather large hickey. Lazarus merely grumbled in disgust. In response, Cody pointed towards the Scot and blurted out “You should see the bruise on his neck.”

“Oh? Care to share Mr. McCulloch?” Lazarus demanded. Quietly the Scot opened his uniform to reveal his black and blue throat. Lazarus snorted in contempt. “Let me guess, you were snuggling with some young lass as well?”

“Ex-wife sir.” McCulloch replied in a calm tone.

The Captain did a double take. “Excuse me?”

Admittedly, McCulloch was unsure if he should be afraid of Lazarus or laughing out loud. After suppressing an urge to chuckle, he answered the captain. “Ex wife sir. We crossed paths in an alleyway and proceeded to kick my ass.”

“Victoria Smith kicked your ass?" Lazarus asked, somewhat confused. He never knew Smith had it in her to be a violent person.

“She certainly did. She's had some training.” Beckett interjected.

“I agree.” McCulloch agreed as he directed the conversation away from himself. “She may have learned a thing or two on the Attenborough. I actually ran into her twice while on Vulcan. I don't know if it was on purpose or-”

“Enough!” Lazarus barked loudly.

Suddenly, Thompson entered the ready room.

McCulloch stared into the distance, Beckett was nervous. Lazarus had been standing, gazing outside at the warp patterns emerging out of nothing.

"Lt. Commander Thompson reporting-"

Lazarus turned around. "Sit down, Thompson." He stated before Daryl could finish his sentence. Daryl silenced and sat down in the chair next to McCulloch. Once he sat, Lazarus spoke again.

"Now, I want to know what the hell happened during that funeral" Lazarus roared. "I've got a boot load of complaints from a lot of people. High placed people I might say, who demand that I take care of my disrespectful, disobeying bunch of toddlers that apparently cannot be left alone during a funeral service of the one person whom saved most of our asses MORE than ONE time!" Lazarus barked. He had placed his hands on his desk and gazed the three officers in the eyes, his unspoken anger visibly in his own. As his gaze met Beckett's, Cody sunk a bit deeper in his chair.

After a short silence, Daryl spoke up "I didn't have anything to do with what happened with McCulloch and Beckett, sir! "

Beckett whimpered, McCulloch turned towards Thompson, smirked  and quickly whispered “You know what they say about snitches Thompson.”

Admittedly he had no ill will towards Thompson and technically he was right, Sarah Pickering and Victoria Smith were Beckett and McCulloch’s problems. Nevertheless, he was not going to let the Lieutenant Commander’s announcement go unanswered.

“Thompson was bullied by a Bajoran civilian.” McCulloch announced.

“Lt. Commander McCulloch got his ass kicked by his wife!” Thompson retorted.

“Ex-wife.” Beckett corrected.

“Shut up, Beckett.” McCulloch hissed.

Lazarus banged the desk a second time and coldly glared at the three officers. Even McCulloch realized just how angry Lazarus was.

“I am going to give you one more opportunity to explain to me what happened.” The captain demanded through his teeth.

The Scot sighed and raised his hands as if surrendering. He then began to explain the entire day’s events, from his interaction with his ex-wife to his former executive assistant mauling Beckett in an effort to make the Scot jealous. McCulloch even included the bar incident with Victoria visually recording Sarah vomiting all over him and forwarding it to Vree.

Lazarus stared at McCulloch in disbelief. “Do you give off some sort of pheromone that sends the opposite sex into an angry or drunken tizzy?”

“I literally asked him that yesterday.” Thompson announced.

“He did ask me.” McCulloch conceded.

“I heard it.” Beckett admitted.

“So Commander Smith still thinks you are a jack-ass?” Lazarus asked McCulloch.

“Yes sir.”

“Wonderful!” the captain announced with a slight smile. “Because her transfer request to take command of the combat medical team assigned to our station was reactivated and has been approved. She arrives within the next sixty days. And I have a feeling she and I are going to get along quite well with you here.”

McCulloch groaned as Thompson started to laugh. After a moment of awkward silence, the Scot looked at Lazarus. “Well sir, I think some of us may admit we misbehaved badly at the funeral. What are your plans for us sir?”

Lazarus rolled his eyes and gave a deep sigh before he looked around at the three, “There’s a shore leave coming up in about 30 days.

“McCulloch, you weren’t going anyway. You need to spend more time reacclimating to Starfleet and Shadow Operations, but you two. I have half a mind to cancel shore leave for the both of you.”

Beckett and Thompson looked at each other and then they looked back to the captain, pleading looks on both their faces.

Lazarus addressed Beckett first. “Lieutenant, how the hell did you get dragged into this situation? You are a SO member, for f&^^&& sake. And you can’t handle an overzealous woman?”

“Overly jealous you mean,” Thompson mumbled, snickering.

“Put a sock in it, Thompson” Lazarus growled without looking away from Beckett, who was, seeing the normal sheer size of the New Zealander, becoming pretty small in his chair.

“I...I...I don’t know...I just got carried away...I mean...she was kind of mesmerizing.” Beckett stammered, a sheepish grin on his face. Lazarus looked at Beckett, shaking his head, closing his eyes shortly to cope with the stupidity of his officer. He exhaled deeply and continued.

“Exactly for that purpose, you were chosen to be a part of SO,” Lazarus spat. “To be physically and mentally hardened, to not be ‘mesmerized’ by the first good looking, ass wiggling, eye fluttering female species in front of you! " Once more Lazarus exhaled.

“However, I’m going to be lenient on the three of you,” Lazarus grumbled. “There are others obviously involved in this and some of them are culpable for what happened. For your roles in these incidents, you will each be up an hour earlier than the rest of the team daily for a month. You’ll complete 60 minutes of Jahkar’s Ironman Triathlon training simulation."

Will checked himself from openly complaining at the punishment as he knew it was deserved. Nevertheless, he knew that between Vree’s mandatory simulations, his self-imposed simulations and Jahkar’s Ironman training there would be plenty of opportunity for the Scot to vomit.

Thompson saw the look on McCulloch's face and grinned, knowing Jahkar would already get the best of them with his regular sims. "You're toast, Will"

McCulloch looked at Daryl and grimaced.

“McCulloch...you and Victoria better sort this stuff out,” Lazarus told Will. “One incident...just one...and I’m going to reconsider your posting here and she’s out automatically. I’ll make that clear to her when she arrives. Am I clear to everyone?”

“Understood sir.” McCulloch instinctively replied before continuing. “Permission to speak sir?”

Lazarus studied the Scot for a moment before nodding in the affirmative. Will looked over at Beckett and then Thompson and then addressed the Captain.

“Sir, I understand why you need to speak with Victoria, but I would only ask that you please understand where she is coming from.”

The *Resurrection*’s captain eyed Will suspiciously for a moment. “McCulloch, are you asking that I go easy on Commander Smith? I don’t understand, you just disclosed to me how she assaulted you on Vulcan.”

“After everything I put her through, I’m surprised she didn’t gut me.”

“She may still.” Thompson noted.

“Perhaps. But I will try to work it out and ensure our … relationship .... does not interfere with our duties. Just don’t punish her for my sins.”

Lazarus gritted his teeth as he glared across the desk at McCulloch, “She’s a professional. She needs to act like one. The s%&# between you two has no place here. You two want to settle something, do it on your offtime and away from Starfleet and Shadow Operations. Either of you can’t act professional on this ship, on the station we’ll be cohabitating aboard and during missions, you’ll be out on your asses.”

He looked around at the three and finally barked, “I’m done. I’m done giving permission to speak. Now get out of my Ready Room and find something to do that doesn’t involve alcohol or women. GO!"

Beckett got up and moved along with McCulloch to the door, but Daryl stayed in his seat. "Didn't you hear me Thompson? Get out! " Lazarus bristled.

"Sir, I'm sorry but I have yet another matter I need to discuss."

Lazarus looked at him and scoffed "Fine. Spit it out. I don't have all day."

McCulloch and Beckett stopped in their tracks as the switch from Daryl getting so serious was strange. Also, McCulloch remembered Thompson to look like he'd seen a ghost, so his curiosity was sparked...Daryl took the padd he had carried with him out of a pocket, made. A few gestures, and a recording of what his AI had been recording on Vulcan was shown. The image was shaky, but a big man was shown running in front, as if he was being chased by the recorder of the scene.

Lazarus raised an eyebrow, "What is this?"

Daryl cleared his throat, "I saw this man and thought I recognized him from Starbase 61. He looked very familiar. When he saw me he fled. In that split second I decided to follow him, and..."

The recording showed the man running around a corner, disappearing shortly. As the recording continued, the man was shown again, full face, and Daryl stopped the recording with a gesture.

"My gut feeling was right," Daryl said. "I saw Gregory Durham."

Lazarus looked in disbelief at the still recording and recognized the face of the former Shadow Ops officer, also Daryl Thompsons former best friend.

Quentin Lazarus thought he was seeing a ghost. Stranger things had happened, and his mind immediately began to register several possibilities.

“Computer, identify individual pictured on Commander Thompson’s PADD,” he said. The computer chirped and then brought up a file which hovered about his desk. The file belonged to a Shadow Ops agent who died some time ago.

“Durham, Gregory, Lieutenant,” the computer said. “Killed in the line of duty Stardate….”

“Computer, end identification,” Lazarus muttered. “You and I both know Greg Durham is dead. That said, I see three possible explanations. One, that is a clone, just like the way you were cloned and replaced.”

Saying that, Lazarus knew it immediately opened the door to the possibility a Durham cloned had died and the real Durham was out there somewhere -- just as it had been with Thompson. After a brief pause, Lazarus continued, “That’s Durham, but he time traveled to get here.”

The captain realized that wasn’t a likely scenario because the Durham pictured was older, so did not likely come from the past.

Lazarus exhaled deeply as he considered the next possibility. He looked up at Daryl and grimaced, “The third possibility is probably the most likely scenario, and probably is the worst. Are you familiar with the place called the Mirror Universe? They touch upon it in Starfleet Academy history, but the real stories go much deeper than the textbooks.”

Daryl gathered his thoughts for a few moments, then he looked at Lazarus, who seemed to have calmed down after his tantrum against him and Beckett and McCulloch. “Yes, I heard and read about it. From the infinite universes, ours and the mirror universe seem like an identical twin, like they have a connection of sorts. Their quantum signatures are a close match, yet unique. But still a lot is unknown why these universes and their inhabitants collide regularly." Daryl gazed into the distance for a few moments, then he refocused on Lazarus. "I tried to understand the quantum physics of how multiverses work at the Academy. I studied them for a while. In the end, I gave up…but why do you think this Durham is from this Mirror universe? Isn't it possible he is still alive in this universe? Excluding the clones that is?" Daryl sounded hopeful, yet he knew the Durham in this universe was dead. The thought of meeting Durham from the mirror universe made him feel uneasy.

“It’s unlikely Greg Durham is alive…in this universe,” Lazarus said. “Is it possible…maybe. But I find it to be very unlikely.

Lazarus sighed, “Before you go running off on some damned fools’ errand to search for this ghost-Durham, keep in mind that this individual is trying to get your attention. It could very well be a trap. Other options that just came to mind are Changelings and, having just dealt with Legion and the doppelganger situation we encountered there, it could be related to Jack Dark somehow. He did try to enlist you into his cause, did he not?”

The captain waved Thompson off, “Thank you for sharing this information. I’ll discuss it with Vree and we’ll discuss it again. Dismissed.”

Commander Mayla Vree

Spacedock, Earth orbit

Stardate 2103.02

Earth's Spacedock NC-7011S was one of the largest starbases ever built in the Federation, 4600 meters at the beam. In operation since the early days of Admiral James Kirk's career, its 130 year service record included countless maiden voyages of prominent starships, prototype starships, advanced technological implementations, training facilities for Starfleet cadets, and hosted millions of policy making conferences for the Federation. Spacedock was spared destruction during the Dominion War when the Breen attacked Starfleet Command, but took heavy damage. Starfleet took the opportunity to remodel and update the entire station for the next five years.

The *Resurrection* approached slowly on the dark side and positioned itself into the queue to dock inside the large space station in synchronous orbit. Mayla got up from the Helm station when docking control finally took over the helm of the ship to guide it to its designated berth. Lieutenant Commander Revu sat down and reconfigured the console with his templates.

"It's been a long time since I've been here," he said, just as the Alpha shift started coming onto the bridge just as they cleared the space doors.

Mayla nodded in agreement. She hadn't been back in a long time either. "Thank you for letting me take the helm." She almost admitted that it was fun. Something to take her mind off of recent events.

Then she heard a sudden commotion inside Lazarus' office. It sounded like a lot of yelling, arguing, and several bangs. Someone was receiving the wrath of Lazarus. The rest of the bridge crew heard it too. In her eyes, she quickly queried the whereabouts of Phoenix Squad, and she didn't like what she saw.

"Somebody is getting a thrashing," Revu said. He turned to glance at Mayla, but she had already made her way to stand beside the door to Lazarus' office. Waiting.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Admiral Ian MacLeod

*USS Resurrection* Holodeck

Stardate 2103.03

Jammed cams, chipped gears, worn geneva drives, bent rods… the simulated bridge of some Carnora ship needed a virtual overhaul.  The only thing that wasn’t selected on this repair sim were the bones of a recently dead Olvern to be incorporated into the ship; that was very much an Olvern thing, and Reepchip--being a Muran--found it a bit ghoulish, so he’d left all the bones out.

Mechanical parts were carefully laid out in order, while Reepchip was in a control console, trying to figure out why one of the control knobs wasn’t controlling anything.  Anyone could see that this simulation was rated completely safe and could walk right in, but if they did so their ears would be assaulted by Reepchip’s angry chittering.

MacLeod entered the holodeck and found Reepchip was running some sort of Carnora engineering simulation. He could hear the chittering and looked around to find out where he was. He observed the small Carnora almost completely inside a console, only the tip of his tail sticking out.

“Ensign,” the admiral called. “Everything alright here?”

Reepchip crawled out from the console, covered in grime and holding a gear bent at a 45 degree angle and almost cracked in half. Seeing the Admiral, he immediately saluted.  “Sir! Yes everything’s all right; I just set the repair level to ‘Drunken Joyride With Pakleds,’ that’s all.”

Even someone who wasn’t used to the Carnora’s engineering could see that the mechanics of this ship were badly damaged.  “I was going to help out in the actual engineering of the ship, but the engineers really didn’t want me down there.”

Lt. Commander Carmichael had been a bit worried about the MadCaps being anywhere near the Coaxial Drive. Lieutenant Chopra, who knew the MadCaps’ reputation, was even less at ease. If there was anyone who’d be itching to figure out how it worked, it was them.

MacLeod nodded, “Yes, well, rest assured ensign, I am aware of the shroud of secrecy down in engineering. It’s something I intend to find out more about. I was going to see about running one of my sim, hunting in the Scottish countryside, but I’ll let you finish what you were doing. Carry on.”

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Sol Sector

Stardate 2103.03

McCulloch, and Beckett snapped to attention, spun around and started to leave Lazarus’ ready room. As they approached the doorway, Beckett whispered, “No alcohol or women? Where is the fun in that?”

“Look on the brightside,” McCulloch quietly responded, “at least Jahkar or Vree didn’t hear this dressing down.”

Beckett nodded in agreement.

As the pair exited the ready room, McCulloch started to turn right and physically collided with Commander Vree, who was waiting outside for the three men.

McCulloch blinked twice, sighed and blurted out “Oh...fudge…”

Commander Mayla Vree

Bridge, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.03

"Please tell me he was yelling at someone else on a comm monitor." Mayla said as she folded her arms across her chest.

"We wish," Beckett said.

Mayla stiffened lightly and her eyes darted to each of the duo. "Where's Thompson?"

Both men shook their heads. But to make things even more uncomfortable, the three of them just stood there and waited for Thompson to come out. When he finally did, she shook her head and gestured for them to follow her. The three became even more deflated as it didn't take a genius to figure out Lazarus must have just updated their team leader with what just happened.

She led them straight to the cargo bay and with a gait that defied anyone to get in her way as she didn't stop or pause once. People made a hole when they saw her storming down the companionway in the lead straight into the small cargo bay. It didn't matter if it was empty or not, by the time they entered, anyone inside who saw them immediately vacated the premises.

Before the door even closed behind them, she whirled around and glared at them. "I can understand what happens on your own time is your business. But when it happens during an official event, you blatantly show disrespect to those hosting and attending." She started pacing back and forth to keep her mind straight. "What were you thinking of? This was Sorvek's funeral. And you used that event to fraternize?"

"It wasn't my fault," Thompson said weakly.

She came to a stop in front of McCulloch. "I know what you've gone through, and I also know what Victoria has gone through. I'll talk to her about her behavior before Lazarus takes her head off. I'll make it clear to her that any further infractions between the two of you will result in immediate expulsion. You've been here before, and you know how deep Lazarus' wrath can be."

McCulloch cocked his head slightly in surprise at Vree’s gesture. Once again, she had an opportunity to literally crush him and drum him out. Instead, she let him go with a stern warning. He had to respect her approach to command and instinctively knew he had better give her the respect and courtesy she demanded.

“I understand the Captain’s wrath and you have my word I will not have any further misconduct or misdeeds from me, sir.” The Scot answered.

“Good. Any questions Lieutenant Commander?” Vree inquired.

“You’ll talk to Victoria, so she stays off of Lazarus’ radar screen?” Will asked. There was a tone of both sincerity and concern in his voice. From McCulloch’s perspective Vree appeared caught off guard by the question. She studied McCulloch for a moment, trying to gauge him. He was unsure why he made the request on behalf of his ex-wife, especially in light of her literally throat punching him and threatening to ruin his career, but he did.

"I'm going to talk to her about being a Starfleet officer, the same talk I just had with you. She may be a full commander, but I have seniority. And I will talk to her with that foremost in my mind."

She took a step back and looked at Thompson. "And you. I knew the other Daryl Thompson, and he had a similar situation just like this. Don't go down that path. We both know where that led to. You are a lieutenant commander now. Toe the line and make the greatest effort to be an officer any subordinate can look for leadership. Or just say the word and I'll send you back to the Academy to get your head centered on what being an officer means. I need you here, in this team, as a productive team member we can all rely on you on and off the field." She took a deep breath and let it out. "These are your teammates, and you just watched the whole thing happen. Be mindful of the consequences. Lazarus expects more from an officer."

Daryl looked at the floor, biting his lip. Even though he wasn’t directly involved in what had happened, Daryl indeed didn’t do anything to stop the, still hilarious and very entertaining, soap that had unfolded upfront, during, and after the funeral. Vree was right, he should have intervened in the whole situation. Yet, at this moment, the only thing he could think of was Durham. Finally, he looked up at Vree.

“I am sorry I disappointed you. I will make sure it won’t happen again.”

Vree looked at him, noting the slight touch of distraction and hesitation in his voice. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Not really,“ Daryl replied.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I saw a ghost. A shadow from the past…” Daryl replied. He felt uneasy, his eyes darting from McCulloch to Beckett and back to Vree.

“You need to be more specific,” Vree said.

“I saw Gregory Durham when I was on Vulcan.“ Daryl said.

Mayla paused for a moment. "Durham is dead."

"I know," Thompson said with a bit of uncertainty. "At least that's what we know."

"I know for certain that the Durham from our universe is dead. Clone or not."

"Or mirror universe."

Mayla's eyes changed at the mention of the mirror universe. In her eyes, she quickly accessed Bravo Squad's last report of their foray into the Mirror Universe. They had spent 16 months fighting alongside the Terran Resistance, but there was no mention of a mirror Durham. Or Thompson.

"We'll talk about this later." She said. She needed to do some research before freely talking about this to anyone. She turned back to the matter at hand. With just a look to Beckett, who couldn't meet her eyes, it was more than all he needed after the dressing down from the master of this vessel. Mayla took a few steps back and looked at the three of them.

"Beckett and Thompson, you will join McCulloch on all of his extracurricular sims. You'll work so hard you'll be too tired to think about anything else. We're at Spacedock now and all three of you won't be leaving the ship. You'll stay right here for the duration. We don't need you to get into any more trouble, especially here. Jahkar will review your sims and file regular reports to me on your progress. And I do expect progress."

"Everyday?"

"Until you come to realize we are not at the Academy or the lower decks. We're supposed to be better than Starfleet officers. I expect you to meet that expectation so the Security Council won't ever have any reason to shut us down." She looked at her chronometer just as the room suddenly shuddered against the docking collar. "I'll inform Jahkar so he can set up a regimen. Please think about what I've said. I need three Shadow operatives. Not three cadets. Dismissed."

Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Sol Sector

Stardate 2103.04

McCulloch, Thompson and Beckett instinctively spun around and started to leave the cargo bay. As they approached the exit, the Scot fell in line with Thompson. A “mirror universe” Gregory Durham sent a chill down his spine. Not because he knew Gregory...he didn’t. It frightened McCulloch that another version of himself, one that was either far worse or better, existed. The Scot looked over at Thompson. “So, what makes you think you saw a mirror universe version of Durham?"

Back to top

## S3, E3, Act 3: At Spacedock (extended edition)

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.04

With his match with Ensign Toth over (a quick drop by the Medical Bay revealed that neither had suffered any actual hurt at all) Ryramorl now had other business--namely, if they were getting some down time, perhaps he could return to Carnor to offer his apologies to his great-uncle.

He sought out Commander Vree. When he found her coming out of the cargo bay, he saluted. “Commander, during our down time, I would like to briefly return to Carnor. I need to apologize to my great-uncle, for letting his bones get destroyed so soon and so easily.”

"Is it absolutely necessary for you to go? Carnora isn't exactly just in the next sector." Vree didn't even give a glance at McCulloch, Thompson, or Beckett as they walked away without a word.

“Yes,” he said adamantly.  “It was one thing to miss the ceremony of his passing by being on a Long Hunt. It is one thing to let bones be destroyed; accidents happen in war.  But to do both!  To the one who raised me after my parents were killed. The one loaned me the name Ryramorl, no less!” He saw the look on Mayla’s face and realized just how loud his voice was getting.  With an effort, he calmed himself down. “I must make amends to him,” he said after a moment. “And it must be done on the Ra’yral plains. First, and most importantly, it is presumptuous in the extreme to expect his ghost to search for me. Second, the sacrifice of an animal as a burnt offering is seen as barbaric in the United Federation of Planets, and I do not need the questions of others on the Resurrection.”

"Well, the Captain has just informed me we'll be leaving here for Umbra Prime the day after tomorrow. There's no way you can get to Carnor and back in that time. The next time we have an extended shore leave, you can go at that point. But I still have to clear it with the Captain first. But under those circumstances, I think it'll be alright."

“Very well,” said Ryramorl and saluted. “If it must be, I shall pray to him and apologise, then at the first shore leave, I shall make all haste to Carnor.”

Vree nodded. "Now if you would excuse me, I need to talk with Colonel Jahkar."

Ryramorl saluted and stepped aside.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection* at Spacedock

Stardate 2103.05

Reepchip figured out what was wrong with the knob, got it working, and, with his extensive toolbox of spare parts, started putting the assembly back together.  He was half-way through when Lt. Commander Carmichael--who’d seen the Holodeck was in use, but was flagged as anyone being welcome to enter--stepped in to one of the most surreal things he’d seen in his life.

This was, undoubtedly, the bridge of some manner of spacecraft, but unlike one he’d ever seen.  The open panels revealed the intricate clockwork machinery, the plethora of gears, cams, geneva mechanisms, governors, rods, dials, levers, and so on.  Weird inscriptions and diagrams covered almost every surface, though it wasn’t clear what they meant.   Some diagrams of what looked like star symbols were within pictures of plants or animals, suggesting these were depictions of constellations--but what astrological imagery was doing on a spacecraft was a mystery.

In the middle of it all, with a pocket full of tools and a pelt full of grime was none other than Ensign Reepchip Charatetet, carefully placing a camshaft into place.

“...this is a spaceship!?” asked Carmichael in disbelief.

Admiral MacLeod looked at Carmichael.  “This?  This is tame.  I’ve been aboard their actual ships.”

Reepchip turned and saluted with a cheery grin.  “Sir!  Welcome aboard the *CPSS Screw You Pakleds*, because there’s nothin’ but a sack of air they can salvage from it, and we’ll keep the sack, thank you.”

Carmichael looked around and nodded, “Very...old school. But I like it. Sorry, if I’m butting in on something.”

MacLeod smiled, “Not at all, commander. I stumbled onto Ensign Charatetet here just as you did. It seems this is how he deals with frustration in his daily comings and goings.”

The Resurrection engineer nodded, “So, Reepchip is having a frustrating day?” His mind raced back to earlier in engineering and the realization of what was going on here sank in. Tommy offered the two a smile and turned toward the door.

“I’ll come back later,” Carmichael said, starting toward the door.

“Commander,” MacLeod said in a firm voice. “I haven’t dismissed you. Stay and let’s hear the ensign out.”

Reepchip looked at Lt. Commander Carmichael, and knew he had to confess everything.  “Yes, I am frustrated,” he said, saluting both officers again.  “I am truly most at home in an engineering position, especially when I have to Measure The Path Up The Endless Hill.  A love of intricate workings is one of the Gifts the Messengers gave specifically to the Murans, and that’s why most Carnora engineers are Murans--that, and we can get into places other Carnora can’t.  Even if the Federation’s ships don’t have such…mechanical workings as our own, I enjoy working on them; especially with having to figure out electronics, how gelpacks work…”

“Wait…  Carnora ships don’t have electronics?” asked Carmichael.

Reepchip shook his head.  “It is a long story, but our race was given space travel far too early.”

Carmichael frowned, “Look, if this is about earlier in engineering...I know you’d love to be all over that part of the ship, crawling in the Jeffries Tubes and looking into every corner of the compartment and the coaxial drive. I get it. I’m fascinated with all things engineering myself. But Resurrection’s coaxial drive...my team and I have been with it from the beginning and I’m very protective over it.”

MacLeod’s reaction was suddenly dark as he stood up straight and glared at Carmichael, ‘Oh, you’re not the only one protective over that drive. I received orders from Starfleet Command, just as Sorvek did before me apparently, that you come along as part of the package with the coaxial drive and you and your team are the only ones allowed to see it, work on it and have any knowledge of exactly how it works.”

Tommy looked down at the deck below, “Yes sir. Those are the orders. Keeping the rest of the crew away from the drive wasn’t hard on the Andorian and Klingon missions…”

“Everyone was too busy?” MacLeod surmised.

Tommy nodded, “I figured this day would come. Curiosity was bound to lead to someone nosing around engineering.”

“You even kept the Mad Caps at bay while they were aboard,” MacLeod said. “I’ve gone back over their reports and logs. They were shooed out of engineering more than once.”

“Admiral, it’s not my call,” he said. “Starfleet Command, Admiral Janeway and now Clancy. I can’t allow access to the drive, even to you and Captain Lazarus.”

MacLeod put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I understand, son. Orders are orders. I have the same orders. The drive is off-limits. Details are on a need to know basis….”

“And you don’t need to know,” Carmichael added. “I’m sorry, admiral.”

MacLeod nodded, “I get it. I just hope Clancy and the folks over at Starfleet R&D understand that if something were to happen to you and your team, we’d have no one aboard who knows how that thing works.”

“I know.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” he said. “I’ll be taking it up with Admiral Clancy when we meet tomorrow.”

“Aye sir,” Tommy replied. He looked to Reepchip, “Like I said earlier, ensign, you’re welcome in any other part of engineering...just not around the coaxial drive.”

Reepchip nodded.  “Yes, sir,” he said.  He hadn’t told either officer that the Madcaps had, in fact, been wanting to figure out how the coaxial drive actually worked--even if it meant the extra challenge of having to figure it out without ever having access to the drive.  Hacking into the ship’s computer would, of course, be cheating.

Tommy pondered a bit.  “Admiral MacLeod said that this was tame compared to their real ships…” he said.

Reepchip chittered.  “This is an Olvern ship,” he said.  “Their funeral practices tend to turn their ships into ossuaries.  I can reset the simulation so you can see what it looks like, if you want--but it takes some getting used to.”

Carmichael and MacLeod both looked at one another, then to Reepchip and shook their heads.

“Thanks, but no,” MacLeod said.

“I’m good,” Tommy responded.

MacLeod turned and started toward the door, “Commander, I’d like you to join me at my meeting tomorrow with Clancy. Meet me in the transporter room at 0900.”

“Yes sir,” he said as MacLeod walked out. He looked back at Reepchip and smiled, “Sorry if I made you feel left out. If this matter is ever resolved with Starfleet, I’ll welcome you into engineering with open arms.”

Carmichael then turned and exited the holodeck…

Reepchip saluted the two officers goodbye, then went back to work on the ship.  As he did so, he wondered what they’d have said if they’d come in while he was in the middle of the rituals of renewing the Inscriptions--which were a total mess right now.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.05

Daryl looked at McCulloch. "I'm pretty sure Greg isn't alive anymore. Jaeger killed him. The only chance would be a clone. And Kyril Vree made sure all of them were taken out. So the only option would be a Durham from the Mirrorverse. "

A short silence fell, as they both pondered about that fact

Then McCulloch spoke again "Why? Say, it is Durham from that mirror universe. Why does he show up here? It's not that it's easy to travel between universes. So either he would be here because of some freak accident, or he is here on purpose. "

"I followed up to that conclusion too," Daryl replied.

"What could that be?"

Daryl shrugged. "I don't know Will. Lazarus was pretty clear I shouldn't be chasing this. He would discuss the matter with Vree and inform later. And since we're more or less grounded, I'm gonna focus on the training sims for now."

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.06

Will nodded in understanding as he reflected upon Daryl’s theory. After a moment of silence, he looked towards his fellow operative. “If you want to see if there is some corroborative evidence to back up your theory, I am willing to assist you.”

“How?” Daryl countered. “Lazarus told me to drop the issue for now.”

“He told YOU not to chase the issue.” McCulloch stressed. “He didn’t say a third party couldn’t sniff around to confirm this person’s identity and whether he was in fact the mirror universe version of Durham.”

“Will, there is no way in hell Lazarus is going to let you near this matter either.”

“When I said ‘third party’ I wasn’t referring to myself.”

“What do you mean then?” Daryl pressed.

“When the time comes and you’re ready to look into the matter further, let me know. I’ll reach out to my sources to see if they can look into the matter for you.” McCulloch answered cryptically.

The pair rounded a corner and continued walking towards their quarters. As they passed other crewmen, Daryl instinctively lowered his voice.

“Inverness?” He asked.

“Perhaps. Wenn could be of valuable assistance to you but I have a few other contacts outside of Inverness that I established during my years as a … free agent.”

“Free agent? I’m not sure I want to know.” Thompson quipped.

“Someday I’ll talk about it but obviously not now. But think it over. If you want to explore the issue further, I am ready to assist.”

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.08

Daryl pondered about McCulloch’s offer. It was tempting to try and find out more about this matter, but Daryl knew better than to go against Lazarus’ orders. Even though he wouldn’t conduct anything himself, the very fact someone nosing around for Information about Durham could be traced back to him or McCulloch, and that was enough for Lazarus to kick them both out of Shadow Operations.

As they reached their quarters, Daryl gestured to McCulloch to follow him. He walked inside his quarters and McCulloch followed.

Out of the small bathroom the sound of someone showering was audible. The normal transparent glass door was covered in condensed steam. McCulloch raised his eyebrow, as he looked at Thompson.

“Two things: One: Who the hell is in your shower and two, why don’t you have a sonic shower like everyone else?”

Thompson grinned. “I hate sonic showers. So I had a normal shower installed.”

McCulloch nodded slowly, pondering about that thought. “And the other thing?” Thompson grinned even wider “You’ll find out in a moment.”

“Probably some young female ensign, right ?” McCulloch quipped, as the door opened and Darva came out wearing none but a towel. McCulloch's jaw dropped practically to the floor.

“Hi hun,“ she said to Daryl as she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek “Congrats on your promotion to Lt. Commander.”

“Thanks love” Daryl said, with an even broader grin as he looked at McCulloch’s face. “May I introduce you to our new team member William McCulloch?”

Darva looked at McCulloch who needed a second to regain his composure as he recognized Daryl’s partner as the Chief of Security on the *Resurrection*. He cleared his throat “Nice to meet you ma’am.”

Darva nodded politely towards McCulloch “Nice to meet you too, Lt Commander McCulloch,” then she winked at Daryl and asked “Celebrate later?” Daryl nodded, as she went her way, back into the bathroom after she grabbed a fresh uniform from the replicator.

“So, about Durham, what can you offer me?“ Daryl asked.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.08

Will ignored the question as he watched Darva stroll back into the bathroom. The woman was simply stunning….and wet. McCulloch momentarily wondered if he could get a water shower installed in his own quarters, and whether Darva had any sisters...preferably redheads.

“Will?” Thompson asked as he tried to redirect Will’s attention back to his question. The Scot ignored the Lieutenant Commander and instead, found himself suddenly thinking about Victoria. After a moment of reflection, Will finally turned his attention back to Thompson.

“Sorry, I was lost there for a moment.” The Scot announced. “You were saying?”

“Durham, how can you help me?” Daryl asked again.

“Aye, yes.” McCulloch replied. “We should talk with my former coworkers at Inverness, either Wenn or Sarah.”

“Sarah? The one that mauled Beckett? Absolutely not.”

Will nodded in understanding. Sarah’s behavior at Sorvek’s funeral had caused more than enough damage and had resulted in her being placed on an extended vacation from the intelligence firm.

“Then it’s Wenn Hikri.”

“The Bajoran?” Thompson asked, thinking back to the feisty woman he encountered on Vulcan. “Tell me about her.”

“Wenn grew up during the tail end of the Cardassian occupation of Bajor. Prior to joining my firm she had over fifteen years as a code breaker with the Bajoran Intelligence Agency. She is an expert in cyber-security, militarized technology, and intelligence gathering. She also has contacts within several scientific and intelligence circles inside and outside of the Federation.”

Thompson studied McCulloch momentarily before responding. “You think she can help us?”

“She will when you tell her about your theory of Durham and the Mirror Universe.”

“Why?” Daryl asked.

“Because she led an investigation into an incident believed to be linked to the Mirror Universe three years ago.” The Scot answered.

“Go on.” Thompson requested, his eyes narrowing as he studied McCulloch.

Will quickly looked over towards the bathroom to ensure Thompson’s romantic interest was still inside. He then leaned towards Daryl and spoke in a low tone. “Three years ago Inverness was hired by a Deltan to investigate an incident involving his dead daughter. Long story short, the ‘dead daughter’ was believed to have been an operative from the Mirror Universe. I’ll be blunt, it creeped the ever living crap out of me and most of Wenn’s team that participated in the investigation.”

“What happened? What did you find?” Thompson quickly demanded.

“Not much.”

“Not much?” Daryl repeated. “What do you mean not much?”

“The client ran out of money and the investigation ended.” McCulloch conceded. “However, before we closed down the project, Wenn successfully connected to a small network of scientists and military personnel who made it their business to monitor Mirror Universe activity.”

Thompson mulled in silence over what McCulloch had described to him before resuming the conversation.

“Will, do you think you can arrange for me to speak with Wenn?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. It’s only a conversation and if she can’t answer your questions, she may point you to someone who can.”.”

“What do you need to set up this meeting?”

“Get me a secure channel free of prying eyes. Preferably somewhere off of this ship.”

“What do you mean?” Thompson asked.

“I’m under orders not to speak to anyone from Inverness or any of my intelligence contacts if it is about sensitive information I ascertained while serving with Starfleet. If we are caught chatting with Wenn regarding Durham, I may be shown the door.”

Daryl nodded in understanding as the Scot continued.

“On the other hand, $%^& it. If this is important to you and you think you can set up a secure communication that is not traceable back to us or Inverness, I’ll contact Wenn.”

Daryl hesitated. “Well. It is important. But not important enough to put our careers here at stake. Remember, we’re still in hot water, and I bet Lazarus AND Vree are keeping a close eye towards us. And in case you forgot,” Daryl gestured with his head towards the bathroom “She is Head of Security of this ship. If she would find out, she’d bite my head off”. McCulloch seemed to find that image amusing as he grinned. Daryl shook his head. “It’s too risky. Maybe if and when we get on shore leave, we might be able to speak with Wenn. But for now, let’s drop the matter, ok ?”

“Agreed.” McCulloch answered upon further reflection.

Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Earth Spacedock

Stardate 2103.08

After the meeting with Jahkar to discuss the holosim schedule for Thompson, McCulloch, and Beckett, she gave everyone else permission to leave the ship to visit the Concourse in Spacedock. It was probably the most talked about place in the Federation; full of history and diversity of cultures. She hoped they would take this opportunity to visit, and to stay out of trouble. She'd learned through her duty station experience that whenever there was an opportunity to visit a locale, do it. Because you never know when you'll be by that way again.

Mayla decided not to change out of her uniform when she left her quarters. She didn't have to hide who she was here. It had been more than just a few years since her last time at Spacedock, and a visit to the Concourse always gave her a good reminder of the immense size and diversity of the Federation as a whole. Every race could be seen here as Spacedock was sort of a central hub for travel to Earth for a variety of reasons. It also reminded her of what she was fighting to protect.

She made her way to the docking collar of the *Resurrection* and didn't hesitate to walk through the gantry onto the station. Lazarus was giving them two days here at Spacedock while the Resurrection took on cargo before heading to their new station. Their docking berth was out of the way of the usual traffic, so the docking lounge was empty except for a single cleaning bot. She walked to the nearest turbo lift and entered it.

As the turbolift moved, she "remembered" when the Spacedock was still under construction. Janara Vree was just a lieutenant stationed at Utopia Planitia as flight leader for a fast response fighter squadron. Her and two other squadrons of five fighters were primarily responsible for providing protection and support of the all important shipyard. They would also escort parts and sections from the shipyard to be installed into the Spacedock. Her squadron had to have intimate knowledge of its structure and exceptional piloting skills to maneuver gigantic sections to be attached to trusses set up by the engineers.

When the turbolift stopped and the doors opened, a blast of noise hit her before she even stepped out onto the expansiveness of the Concourse. it took her half a minute to take in how much the station had changed in the past 130 years. The enormous space and organized chaos made her recent visit to Starbase 36 look like a visit to a small quiet town. The thoroughfare looked like a bustling city center with people of many races scurrying towards their appointments. Similar to any other standard starbase layout, the Concourse circled the entire station on the outer rim of the primary hull. The 15 kilometer stretch around housed hundreds of shops and restaurants of various types on two of the three levels of the Concourse. With its proximity to Earth below, security was tight. Federation and Starfleet security both had many constant roaming patrols; keeping both the thousands of civilians and Starfleet personnel in line. Any disruption or delinquency here was harshly dealt with.

She looked down the stretch of the wall lined shops and eateries until the curvature of the station's primary hull blocked her view. Looking up to the windowed ceiling that also ran all along the entire length, she could see outside various types of workpods flitting about and incoming ships performing flybys on their way to the queue to enter the bay doors. The sunlight coming into this part of the station always changed with the station's synchronous orbit of Earth. Every side of the station will encounter a sunrise and a sunset every day like on Earth. Then her gaze shifted over to the third uppermost level of the open-air space, amazed at how crowded even the observation level was. All along the top level were primarily embassies, banquet halls, meeting halls, conference rooms, and sporadic public observation lounges where people could just sit around and take their choice of viewing space, Earth, the orbiting moon, or down at the shoppers.

Even the interior airspace was crowded. Antigrav AI delivery drones flew by silently on preset highways in formation and expertly avoided each other to deliver their cargo to various destinations throughout the Concourse including people on the observation lounges. Food deliveries were often delivered to this level. And with the customer's biometrics given to the restaurant at order time for AI position location, one didn't have to stay in a static spot to still receive their order. The drone will seek out the customer starting with their last known location. She laughed when she saw some kids running from one drone in an obvious game of "PaNDOaRA"-Place a New Drone Order and Run Away.

She smiled at the kids' antics as she strolled down the 20-meter-wide space passing by shops that sold souvenirs, gadgets, food, take away foods, clothing, and more things anyone could count or even imagine. She could see the same sort of stores and stalls on the second level, but there were more restaurants, bakeries, nightclubs, replimats, arcades, and emporiums. There was always some variety of product or service for any type of visitor for any occasion regardless of race. There were also storefronts for different types of recreation since it must also cater to the personnel who were working on the station alongside the visitors. Every member planet of the Federation had some sort of presence here. This Concourse could represent what the Federation was as a whole-different races, ideals, values, coming together to share and do business with each other for mutual benefit.

The Concourse was also so long that several transporter gates were installed at every kilometer marker that would transport you to any other gate on the Concourse. Then there were the secured gates that transported to other parts of the station that required a certain amount of security clearance. But Mayla didn't use any of them. She just walked along with the flow of the crowd making note of the different types of stores and eateries she might eventually want to frequent.

Even with the noise from the crowds of people, she suddenly heard a familiar song. Turning around in place to locate it, her eyes tracked the sound like a tricorder until her eyes coincided with the direction her ears were hearing. The singing was coming from hidden speakers of a rather large establishment called Future's Edge Lounge. She made her way to the restaurant and peered in through the large paned window. What she saw made her heart jump a beat and froze her into place. A tight painful knot formed in the middle of her chest as she put a hand against the window to steady herself.

Past the seated dining patrons, on an enclosed stage at the far end of the restaurant was a beautiful Trill woman who looked familiar. She had on a high collared red cloak worn over a white silken tunic with a deep cleavage held closed by a matching red lace. That was paired with a matching short skirt and black high heeled boots. Her hair and makeup were from a decade old style that looked like ink on skin. A faux stylized Trill fox tattoo was decorated on her left cheek. She was singing a familiar song while moving to cute choreography with the sound piped out through several speakers in and outside the restaurant. Beautiful and radiant, she swayed with the music and lyrics Mayla knew the performer had written herself. Mayla leaned her forehead against the window as all of her senses brought a wave of sad and painful memories; memories that beheld her the woman on that stage looked just like her dead adopted mother.

Commander Mayla Vree

Concourse, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.08

Mayla watched and listened until the song ended before her feet finally took her in through the doors of the establishment. Future's Edge seemed to have everything; a restaurant, a bar, private party rooms, and holosuites. Along each side wall on the left and right was a long counter with bar stools in front where at this time of day was scarcely full. Situated in the center of the restaurant in front of the stage and surrounded by a glass partition were dining tables of various sizes to accommodate different sized parties. The lounge was half capacity right now with a diverse group of patrons either dining at a table or drinking at the bar. The setting felt so reminiscent to her as seemingly out of habit she took a familiar seat on a barstool at the end of the bar on the right that gave her an unobstructed view of the stage. The performer who looked just like Linsayla Savien suddenly rezzed out and reappeared in a new costume as a new song began. It was now obvious to Mayla that it was only a holographic reproduction of one of her mother's many performances.

As Mayla ordered a chilled jumja juice from the bartender, she propped an elbow on the counter and watched as if mesmerized at the impressive high-resolution accuracy of the holographic program. It not only mimicked Linsayla's style of performance clothing, but also her mannerisms. After a while, Mayla realized these weren't copycats or reproductions. These were holographic recordings of Linsayla's actual performances. It just made the performance that much more impactful to her heart.

"Why can't I sleep?

Why does the night end?

I don't want anything, even tomorrow,

the future without you.

Why am I smiling?

Why so, though I'm feeling lonely?

Nobody knows that I really just

want you to be by my side.

Even the despair becomes the light.

Though an endless rain continues to fall.

Even the despair becomes the light.

A sad rain throws a rainbow

far far away.

We shall never meet again,

but I want not to forget you forever.

If the dream continues,

I wish I never wake from it.

Why am I smiling?

Why so, though I'm feeling lonely?

Nobody knows that I really just

want to see you. That's all.

Even the despair becomes the light.

Though an endless rain continues to fall.

Even the despair becomes the light.

A sad rain throws a rainbow

even now.

An endless rain fills my heart

forever."\*

Mayla let out a sigh as the lyrics brought back a different memory that warmed the sentimental side of her psyche. But in the end, it always left her yearning for her motherly embrace. There was a part of her that tried to suppress the emotions, but the memories battering her senses pushed the suppression aside. As if mocking her, this was Linsayla's song about grief, the ache of loss, and lingering melancholy.

A large Yridian worker lumbered over near her behind the bar and tapped a few drink orders into a terminal. She recognized him although she hadn't seen him in nearly 20 years. He was more rotund than the last time she saw him, but other than that, the man hadn't changed much physically. Even his style of clothing hadn't changed, just the colors. His bald head had lost its hair long ago, leaving behind the wrinkled skin beneath it. He looked like a rodent with slightly long pointed ears that spanned nearly the entire height of his head. A yridian even looked untrustworthy with his small beady eyes and nose.

Even though, it was common knowledge Yridians were normally untrustworthy and devious; always in the circles of smugglers and shady dealings. But many were also merchants who ran honest looking businesses; at least outwardly. This Yridian she knew from childhood was one of the rare Yridians she had ever encountered. He was honest and heartwarming; not words usually associated with a Yridian. But she had no doubt he had a few fingers in dealings stereotypical of his race. Not too unlike a Ferengi. When she was with him back then, she had occasionally seen and heard his 'other' side when dealing with the less scrupulous...business people.

"Verad?" she called out to him in a normal voice. If it was him, he would hear her. Yridians had excellent hearing with those big ears.

One of those big ears twitched and he turned towards her. "Yeah?"

"Verad Nemtac," Mayla said with a smile, now confirming his identity matched with the often gruff voice she remembered. "I thought you would have long retired by now with a hefty nest egg."

"Do I know you?" He lumbered closer and put his hands on the counter between them, leaning forward to squint at her with intimidation in the dim lighting. "Please refresh my memory, young lady." He said, still in that same gruff voice. He felt it was important to be nice to a potential customer in his restaurant even if they were immediately rude to him. Especially a Starfleet officer this close to Earth.

"I hope the memory of my mother on your stage is bringing you many profits."

He made a quick glance at who the current holographic performer was on stage and then turned back to Mayla with his small eyes suddenly lighting up with recognition. He reached both hands out to her across the counter. His voice and tone suddenly changed. "Mayla?"

She also reached out and clasped his hands tightly. "It is, old friend."

The former owner of Future's End Nightclub on Starbase Epsilon Seven, once home to Bravo Epsilon Seven and then later to Bravo Squad, began to weep uncontrollably on his bar counter while still gripping her hands tightly.

\*(Lyrics excerpted from "No Rain, No Rainbow" by Babymetal.)

Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.08

In his quarters, Ryramorl lay on his back and bared his throat as he prayed to the ghost of his great-uncle.  “I must confess, once Holder of this name,” he said softly.  “My Long Hunt brought me near Carnor, and yet I did not come.  You left me bones, and I carelessly brought them near a great Shaman, who destroyed them along with the rest of my weaponry.  I have dishonoured you by not coming to help you pass across, and by letting your Bones be destroyed so soon.  I beg of you--a little time, until I can return to Carnor, and then I will make amends.”  He took a deep breath.  “I miss you deeply, and I will love you always.”

When he was done, he got up, brushed out his fur, and took the opportunity to dress in civilian clothes--in particular, the fine garb his mate had made him.

He headed down to the transporter room, catching a few surprised looks at the colourful outfit.  Once on the promenade, he looked around to get his bearings.  The first thing to do was find somewhere decent to eat.  Admiral MacLeod had introduced an excellent way to serve the organ meats of an animal, and many Carnora had quickly adapted haggis to their own animals.  Right now, Ryramorl decided to find a restaurant that served the original Earth dish.

It was almost strange in such a large area not to see a crowds of adults gathered in a circle cheering on youngsters who were beating each other black and blue--but this was the Federation, not the Carnora Pentarchy; such sport would not be welcome here.

As he walked down the promenade, he grunted as he saw two  Starfleet officers that he knew from the Academy.  His sharp ears told them that their conversation was merely social, so he decided to play a little joke and approached them, hiding a grin.  When there was a pause in the conversation, he stepped forwards.  “Cadet David Williams!” he growled menacingly.  “The superintendent will.  See.  You.  Now.”

Lieutenant Commander David Williams froze and took a deep breath.  “It’s Lieutenant Commander Williams now, and we are no longer in Starfleet Academy; and I outranked you then even as I do now.”  He turned around.  “Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral.”

Ryramorl saluted his friend.  “And you quickly found out how much that counted,” he said, no longer hiding his amusement.

Lieutenant Commander Crystal Lynn frowned.  “What’s this all about?” she asked, looking between the two officers.

Williams smiled ruefully.  “Lieutenant Ra’yral here and I were in Starfleet Academy together.  In our last year in the Academy, my squad would do the flying exhibition.  We were practicing in a flight simulator and decided to do a Kolvoord Starburst.  Our first attempt went… poorly.  Luckily, it was only a simulator, so no harm done.  We exited the simulator because our time was up and went for lunch.”  He took a deep breath.  “Of course, the profs had been watching the simulator, and knew exactly what we’d done.  So what do they do?  Send the biggest, strongest, and scariest Resident Assistant the Academy has to summon us to the superintendent's office.  Oh, and need I mention nobody had forgotten what happened between him and his first roommate?”

“I was on a different campus at the time, and I heard about it,” said Lynn, while Ryramorl sighed and flattened his ears in old shame.

Williams continued.  “Ryramorl came up to us and said that the superintendent wanted to see us.  Well, I’m not the one with the huge black mark on my record; I didn’t have my first year credits voided, and basically I’m of higher rank than he is as cadets go.  So, I said to him, ‘We’re having lunch,’ and waved him off.  He bared his claws, put two under my chin, and raised his hand.  Believe me, if you have two claws at your throat, you are standing up.  And he said… well, what he said just now.”  He took a deep breath then let it out.  “I thought we were all getting thrown out of the Academy, but no, it was just a reprimand and a reminder of previous incidents.”

“I also got chided for being unnecessarily intimidating,” said Ryramorl.  “Admiral Brand didn’t even ask me what I did, she simply said that she’d seen the faces of his squad and knew it must have been spectacular.”  He changed the topic.  “Last I heard, the Atarans wanted to send someone to Starfleet in another exchange program.  How’d that go?”

Lynn shook her head.  “He didn’t pass the exams,” she said.  “But Starfleet did point out other academies he could learn from.”  She frowned a bit.  “Why are the Carnora so intent on learning Federation technology?”

“Because the Dominion Wars showed us how lacking our own was,” he said.  “Reepchip’s repair sims should still be in the Academy holodeck computers, have a look at one of them sometime.”

“My grandfather says it was less your technology and more the fact that you were up against the Jem’Hadar,” said Williams.  “He’s told me some horror stories about them.”

Ryramorl sighed a bit, having lived through the invasion.  “It’s been good meeting you again, but I must go.  I’m hungry, and I believe there’s a place in the spacedock where one can get haggis.”

“There’s a good Scottish restaurant in that direction.  You got a PADD with you?”

“I do.”

Lieutenant Commander Williams gave him the coordinates, and Ryramorl entered them into his PADD, then thanked him before heading off.

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.08

Jahkar left the meeting with Vree shaking his head. Fools! McCulloch just back in the fold and Thompson literally days following his promotion to lieutenant commander and they’d both gotten themselves in trouble. And Beckett...he figured he'd have had the common sense to avoid getting into this situation.

Ironman Triathlon, huh? Lazarus and Vree had selected a fitting punishment for the three. An Ironman Triathlon is one of a series of long-distance triathlon races consisting of a 2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim, a 112-mile (180.25 km) bicycle ride and a marathon 26.22-mile (42.20 km) run, raced in that order. It is widely considered one of the most difficult one-day sporting events in the world.

Being that the three men would only have one hour daily to take part in an event that usually lasts one day, Jahkar decided he would run then through daily Ironman training sessions...harsh, rigorous one hour sessions that would focus on different aspects of the race. Then, at the end of the 30 days, he would put them through the entire course.

Most Ironman events have a limited time of 16 or 17 hours to complete the race, course dependent. The race typically starts at 0700 hours; the mandatory swim cut off for the 2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim is 0920 hours (2 hours 20 minutes), the mandatory bike cut off time is 1730 hours (8 hours 10 minutes), and the mandatory marathon cut off is midnight (6 hours 30 minutes). Any participant who manages to complete the triathlon within these time constraints is designated an Ironman.

Jahkar had discovered the Ironman event when he went to officer’s training school on Earth after his initial stint with Shadow Operations. He trained for the event for months and finally entered the event held in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. After several tries, the Marine’s best had been third place.

Realistically, the three men, two of them pushing 50 years old, needed a great deal more than 30 hours of training. No doubt they were all in peak condition, but the Ironman was not something to be taken lightly. Jahkar would encourage the three to spend more time outside their mandatory daily hour training for this.

The Romulan-Klingon arrived in his quarters and composed a message with the details of what was expected daily, the details of the race at the end of 30 days and the offer to provide additional training after hours. He then sent the message to all three men, with copies to Lazarus and Vree.

Commander Mayla Vree

Future's Edge Lounge, Earth Spacedock

Stardate 2103.08

"You've gotten even more sentimental in your old age." Mayla said, watching the emotions of loss trickle down his wrinkly face. Seeing her after all these years reminded him of his heartbreak when he heard the news that her mother had died in a tragic accident.

"That's what your father used to say to me at EpSeven." Nemtac dabbed his face and eyes dry with a towel from his pocket as he looked her up and down before giving her a big smile. "Look at you, all grown up and a Starfleet commander too by the looks of your uniform. Following in your father's footsteps?"

"Was there any doubt in that?" She said with a frown. "It's been a long time, Verad."

"It has." His face suddenly turned sad again. "You have my deepest condolences for the loss of your mother and sister." He nearly started crying again but kept it in check this time. He gestured to one of his bartenders to bring them drinks and something to eat.

"Thanks. I didn't know you had a restaurant here." Mayla said turning away from that topic all the while trying to keep her own emotions in check. As soon as she thought that, it strangely went away. Maybe it was because she was with someone and not alone.

Getting a hold of himself, he ignored the diners and staff giving him questioning looks as he let out a deep breath. "After I heard of your mother's passing, I closed Future's End and moved here. I figured Future's End had represented her living life. Future's Edge will represent her memory. And what better place than here, where dignitaries and ambassadors from every Federation planet eventually visits?"

"How thoughtfully romantic of you to monopolize on her death."

"No, no, no." He held up both hands interjecting her. "It's nothing like that. I have your father's permission as long as we were partners in this endeavor. To honor her memory, I felt her family must be involved."

"Partners, huh?" Mayla sadly watched the holographic image begin performing another song. "When I walked by, I was just wondering how uncanny the reproduction of her performance was so accurate." She gave him a smile. "Now I know why."

Their drinks and small plates of food arrived. Nemtac nodded to her. "I recorded every single one of her performances at Future's End and paid a lot of money to try to get as many of the holographic recordings of her songs after you moved off of EpSeven. After Lin's death, your father received all the rights to her body of work. Only he would be able to allow me to honor her this way. "

"You've spoken to my father since her death?" she asked sharply.

"Yes, several times to finalize the contract." Nemtac waved into the air above them and didn't notice her tone. "He owns half the restaurant. But only wanted 25 percent of the profits." He pulled out a fresh isolinear chip and pushed it into a terminal. "But instead, I've been putting aside 40% of the profits locked away for him all this time. He told me if I was ever to see you, to activate his business transfer protocols and turn his share entirely over to you." He finished encrypting the files and handed her the chip. "He instructed me to code that chip to your DNA's biochemistry that he encrypted for me. It contains all of your holdings spread out across a dozen world's banks including Ferenginar. All in different denominations including Federation credits. Also included on that chip is the ownership deed of a Latinum-class suite here on the station with an Earthside view in case you need it. Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of half of Future's Edge."

"Latinum-class suite? How did my father swing that?" she asked while taking the chip hesitantly. These suites were usually reserved for member planet ambassadors or dignitaries whose home planets decided to allow them to live on the station. So they would purchase these permanent quarters for them to reside in. And with an Earthside view, these were among the most expensive suites on the station.

"I pulled a few strings, called in a favor or two, and put down lots of FedCredits to get one for each of us." Nemtac smiled as if proud of himself for pulling off a lucrative deal. "I almost got it at two for one by the end of negotiations."

Mayla nodded and smiled. Now there's that dealing and wheeling of a typical Yridian. "So you live on the station too?"

"Yes, different deck, same side of the station." He closed out his terminal.

Mayla fingered the isolinear chip and held it up. "How much is there?"

"Enough to retire on right now, if you so choose." Nemtac popped a piece of finger food into his mouth and leaned over the counter and whispered to her. "The equivalent of a bit over three thousand bricks of gold pressed latinum. The investments they're kept in have been lucrative. And it will keep growing with the continued profits I'll keep depositing from here."

Mayla was in shock. If he had given Kyril 40% of the profit share and it was already three thousand bricks of latinum, Nemtac's own holdings must be incredibly huge. "You didn't have to do this."

"I want to. Lin performing at Future's End made me a lot of latinum. And now she still continues to do so. It is the least I could do for your family." He looked at holo-Linsayla nostalgically. "And here we'll always see her in her prime."

"And also that you were in love with her." Mayla pocketed the chip.

"Ky told you, eh?"

"He did. But I think she knew it too." Mayla turned her glass in a fidgeting manner. "She always had a soft spot for you."

"It's all space dust at warp speed now. Your mother's gone, and this is one of the things I could do to remember her by." He leaned an elbow on the counter and looked wistfully at the holographic image on stage. "This way I get to see her all the time."

"You play her songs everyday, all day?"

He looked at her and shook his head. "In the beginning I did. But a few months later, business began to taper off because of it. So I expanded to other performers if I was able to purchase holographic royalties to run their programs here. But because we're in Earth orbit, I've specialized mostly in Earth music. I've compiled hundreds of thousands of songs and holographic performances dating back over 450 years. I've also tried to attain other music too, Vulcan, Andorian, Betazoid, Ferengi, Trill, Bolian, Klingon, and even some Romulan in the past few years. But demand for those remains low. It's mostly Earth music here that is requested for in the booths. But people still remember your mother, and her music is still popular here." He waved towards the rear of the restaurant. "I also have holosuites in the back for holonovel, historical recreations, and entire concerts."

"Do you have the holoplay of The Angry Compassionate Vulcan and His Pet Targ?" She suddenly asked, but had no idea why.

The Yridian smiled. "I do have that one. And I have the entire series of The Adventures of Flotter if you're still interested in those."

Mayla chuckled and took another sip from her glass. "You've done well here, Verad. I think my mother would approve."

"You think so?"

"Well, I approve. And my father approved. So I think we're both pretty sure she would too."

"Thank you." He said. "That truly means something to me."

"I'm going to be stationed in the Sol Sector, so now I can come by and see my mother almost any time I want." Mayla said with a smile. She reached out and touched his arm to emphasize her sincerity. "Thank you for doing all of this."

He patted her hand but she didn't pull away. She looked around and studied the restaurant again but with a new perspective. Seeing many similarities to Future's End she remembered so well brought a smile to her face. She had spent so much time sitting right in this very same seat where Nemtac kept watch over her while her mother worked. Her bond with Nemtac since she was a child had been strong, along with his great affection for the singer, and her adoration for her mother. Both loved Linsayla, and both mourned for her. And now, both can wade in the cloud of pleasant memories of her music together.

Nemtac saw the look on her face and patted her hand again. "I miss her too, youngster."

Commander Mayla Vree

Concourse, Earth Spacedock

Stardate 2103.08

As much as she didn't want to leave the company of Nemtac, she ultimately had to make preparations to head down to Earth after already spending several seemingly short hours at Future's Edge. During that time, he showed her how he ran the restaurant and introduced her to the half dozen managers who helped run the lounge so it can cater to all of the different patrons of the station at any time. She assured him she would remain a silent partner, and that all matters pertaining to the lounge would remain in his purview.

When she did finally leave, the holographic music performers on the stage had already been cycled onward after Linsayla's set. Now as she stepped out the door, she took one last look back at the band of three young human girls dancing while singing a song that to Mayla, just sounded like loud wailing electronic stringed instrument noise with cute singing fused within. They even wore cute outfits. But she couldn't fault their energy and dedication to how much fun they were having while performing. She didn't know why, but she was strangely drawn to them and decided to look up more of their body of work when she got back to the ship.

Instead of taking a transporter gate to go directly to the berth the Resurrection was at, she decided to continue walking in the same direction to see how much more of the Concourse she could see before she had to leave. Many of the same chains of storefronts she saw at Starbase 36 were also here. She really liked the diversity of restaurants that were available to accommodate any type of visitors at the center of the Federation. She couldn't believe it when she saw it, but there was even a Romulan restaurant there. With the Romulans now scattered throughout the galaxy, what was left of the Romulan Star Empire was now the Romulan Free State with no centralized government. Having Romulans here at Spacedock clearly showed they were no longer considered a major threat by the Federation.

After a while, she looked at her chronometer and saw it was approaching the late afternoon at her next destination on Earth. She'll have to come visit again as she hadn't even covered a quarter of the Concourse yet. She accessed the directory and found a florist that specialized in Earth plants and flower bouquets. This time, she did take a transporter gate and stepped out on the second level somewhere else along the Concourse. She followed the map in her eyes until she found the shop called Boothby's.

Mayla stood outside wondering if this proprietor had anything to do with the former groundskeeper at Starfleet Academy. She walked in and began perusing the freshly made bouquets that were displayed in glass cabinets that were set to an ideal environment to keep the plants alive and healthy for much longer than normal.

"Are you looking for something special?" A human male came out from the back where Mayla could see he was assembling a specially ordered floral arrangement.

"Just something simple." Mayla said, pointing at one with pink, yellow, and violet flowers. "I like that one."

The man walked over and took out the bouquet. "Will that be all?"

"Yes." Mayla followed him to the counter where the man began to wrap the bouquet with some replicated paper. While she waited, Mayla noticed a photo frame on the wall, and it was indeed the groundskeeper with a young boy. "That's Boothby from the Academy."

The man looked up. "Yes, my grandfather. That's me in the picture in front of his prized elm tree just before he retired. It was the last time he ever saw it." He gave the ribboned bow holding the bouquet together one last tightening. "There, all done."

Mayla gave him a smile and ran her Federation chip through the console set into the counter. "Thank you. Have a nice day."

"I hope you will too," the man said, passing the neatly wrapped package to her and then waved goodbye.

Following the Concourse map in her eyes, she located the transporter gates that would take her down to Starfleet Academy. It was in a dedicated area to allow entire cadet instructional classes to move from the classroom to the station for offsite training or instruction. With her access, they allowed her through easily and in a few minutes, she was standing in the familiar quad of Starfleet Academy. But this wasn't her final destination.

Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral

Spaceport, Sol System

Stardate 2103.09

Ryramorl finished eating his haggis and stood up.  As he left the restaurant, he smelled an Andorian scent he never thought he’d smell again.  He took a deep breath when the Andorian saw him and walked straight towards him.  Ryramorl repressed a growl but stood his ground.  “Zo’ar  Zh’riakrer.  It has been a long time.”

Zo’ar came face to face with Ryramorl, jaw set.  “Not long enough,” he responded coldly.

“I thought you’d be back on Andoria, with the ALF--or what remains of it.”

Zo’ar drew in a sharp breath at the name--after the fall of the ALF, rumours had gotten out about what really happened.  “We were played like fiddles!”

“Oh no, Zo’ar,” quoted Ryramorl.  “Fiddles are actually quite difficult to play.  They played you like the cheap kazoos you are.”

Zo’ar didn’t know what a kazoo was, but he knew an insult when he heard one.  He stepped forwards, getting right in Ryramorl’s face, “Next time we meet, I will have my ushaan-tors ready.”

“I’m not going to duel you,” said Ryramorl.  “I already know what the outcome will be.”  Ryramorl’s ears heard the sound of people approaching with purpose; he guessed it was security.    “What happened was two decades ago.  Get.  Over.  It.”

“Is there a problem?” asked one of the Starfleet security officers, coming up to them.

Not if I can help it,” said Ryramorl.  “I am going that way,” he pointed in the direction he intended to go.  “Kindly choose another, Zo’ar.”  He saluted the officer, who was surprised to see Ryramorl give a very correct Starfleet salute.  Then the Carnora headed down the Promenade.

So.  Zo’ar was still very much alive, and still bitter.  Maybe it was time to see if Zo’ar had simply been transferred to another campus or kicked out altogether as Ryramorl had nearly been.

Commander Mayla Vree

Lower Marin Headlands

North America, Earth

Stardate 2103.09

Mayla stopped picking at trying to arrange a stray baby's breath stem in the bouquet of flowers she still had with her. Whatever she tried to do; it was useless fighting against sudden gusts of the offshore wind that was intent on undoing the bouquet. She stood at the rocky outcropping at the sea level of the ruins of Battery Wagner in the Marin Headlands. Looking out across the Golden Gate Straits with the namesake bridge on the left and the open Pacific Ocean on the right, it was a beautiful scene with shuttles flitting overhead between Starfleet Command and various other Starfleet buildings around including Starfleet Academy that was situated far above and behind her. It was late in the afternoon and traffic in the air had tapered off. She even saw several ocean-going vessels in the far-off ocean horizon hoping to enjoy the peaceful setting, and maybe even see the sunset before the fog rolled in.

Here down near the water with the ocean waves feeding into the San Francisco Bay, turbulent waves broke against the rocks near her, slowly wearing away the rock. Despite the modernization of the surrounding area above, down near the water had been kept void of any technology to preserve the natural setting of the area. For most people they would enjoy the seemingly serene scenery with perhaps a picnic or a frolic in the water in the nearby Kirby Cove Beach. But for Mayla, this spot she was standing at wasn't a place for it, and she never deemed it so. She turned around and walked closer to the base of the cliffs that reached up to meet with the Academy. She found the specific spot where she remembered the site to be. Carefully and reverently, she placed the bouquet on the rocky ground.

Thirteen years ago, her sibko sister, Neri, had taken her own life when the one of freedom she had fought to attain was beyond her reach of understanding or assimilation. She was the only one who had given up when she was unable to cope with the new freedoms she had after leaving the military structure of the Linea. At this moment, she imagined her surviving sibkins standing behind her, all honoring their fallen sister together in spirit, if not in person.

Mayla looked far up to the cliff's edge where Neri had made that last step of her life. Her death had a profound impact to her sibko, born and bred to be warriors who were deemed deficient with too great of an emotional attachment that came with the memory engram programming they all received. They were all to be terminated by the newer generations of the experiments, but the few remaining members of Mayla's gene vat generation had escaped. The rest were brutally killed.

"I thought I saw your name on the visitor's list today," a man's voice said behind her. She turned around and saw a Starfleet officer with the trappings of a commandant climb over a rocky boulder to get to her.

"Commandant Wynter," Mayla acknowledged when she recognized the face. She gave him a smile. "Still with the Academy?"

"It's my passion," said Harlan Wynter, the commandant of cadets at Starfleet Academy. His stylized hairstyle streaked with grey changed every year, whatever the latest style was for a man of his age. Despite the youthfulness of his hairstyle, the grey-haired human with a long scar on his left cheek down to his neck was still intimidating until you've talked with him. "It's nice to see a former cadet come visit," he said as he looked at the flowers on the ground. "Even though it's for a somber occasion."

"I thought I'd come to pay my respects to Neri." Mayla said.

Wynter nodded sadly. He remembered the names of every cadet lost at the Academy under his watch. Thankfully it wasn't a very long list. "It was tragic."

"It was," Mayla said. "And I could have prevented it, if I only paid a little more attention to her underlying needs."

"You can't blame yourself. You had your entire sibko to look after, even with your previous experiences at the Academy."

Mayla slowly shook her head. "I could have gone through the entire coursework with my eyes closed. The reason I was with them was to look after them; to help them...adjust to this new lifestyle."

"You were only a child yourself at the time, you shouldn't place that sort of pressure on yourself." He put his hands on his hips in a relaxed pose and watched the waves lap beneath the Golden Gate Bridge and into the Bay.

Mayla scoffed lightly. "A child with memories that surpass nearly a millennia."

"Be that as it may, it was still all new to you because you were going through it with your sibko."

Wynter was one of the few who knew part of the secret behind Mayla and her sibko's past. After all, he had to come up with an accelerated curriculum suited for them to become viable Starfleet officers in exchange for their amnesty in half the time due to their intelligence and experience. Sorvek had only told him the children were genetically enhanced with advanced implanted memories of a warrior race. And were tied to servitude to Shadow Operations upon graduation.

Mayla remained silent as Wynter worked his way to stand beside her to take in the view of Starfleet Command across the turbulent straits. "I see you're on the visitors list for Zacary Traela."

"Yes. My ship is currently at Spacedock. I figured I should give him a visit since I'm here." Mayla nearly added that Zac's parents had asked her to visit him whenever she was in the neighborhood. She took a deep breath after a pensive minute passed as if there was something else he wanted to talk about. And she had a pretty good idea what it was. She waited another 30 seconds before deciding to push. "Commandant, with all due respect, you might as well tell me about my brother instead of prolonging the inevitable."

Wynter laughed lightly at her astuteness, but knew it was a serious matter. "Our analysis of Tylin's behavior after his first year here showed his interest in what we teach here had waned. Not so much as the education aspects of the coursework, but more of the philosophical views of why a cadet would want to join and serve in Starfleet. And how Starfleet conducts itself in the name of the Federation. His continuous questions about certain events of Federation history and the sacrifices it had to make to get to where we are didn't sit well with him. I've had to see him on several occasions to assuage his views."

"Was he disrupting class?"

"He started a club of dissension."

That made Mayla perk up. "That can't be true."

"I'm sorry, but it is. He started a riot in a class."

She closed her eyes and lightly shook her head. "When did he leave?"

"Two days after I met with him and threatened him with expulsion after the fourth disruption to his classes."

"Four times?" Mayla said as she looked at him. "You let him off easy."

He frowned and let out a sigh. "I was trying to buy some time. My attempts to contact your father first grew futile. Whether I sent communiques or inquired about his whereabouts to try to contact him, I always came up empty handed. I even sent Sorvek a message, but he didn't respond. Then I found out why. I'm sorry for your loss."

"I was just at his funeral on Vulcan," Mayla said in a monotone voice. Then she turned the conversation back to her brother. "So Tylin just left without telling anyone?"

Wynter gave her a nod of affirmation to change the subject. "He apparently did. I started an investigation and interviewed everyone who knew him, as we had to have suspect foul play just in case. But from the looks of him packing and taking all of his belongings with him, and interviews with a few of his friends who had mentioned that he had talked about quitting, we figured he had indeed left. Then we received a message from your grandmother saying he was with her which confirmed our suspicions. We closed the investigation and his Academy file."

"I'm sorry he caused any problems."

Wynter dismissed the apology. "He is not the first one who's disagreed with Federation policy and enforcement. Everyone learns the history as it is, without chicanery as any falsehood would quickly be discovered through other means. But cadets learn early on that the Academy is not a forum for political opinions or to dispute policy. We're here to create Starfleet officers. Hence the entrance exam for anyone who wants to join Starfleet."

"Well, he's left his grandmother's house without notice. I'm investigating off the record to try to track him down," Mayla said with a voice of concern. "That's why I need to talk with Zac."

He reached into a pocket and pulled out an Academy dorm visitor's pass and handed it to her. "Good luck with finding him. In this great big universe, it's harder than looking for a needle in a haystack in the dark."

She attached the pass to her uniform. "Thank you. I'm just hoping he can take care of himself."

He extended his hand out to her. "I hope your brother will be well."

Mayla took the hand and gave it a good one time shake. "I thank you for...supporting the cadets. Your contributions are underrated, and underappreciated."

Wynter gave her a smile and began to make his way off the rocky shore, leaving Mayla alone with her thoughts.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.09

With the mechanics back in order, now came the second part--redoing the inscriptions.  From a special storage cabinet, Reepchip retrieved the inks and styli required to do the glyphs and diagrams.  He’d kept them basic in this sim, since he wasn’t fully trained in them, and began chanting as he mixed the inks.  And then, continuing his chants, he began writing the strange symbols on the walls.  Despite the disparate races on Carnor, they held the same central religion, the one given to them by The Messengers thousands of years ago and maintained by the Banded Priests since then.  He completely lost himself in the ritual as he redrew the symbols and re-blessed the ship

Once he was done, he realized that his time on the holodeck was more than up, so he ended the sim.  The grime and dirt, however, had basically been real, which meant the brown-furred Muran was black from nose to tail-tip when he exited the holodeck and leaving behind grease prints on the floor.  As he headed towards his quarters, he gave Lieutenant Chopra a cheery salute, letting the technician wonder what the Muran had been up to.

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.09

Tiri sat at the doctor’s desk in the medical bay, feet up on the desktop as she looked up at the holographic display and occasionally reached out to tap in commands. The Andorian gave a deep sigh after what was probably her fifteenth or so try at contacting *USS Bethesda*. She was concerned with the fact she could not raise the ship and by her own estimates, it was more than a day late arriving at its destination.

Still, she could not determine if the ship was listed as missing, nor could she find out if Starfleet was looking for it.

The captain and commander hadn’t seemed overly concerned when she’d brought it up, so part of Tiri wondered if she should just drop it. But another part of the young Andorian kept nagging that there might be something wrong.

As she keyed the transmit button on the touch-surface holo-screen for probably the sixteenth time, a hologram materialized next to her.

“You’re in my spot,” the EMH said annoyedly. “And get your feet off my desk.”

Tiri looked over at the EMH and considered saying ‘no’, but decided she’d better play nice just in case the EMH someone held some sort of rank around here.

“Sorry,” she said, putting her feet down and standing up. “I wasn’t aware you could activate yourself.”

The small Indian woman gave a disgusted snort, “I’m not a first generation EMH, lieutenant. What are you doing here? Don’t you have something better to do?”

Tiri smirked, “Well, honestly, no. There are no other women in the team, other than the commander, and she never seems to fraternize with the rest of us. The guys are all buddied up doing their testosterone driven stuff that they do. There’s Colonel Jahkar, but ever since his promotion he’s been busy.”

To avert sounding like she was whining, Tiri decided to stop while she was ahead. “So, here I am. Searching for the *USS Bethesda* and wondering where young Tiken is.”

The EMH scowled, “*Bethesda* is a medical vessel on a special mission taking the child to a safe place. It isn’t unusual they are running silent.”

Tiri nodded, “I’ve told myself that.”

“As for your lack of a social life, maybe you should go to the station and meet new people,” the EMH suggested. “Or beam down to Earth.”

Tiri shrugged, “I don’t know. Nothing really seems to sound good.”

“Well, you’ll have to excuse me, I’m a doctor, not a cruise director,” the EMH said, taking her seat. “You’ll have to take this...pity party elsewhere.”

Tiri scowled, “You have the bed-side manner of a Mark 1, I’ll say that much. I guess I’ll go see if Jahakr’s around.”

The EMH looked up, “You’ve mentioned him twice. Sounds like something more might be there.”

“What do you mean?” Tiri asked, placing her hands on the desk and leaning forward toward the EMH. “If it means what I think you’re suggesting, then….no...eww. He’s old enough to be my father.”

The EMH raised an eyebrow, “I’ve noted subtle variances in your pulse rate when you mention him. I’ve also noticed them in his presence.”

The Andorian stood up straight and backed up, mouth agape, “What...no...you must be malfunctioning.”

The EMH laughed, “I’m just making a scientific observation.”

“Well you’re wrong,” she hissed. “He’s a friend...my commanding officer...nothing more.”

“Well then, carry on lieutenant,” the EMH said, turning toward a data PADD on her desk. “Tell the colonel I said hello when you see him.”

Sh’avelith frowned at the EMH before she turned and stomped out the doors, “Ridiculous…” She made her way off the ship and went to see what was happening aboard Spacedock.

Commander Mayla Vree

Starfleet Academy, Earth

Stardate 2103.10

She was standing in his dorm room looking like a storm cloud when Zacary James Traela walked in from his last class of the day with his roommates. The laughing and kidding with each other stopped immediately when they saw the Starfleet commander standing in their room. Actually, at first they didn't know why such an attractive woman was in their room, of all dorm rooms there. Then they notice the uniform, then the commander's pips. Then apparently, even though they'd never met Zac's surrogate sister before, they knew exactly who she was. And the fact that she was a full commander meant someone might be in trouble.

"Ulp, we'll see you later, Zac," the young Bolian elbowed their human friend and made themselves scarce.

"Uh," Zac started. "Hi May-may!" The half Trill half Human gave her a big grin.

She gave him a stern look and pointed to one of the beds. "Sit down."

He didn't want to. He saw all the signs of her disapproval of something he's done. But reluctantly, he put his backpack down and did sit down; ready to receive her wrath. "I can explain. I promised him-."

"I already know Tylin went to Draconis IV. What I want to know is, why of all places."

Zac felt deflated, and it suddenly showed in his slumped shoulders. "He...wanted to go someplace that shared similar views of the Federation. When he saw the news about the growing tensions for secession from the Federation on Draconis, he wanted to join their cause." He looked up at her with a pleading look. "I really did try to stop him. Short of calling you though."

Mayla sighed and looked at him. "He would have received a lot of resistance from me or our father."

"He thought it might be easier if he just left, rather than to drag it out in an argument."

"Do you know where he's staying? Or who he's with?"

Zac shook his head and shrugged. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm stationed here in the Sol Sector now."

"Oh." It was clear that made him uneasy. "That's good."

"Oh, really?" She said, with the same mocking tone he used. "I'm not here to babysit you, Zac. You're too old for that now. I would figure with your father also stationed in this sector would be enough to keep your mind on track. And to keep yourself out of trouble."

He scoffed and threw up his hands. "You don't know the half of it."

Mayla leaned her backside against his desk. "Not easy having a captain as a father, neh?" Then she suddenly smiled with understanding enlightenment. "Oh, I get it. It's having BOTH father and mother as captains."

He looked up with her with the saddest eyes he could muster. "The pressure to become who they want me to be is tremendous! I can see the little push here and there, but I still feel it heavy, here." His hand went to his chest. "And it hurts whenever I fail at something or disappoint them.”

"Your mother wants you to be happy. She wants you to have every opportunity to be happy. As for your father, he means well and is doing his best." Mayla said neutrally as she knew Dezin Traela was a strict traditionalist Trill. Kindred Dakota was the emotional loving side of the pair.

"I wish Uncle Ky was here. He would understand."

Mayla gave him a sad frown. Despite Kyril's absence in his life, Zac still had a familial bond with his biological father even though he doesn't know it. It was a very close kept secret literally only a handful of people in this universe knew about.

"Your Uncle Ky hasn't been around in seven years. We all need to learn to stand on our own two feet, Zac." She walked over and sat on the bed next to him. "You know you can always come to me for advice. I've alway been there for you."

He leaned his head on her shoulder, feeling the sisterly bond he had with her. "I know. But without Tylin here, or Nielle, or Tajel, my childhood isn't here to help me through…" he waved his hands around them. "...this."

"Starfleet Academy isn't meant for you to carry your childhood with you. You must put all that behind. You're training to be in Starfleet. What did you think was happening here?"

"When Nilani died, deep inside, I promised myself to hold on to what I already had. As we got older, I was happy and even thought as long as we stayed together, we would be fine. To be there for each other." He choked for a moment, fighting down his emotions. "You were gone. Then Tajel left for the Academy. Then Nielle left. When Tylin and I decided to join the Academy together, I thought we would go through the coursework together, then request duty stations together. Now even he's gone and left me alone here."

With that comment, Mayla's thoughts turned back to Zac's history and understood where this feeling of abandonment came from. His childhood was different from other children. It was classified. Or rather, his origins were falsified when he was adopted by Kindred and her husband Dezin. Only about eight people knew of his true origins. Linsayla and Sorvek were amongst the eight. And so was Mayla.

But she remembered when Nilani died, and how it affected the children. Zac and Tylin were close, like brothers who were the same age. So with association, Nilani might as well be his sister. Different from how Mayla was like a sister, who was more like his babysitter; or a big sister with a decade of years between them. For most of their childhood they had each other for support, encouragement, and a loving bond that can only come from shared happiness and pure joy. So, when Nilani died, Zac became afraid of losing any more of his best friends; his support group.

As they got older, one by one, each began going their own way. Tylin and Zac, the youngest in the group, were the last ones together. Now at the Academy, Tylin had left on his own, leaving Zac alone. Abandonment was a strong word, as he shouldn't feel that everyone had left him on purpose. This underlying mixed feeling of loss and codependency was in Zac's psyche from childhood. Even his parents were absentee parents most of the time; Dakota was still with Bravo Squad at the time but is a starship captain now, and Traela had his own starship command. But is that a good enough excuse? Was there ever a good enough excuse?

"You can't expect them to be with you always. We all grow up to be independent, Zac. And some day, WE are going to need your help and support." She wrapped both her arms around him in a hug. "And you must make yourself strong enough to support us when we need you most, as surely as we will when you need our help. You'll find later on if you follow that path, things will begin to make sense and fall into place. You will finally find your place in the universe that will make you happy. And hopefully at the same time, make others happy too."

She didn't know if what she said was getting through to him. It was difficult to live under the pressure of two captain parents. It was already difficult enough with just one, but two was sometimes more than a child can handle. The fear of failure to live up to his parents' passive expectations was keeping him back mentally. It was a wall he must overcome, or bypass. But it cannot be ignored.

"I dream often we were all together again, like we used to be." Zac said quietly. "I remember being happy then."

Mayla couldn't help but to smile at simpler times. "I know. We had a lot of good memories together."

"Do you remember when we would all sleep in the same bed and Auntie Lin used to tell us Uncle Ky's stories about flying with wake angels?" She could feel him smile at the memory.

"It's funny you should mention that," Mayla said with a chuckle. Then she told him her own recent story of wake angels and smiled when she remembered that he had always liked stories like this. His head was in the stars of fairy tale experiences, but it was his attachment to his childhood that kept him from soaring free of the fear of loss. After her story, he stayed quiet for a while, comforted in her embrace even if it was for a brief time.

"I remember she used to sing us to sleep with a lullaby after storytime," he quietly said. "I can still hear it in my mind."

"Yes, Dream Fairies. She wrote that song just for us." Mayla said softly, nuzzling her cheek against his head like the way she used to to comfort him when he was little. "And guess what? Future's Edge Lounge at Spacedock plays her holographic performances."

She could feel him perk up at the news. "Really?"

"Really. So, if and when you could go, ask for the owner Verad Nemtac and tell him who you are. I'll leave him with your name. He'll run a few holographic recordings from her performances for you. I just came from there and they are real recordings, not computer generated. Seeing her again made me feel better."

"Okay. That's good to know," he responded with a little more cheer, and maybe hope.

She came to the Academy to find out more about Tylin's state of mind as to why he left. But instead she ended up learning more about Zac's frame of mind as he was learning to battle with his own challenges at the Academy. When she finally left, she hoped he would remember the tidbits of wisdom she gave him. Because sometimes that was all she could offer.

Commander Mayla Vree and Lieutenant Commander Daryl Thompson

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.11

Mayla had stayed at the Academy longer than she expected. It was nearly evening by the time she returned to Spacedock. Earlier, she had only covered maybe a kilometer of the Concourse, and there was still so much to see. But now, she hurried towards a transporter gate that would take her to one closer to the turbolift back to the *Resurrection*'s berth.

But a smell, and then something caught her eye, stopping her in her tracks. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She definitely didn't expect to see this restaurant here, although its Earth origins would give it credence as to why there was one here. And she knew one of her teammates would love to have an order from here since he wasn't allowed off the ship during this visit.

She tapped her comm badge. "Vree to Thompson, meet me at my quarters for dinner in 20 minutes. We have a few things to discuss."

"Aye. See you there."

She stepped into the long queue and waited longer than she thought to just place an order. Then she waited much longer than she thought to actually receive the food. While she waited, all she could do was take in the smell; the aromatics of bits of charred meat and vegetables with exotic oils. She could remember the first time she smelled that as a child. Her first experience of the meat and vegetables placed between two pieces of bread was with Daryl Thompson at Starbase Epsilon Seven. She often couldn't get enough of the deep fried root vegetable that could be dipped in a tangy tomato sauce called ketchup. Sometimes the fries were covered with a milk byproduct called cheese. And the beverage called a milkshake sucked through a straw balanced the meal. If only she could package that cooking smell and bring it back with her for Daryl to always have. But nothing beat eating the actual thing.

Already fifteen minutes late in meeting Daryl, Mayla held the bag by the bottom with a towel to keep the oil that had begun to soak through the large bag by the time she had reached the turbolift to the docking berth. When she got to the berth, she had to hug it against her abdomen to keep it from dripping all over the ship's corridors. She should have just requested to beam directly to the ship rather than walking (running) all the way back. But she didn't know what a transporter would do to the freshly cooked food, and she didn't want to take the chance of it being ruined.

When she finally got to her quarters, Daryl was still there waiting for her outside. He looked at what she was holding and had a questioning look on his face.

"Is that dinner?"

"It is. Sorry I'm late." she said, immediately brushing by him and into her quarters before the towel and her uniform got too soaked. She plopped the bag down on her peninsula desk and looked at the oil on her hands, sleeve, and shirt. "Now why didn't I remember this was so...leaky?"

Daryl followed her in and watched her still with a question mark on his face. The door closed behind him and he just stood there watching Mayla run to a panel on a wall dispenser to gather more towels. He took a step forward with the intent on helping until he got a whiff of something familiar in the air. It couldn't be. His eyes opened wider as the smell was stronger now that they were in a confined space.

"You didn't," he said slowly approaching her desk, continuously sniffing the air around it and noticing the soaked through bag and towel.

"I saw it, immediately thought of you, and I did." She took off her uniform shirt and threw it into the recycler. Then noticing her undershirt was also a soaked oily mess. She grabbed a fresh uniform and undershirt from a drawer. "Don't turn around. I'm changing."

"Yeah," he answered her absentmindedly, but not paying any attention to what she was doing. His attention was fully attuned to the bag rather than the nakedness of his CO. At first he didn't see the markings on the bag when she rushed in, but he slowly slid the bag around and saw the logo on the side. "No way. There's one here?"

She pulled on a clean undershirt, and then her shirt before plopping into her chair on the other side. "There are THREE here." Mayla said with a smile. She handed him a few of the towels and tore open the bag. Hot smoke came out of it, filling her quarters with the smell of one of Daryl's most favorite foods from one of his favorite restaurants. Mayla kicked out the seat that folded open from beneath her desk for him to sit on.

He couldn't help but to grin from cheek to cheek. Despite all that happened today, this was a good way of ending it. "Buffalo Burger Bar! I didn't think I would eat one of their burgers for a long while." His eyes twinkled as he started pulling out the food and discovered she had ordered the jumbo size of everything. "You got french fries AND cheese fries? Is this a milkshake?" His voice rose a notch at the revelation of each item of food. "They had real milkshakes?!"

"And your favorite combination of flavors too," Mayla said, buttoning up her shirt. "So stop drooling and just eat."

He stabbed a straw into the top of the tall enclosed cup and took a draw. "And I think they used real milk too."

"Well, there is fresh milk on Earth. They probably had it imported locally," she said, laying out her own buffalo burger and french fries. She waited for Daryl to take the first bite. She wanted to see his reaction. It was funny because this was like the first time, he took her to eat one of these and he watched her take the first bite. But he didn't start with the burger. He started with the fries.

"Did you know they make their own ketchup from an original recipe from hundreds of years ago?" Daryl said as he swirled a fry in the small condiment container of red sauce. "It's the only place I know of that makes it this way. Oh, I know there have been other recipes, but theirs had the best flavor that complement their burgers."

"I'm hungry, can you take the first bite already?" Mayla said, patiently waiting.

He gave her a stupid grin and unwrapped the burger. "Two patties? This thing is huge."

"They were advertising it as something new. And I thought to myself, why not? Who knows when we'll be back this way again." Mayla looked at her own burger in anticipation. It was always fun to watch Daryl eat. He enjoyed this food too much.

"Okay, here goes."

Daryl held the huge burger in front of him. The smell was delicious! Just like he remembered it. He took a long inhale of the aroma and savored it for just a few seconds. It had been literally years since he ate the famous burger. He took a firm bite, ignoring the fact that sauce and oil dripped from the burger onto his hands, and onto the ripped paper bag. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, the awesome taste of the best burger of the universe! He chewed on it and couldn’t be happier at this moment. He opened his eyes again and saw Mayla chuckle, before she took a bite from her own burger. He grinned and took another bite. This was awesome!

Mayla savored the first bite of her own burger in her mouth. Just for a moment, she put behind all that's happened in recent weeks, and focused on the immediate. And for this moment here and now, it was too bad it wouldn't last as she knew they would have to touch upon a somber topic that had to be discussed. She understood Daryl's need to capture a part of his past that he had lost. But she wanted to try to get him to look forward, and not hold on too tight to what's gone. In her memories, that attempt would only leave the person empty and lonely because of time and effort wasted in the present looking for a past that will never come back.

Fifteen minutes later, Daryl finished his last bite. A few fries were left and, but he couldn’t eat anymore. He sipped on the straw of his milkshake, a mix of vanilla, blueberry and strawberry, and sat back satisfied, exhaling. “Man, I’m stuffed. Yet I could eat another one. They're so hellish good!” Daryl exclaimed.

Mayla picked her own strawberry milkshake and took a long draw to wash down the first half of her burger. She didn't want to admit it right yet that she was getting her fill too. "Alright, you want to tell me what you saw at the funeral?" she asked since he was already done.

Daryl nodded, while he still was wiping his hands on a napkin. “It’s a pretty short story. When we were on Starbase 36, a hooded figure passed by. He didn’t say or do anything, and I couldn’t see his face, but it felt as if somehow, I knew him. He moved in a very familiar way. Also, his one hand was covered in a glove. I tried following him, but he disappeared in the crowd. I didn’t make much of it, but it was a strange experience. It felt very discomforting, yet…” Daryl thought about how to express the feeling he had experienced “familiar…” He concluded.

“Anyway, like I said, I didn’t make much of it. But somewhere in the back of my mind it kept churning. So, fast forward to the funeral. After the service, when people mingled about, I stood with McCulloch and 2 employees of the company he runs. Then, I suddenly saw that same hooded figure standing there. He didn’t see me, so I tried to get to him, but he saw me before I could get to him, so he ran away. The rest is what you saw on the video. It was unmistakably Greg Durham. I ran every piece of software I could think of and they all came to the same conclusion that this had to be Greg Durham. However, he disappeared into nothing. There was no traceable energy pattern from the location where he disappeared. He just vanished in thin air.“ Daryl silenced for a few moments.

He looked at his Commander. “I know, at least, I think I know that Greg is dead. However, do we know this 100 percent sure? I mean...was Greg’s body ever found and identified? Jaeger said he killed him, but that was some 20 years ago. Jaeger only confessed about this a few years ago. I mean, technically, there is still a chance…” Daryl looked at Mayla. She saw the hope in his eyes, the hope that his old buddy was still alive….

She picked up a fresh napkin and wiped her mouth before shaking her head. "Bravo Squad had him and your clone in stasis, to be taken back to Starfleet to stand trial for assassinating two Starfleet captains. Jaeger ripped them both out of stasis and incinerated the bodies in the main reactor core of Umbra One to keep them from entering trial." She nearly sneered at the thought of Jaegar's betrayal to Shadow Operations. "At the time, as much as they didn't know he was a clone of you, Durham may have been a clone too. But it wouldn't be from the facility my father destroyed."

Mayla's voice changed to a more somber tone. "What I'm about to tell you has been classified for a long while, and rarely discussed with anyone. When my father found the massive Linea cloning facility, there was already a small population of clones already out of the vats. He had to kill every single one of them who in all essence, believed they were the originals. Then after that, he had to kill all of those still in the vats, one at a time in cold blood to be sure none survived. Then he destroyed the facility."

"So that's proof positive all the clones are dead," Daryl said sadly.

"He had to be sure he was thorough because of the consequences of even one getting away."

"So he obviously didn't kill all of them in cold blood; only the ones in the vats."

Mayla shook her head. "The ones he didn't kill in the vat, the rest were face to face in hand to hand combat. Several he did have to hunt down." She took a deep breath. "There's even an interior shuttle video that showed Kindred Dakota trying to escape with her life, and Kyril went in with his katana and gutted her before decapitating her."

He couldn't ever imagine doing that, looking at his CO. "Th-that's brutal."

"That was the reason he had no qualms to fire on Durham. Because he's killed him before."

Daryl kept quiet as the information sank in. Why was she telling him this? He shook his head, slightly with disbelief anyone could do that. Maybe he himself couldn't even do it either. While he looked into his CO's dark lavender eyes, he started thinking whether or not she was capable of doing the same?

Mayla returned the stare. "He's had to live with that experience of killing nearly every single member of Starfleet brass, Starfleet Intelligence, and Shadow Operations who all truly believed they were the originals. When Kyril came back into the Shadow Ops fold, he was a changed man. Many operatives started to hear rumors of what he did, the fact that he was able to kill all of them made them scared of him. More so of what he could do. He certainly had the skills for it."

Daryl's perspective came to realize the amount of killing her father had to do. And the amount of horrible memories of each kill he's had to live with all these years. "It's difficult to live with continuing to see someone you've killed, multiple times."

"It still haunts him sometimes. So in essence, he's already seen all of his comrades die more than once by his hands. To ward against that, he had to be heartless. It made him cold. It took him over a year to finally be able to warm up to Bravo Squad again. It was more difficult for him than he'll admit." She looked at him square in the eye. "So what I'm trying to say is that if you did see Greg, it must be investigated; whether he's a clone, some sort of Changeling violating the Treaty of Bajor, or an agent from the mirror universe. Greg Durham from our universe is dead. You have to come to accept that, as hard as it might be. And if he is any of those others I mentioned, you have to also consider the possibility that you might be one who might have to kill him."

He shook his head at the thought. Then went back to what Greg had said. "He said to forget him. I don't understand why he would say that if he was from the Mirror Universe."

"What did Lazarus say about it?"

Daryl nodded. “He said to leave the matter for now until he had spoken to you about it. That’s all. I guess there’s not much what I can do anyway, since I’m grounded and forbidden to move off ship “ He grumbled.

Mayla kept looking at him. “And did you?”

"Did I what?"

"Leave it alone."

Daryl looked at her. “Yes ma’am, I did.” He wondered if he should mention the conversation he had with McCulloch and his offer to dig into the matter, but since he turned it down and dropped it, he decided against it…

Mayla continued to stare at him to gauge his comment. "The Captain hasn't mentioned anything to me about it yet. But if Sorvek were still here, I would say to trust in Lazarus."

He immediately read between the lines of that comment, considering the comments she made during the meeting with Admiral Clancy. "You don't trust the Admiralty? Not even MacLeod? Not even Lazarus?"

She looked at him in the eye. "I didn't say that, Lieutenant Commander. We all are expected to follow orders. Even if we don't entirely agree with them." She said this last part through slightly gritted teeth. "I believe we need to be cautious and keep our eyes and ears open all the time. You weren't here, but we've all been down this road before with other organizations either trying to undermine us or shut us down. And Lazarus knows this. With Section 31 gone, a void must always be filled. It's just who is filling it is what I'm suspicious about." She ate the last french fry with cheese. "I wouldn't talk to too many people outside the team about this either, because that's how bad rumors start. You don't want people to think you're starting to imagine things...again."

Daryl grinned while he took a sip of his milkshake. His stomach protested, but it tasted too good to waste… “McCulloch and Beckett know. And Darva. I’ll keep it at that,” he promised. "So you're suggesting I lay low for the time being."

She looked at him hard. "Yes. Something more may come of it and will reveal itself to you, or to us." She also took another pull from her milkshake. "We should wait and see."

Daryl let out a sigh, thinking about how he had to sit on the sidelines until somebody gave him permission to investigate just the possibility his friend might still be alive. Or at least in some form. His eyes fell to the spot on the table in front of her chest.

"Are you going to finish that?" he said quietly, eyeing the rest of her buffalo burger. He'd hate to see it go to waste.

She looked down at the half-eaten burger, and then slid it over to him. "I thought you said you were stuffed?"

He looked at the burger, that for some miraculous reason, was still warm. "By tomorrow afternoon, I would have worked it all off. So, I don't mind bingeing on something this good tonight."

"Have at it. But I'm serious about what I said. If someone is manipulating you, we need more to be revealed to realize their true intent. They could be baiting you into some sort of trap."

He gave her a nod and took a big bite out of her burger, savoring the flavor and ignoring his full stomach. He kept what she said about being a trap in the back of his mind, looking at things in a slightly new perspective with his head, and not his nostalgic longing for a friend long dead.

Lt. Cody Beckett

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.11

Beckett fell onto his bed, panting. It was the second day of Jahkar's Iron Man sim. Cody's body hurted in places he never had imagined.

As he caught his breathe again, some minutes later, he stood up and ordered the replicator for a bottle of water and a glass. Then his comm badge chirped. "Beckett, get that wonderful body of yours to the holo deck. Next session is on! " He heard McCulloch's voice. "Yeah yeah, on my way" Beckett replied. He took another gulp from the water in his glass and headed out for another round of pain.

When he arrived at the holo deck, McCulloch and Thompson were already there doing their warming up. Behind them Beckett saw several fighting arena's, manned by Nausican's, Klingons and Hirogen.

Beckett slumped his shoulders. "Really?

We just had a 2-hour workout. "

Thompson grinned "And? When we are in the field we also need to be prepared to fight

after a long track through jungle or whatever. Don't be a wuss" He grabbed a pair of grappling gloves, put them and went for the arena with the Nausican's.

Beckett exhaled, and took also a pair of gloves. McCulloch patted him on the shoulder "Only 28 days left mate, you'll survive"

"That is really motivating, Will" Beckett grumbled in reply as he followed the Scot… .

Commander Mayla Vree

Her quarters, *USS Resurrection* at Spacedock

Stardate 2103.11

She got to an early start to the day after the previous night's burger dinner with Thompson. Her quarters still had a slight smell of buffalo burgers and fries. She hoped he left happy for the day. Because for the time being until their next mission, he was going to be working hard in sims.

For three hours, she sat mulling over data on several screens hovering above her desk. While linked to her AI in her head, she multitasked several different computer systems including those at Spacedock, Trill Traffic Control, and the Sigma Draconis Defense Hub that oversaw all traffic inside the Draconian system.

She was able to get a record and a video of Tylin walking onto a transport at the Majavik Province spaceport. With a little bit more work she was able to extrapolate the name of the transport, it's course, and when it was expected to arrive at Sigma Draconis IV. Scouring through the several planetary systems the transport made stops at to be sure he didn't get off, her search finally ended at Draconis IV.

The Draconian Defense Hub was one of the most advanced planetary system wide sensors. The Federation had to be sure it was well protected as many medical breakthroughs came from Draconis from their centuries of eugenics manipulation and programming. During the Dominion War, the Jem'hadar had sent in a battlecruiser to occupy the system, but Starfleet fought them back and began setting up the defense hub.

The Draconis Docking Hub 4 orbiting above Draconis IV was the transport's final destination. She perused immigration records and videos for the whole day Tylin's transport was supposed to arrive. As she watched ship after ship enter the Draconis Star System, the computer would identify it briefly before moving on to the next ship moving into sensor range.

The name of one ship very briefly flashed besides it's visual identification and then suddenly changed to a different name. If she hadn't been watching at that moment, she wouldn't have even noticed it. She reversed the video and log and played it again concurrently. But just when the name changed, the screen had a burst of static that covered over that moment of the change. She closed her eyes and replayed the image in her mind several times to be sure of the name that she saw.

*USS Bethesda*.

Her eyes popped open at the realization. The ship camouflaged their IFF. It was something her Echo Team did often when their ship ferried them to and from away missions. That's how the ship was able to essentially 'disappear'.

She leaned forward closer to her terminal and queried about the false name *USS Argo*. Draconis computers had it listed in its fleet inventory as currently assigned to Draconis to carry out relief missions. The Bethesda had taken Lady Sirella's child to Draconis IV undercover. No doubt to be studied by the experts there. It made sense. Draconian scientists were the foremost experts in genetics in the Federation. She set up a watchdog for the Argo to notify her if it left Draconis IV. She also had her limited AI in her head to run research queries to track the course path of the *Argo* for the past 2 weeks just to be sure.

She turned her attention back to the real reason she was watching the videos. It took her another two hours before she saw Tylin's transport arrive. She was able to gain access into the Draconis docking hub and watched a surveillance video of Tylin stepping out to the docking station. He sauntered off camera and she lost track of him in the busy space station. She set up several watchdogs in case he leaves the station on a ship headed out of the system.

She was going to have to report her findings about Tiken to the Captain. A message from Lazarus informed her that the Andorian had been inquiring about the whereabouts of the Bethesda in her free time. But now that just by chance, Mayla had discovered it, Sh'avelith could keep an eye on it clandestinely. She tapped a key on her console to open a channel to the Andorian.

"Vree to Sh'avelith, please come to my quarters when you are free. I have something to show you."

Lt. Tiri Sh’aveilth and Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Spacedock

Stardate 2103.11

Sh’avelith returned from Spacedock the next morning and was heading toward her quarters when she received a call from Commander Vree. Report to her quarters? Tiri’s stomach dropped, was she in trouble? The Andorian diverted down the next corridor until she arrived at Mayla’s quarters and she sounded the door chime.

“Come in,” Vree’s voice called.

The door slid open and Tiri stepped inside, standing at attention, “Lt. Sh’avelith reporting as ordered, sir.”

"At ease, Lieutenant." Mayla was standing in front of her wall, which had almost a dozen windows hovering in front of. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Tiri walked over but still stood at attention, slightly nervous to cover up her sleepiness. She hadn't expected to spend the entire night on Spacedock. "What am I looking at?"

Mayla pointed to one group of screens. "Long story short, my brother ran away from home and I was looking for him. I received word that he had gone to Draconis IV. So, I've been reviewing logs and visuals at Draconis Docking Hub 4, and I saw this." She played a surveillance video of an Olympic-class ship approaching the hub. "When this ship appeared on their sensors, just by coincidence I was watching it live, the computer identified it as the *USS Bethesda*. And in a blink, it changed to the *USS Argo*."

"A computer glitch?" She asked, peering closer at the image.

"No, IFF camouflage. Starfleet Intelligence uses it to hide our ships when needed. That's why it seemed to have just disappeared for us. In a computer log, it will just appear as the *Argo*. I just so happened to be watching it live when it happened. Even the visual of the moment has been...interfered with." Mayla brought up the sensor map of the Draconian System. "The *Bethesda* took the child to Draconis IV for study.”

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael

Starfleet Command, San Francisco

Stardate 2103.11

MacLeod and Carmichael had beamed down to Earth and were at Starfleet Command bright and earlier the next morning. The two arrived at Admiral Clancy’s office and were shown in before being led to a conference room.

There, they were met by Clancy, who greeted both officers then sat down at the table and looked at them both with great seriousness.

“I see you couldn’t leave well enough alone?” she asked, glaring at MacLeod. “The commander filled me in about your conversation yesterday.”

MacLeod smiled, “With all due respect, admiral. I think I’m entitled to know why there is a veil of secrecy over the coaxial drive. I understand it is top secret stuff, but Tommy and his team can’t be the only ones with knowledge of this device.”

Clancy sighed, “Ian, this is some very sensitive information.”

“Which Starfleet filled Sorvek in about before *Resurrection* was assigned to Shadow Ops,” said MacLeod. “I read his logs. The classified materials were left out, but the gist of his logs was that Janeway told him the true nature of the coaxial drive and he had reluctantly agreed to accept the ship.”

“That is my understanding for how he reacted,” Clancy said. “I was equally surprised and concerned when I was informed. But, all things considered, I can only offer you this information. The crew will have to remain in the dark.”

MacLeod frowned, hearing what he’d been afraid Clancy was going to tell him, “And what if I consider this coaxial drive to be too dangerous for my people?”

“Then…we’ll find another head of Shadow Operations who is less inclined to have that reaction,” Clancy said firmly.

“The drive is safe, admiral,” Carmichael chimed in beside him. “I guarantee it is fully operation and my team knows how to repair it and keep it running.”

“I have no doubt,” MacLeod said. “So, will someone tell me what is so secretive about this drive?”

Clancy looked to Carmichael and waved him on, “You know the drive best, commander. Tell him what all the secretiveness is about.”

“Let me start at the beginning,” Tommy said, turning to MacLeod. “Twelve years ago, the *USS Congo* happened upon a shipwreck in the Nolstrom Nebula, near the Kressari Kingdom. The wreck was that of an alien vessel no Starfleet ship had ever encountered. The wreck appeared to have been adrift in the nebula for centuries.

“When the *Congo*’s away team investigated, they found the aliens had all died many years before, but the ship contained technology we’d never seen before,” Carmichael explained. “The entire ship was salvaged and brought back to the Utopia Planitia shipyards.

“I was working there as part of the R&D division and was assigned to the project,” Tommy continued. “It was our job to take the derelict ship apart and try retro-engineer it from the keel up.”

MacLeod held up a hand and looked incredulously at Clancy, then back to Carmichael, “Wait…you’re telling me the incredible, revolutionary drive we’re using on Resurrection that can send us anywhere in the blink of an eye is alien technology?”

Clancy smiles, “Oh, it gets better. Commander, continue.”

Carmichael hesitated, gauging MacLeod’s reaction, but then continued, “We worked on the retro-engineering project for years. Project directors came and went, while most of the team and I continued at it, trying to figure out what made this damn ship work.”

“Then the Synthetics held their little uprising on Mars,” Clancy joined in. “The commander’s team was stuck in the middle of the entire mess.”

Carmichael nodded, “Yes. We didn’t have a lot of time. We knew we couldn’t get all of it out, but I made our research and the coaxial drive the priority. We got our hands on a ship, transported the drive and several other key components out, along with the computer core we’d be working from, and escaped with what we could. Starfleet sent us to the Antares Shipyards to continue our work and there we created two prototypes of the alien coaxial drive.”

“There were two failures, according to what I was told,” MacLeod added.

“Yes. Both drives were failures,” Tommy conceded. “We were given three Valiant-class escorts. The first two were destroyed in testing. We just couldn’t get the retro-engineered drive to function properly.”

MacLeod scowled, “Wait…your records…they tell a different story if I remember, about your entire service. You’ve been on this project since you were an ensign, 12 years total, that doesn’t add up to what we were told about you.”

“My predecessor decided it would be a better ruse if Mr. Carmichael’s service record were altered somewhat to conceal the fact he and his team have been at this for more than a decade.”

Ian looked even more disappointed as he glanced back to Tommy, “Continue.”

“So, we were running out of options, Starfleet was getting ready to pull the plug on the project and give up on trying to make it work, so I had the original alien drive put back together and installed in the last Valiant-class test ship we had,” Carmichael said. “When we did, something happened. The drive fused itself into the ship and…well…it worked. The coaxial drive somehow melded with the ship and its systems. It was almost like some sort of adaptive material in the drive unit itself that allows it to be integrated into any vessel.”

MacLeod looked at him skeptically, “You put some unknown alien tech into a Starfleet ship, and it integrated itself into that vessel and worked perfectly? Yet, you don’t know how or why or whether this is going to last or not?”

“Like I said, it gets better,” Clancy smiled.

MacLeod leaned toward Tommy and gave him a cold stare, “So Janeway signed off on this, gives the ship to us because why? Because we’re a bunch of dumb grunts who need a ship that can get us from point A to point B quickly? Shouldn’t this ship be out exploring space? Or better yet, shouldn’t you be doing more testing? Figure out how to replicate it so you can make a fleet of ships that jump instantly anywhere in the universe?”

“With the drive fused to *Resurrection*, clearly not an exploratory vessel, there is little more use for it than testing or rapid deployment,” said Carmichael. “They put my team and I here so it could be used for both applications. Rapid deployment for your team and testing for us.”

MacLeod rolled his eyes and shook his head, “So the Shadow Ops team are a bunch of bloody guinea pigs?”

“Ian, please, I had a similar reaction, but the commander’s findings so far indicate the drive is fully functional and there are no plans to send you anywhere the ship’s backup warp drive couldn’t bring you home from,” Clancy said. “The drive is safe. But it needs to be kept secret. If our enemies…hell…if even our allies find out we have it, they’re going to want it.”

“Why of course they will,” MacLeod bristled. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of technology that can send your attack fleet anywhere in the galaxy? This whole thing is dangerous. The risk from the drive alone is a danger. What if we’re on a mission and that bloody thing craps out. We end up in an asteroid, or a sun or on the other side of the galaxy and we can’t get back?”

Clancy sighed, “I’m asking you to continue with the use of the drive on *Resurrection*. Carmichael will continue as chief engineer with his team supporting him?”

“What about Reepchip?” MacLeod asked. “He knows something up. They’re Carnora but they aren’t bloody stupid. And then there’s the Madcaps. We’re recruiting them to run Shadow Ops R&D. They will likely be around Resurrection.”

MacLeod paused with an afterthought, then snapped his head toward Tommy, “Hell, what are you doing to disguise that alien drive? I’ve been in engineering; it looks like Federation tech.”

“It’s a façade, admiral,” Carmichael said. “We’ve encased the drive unit in what appears to be Starfleet technology. But it’s just a cover.”

MacLeod shook his head and turned back to Clancy for an answer.

“I know this will be hard, but Reepchip and the rest of the team cannot know,” Clancy said. “The Carnora are especially curious about our technology. In fact, we have some concerns about the Carnora leadership and what exactly they want out of the exchange program that has Ryramorl and Reepchip serving with you.”

“You think they may be spying?” MacLeod asked. “Allies spying on allies?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said. “Give Reepchip duties that don’t put him around the drive. There are other engineering duties he can perform. If he wants, put him on the station with these Madcap Engineers just to get him off the ship.”

MacLeod frowned, but lacked the high ground to argue. She was right. The Carnora were exceptionally curious and they were a species who were already in space well before their time. Giving them too much access to tech was not a good idea.

“Very well, but I don’t like any of this, for the record,” MacLeod told her. “Do you know how Sorvek received all of this information?”

Carmichael cleared his throat, “He believed the drive would permit Shadow Ops to do its job more efficiently than ever before, making it an acceptable risk.”

“I knew you’d say something like that,” MacLeod muttered. “Is that all? Or do you wish to drop anything else on me today?”

Clancy smiled, “I think that will be all today, admiral. Dismissed.”

On the way back to the transporters, the two were quiet most of the way there until MacLeod turned to Carmichael and gave him a wry look. “*Resurrection*…it has many meanings, doesn’t it? For Shadow Ops it was the resurrection of the program.”

Carmichael nodded, “For me it was the resurrection of the coaxial drive project.”

“You named it, I take it?” MacLeod asked.

“I sure did,” Carmichael smiled. He then looked to MacLeod as the two stepped up onto the transporter pad. “Sir, I promise, I’ll keep that drive working and the crew will be safe.”

MacLeod turned toward Tommy and poked a finger hard into the engineer’s chest, “You’d better, commander, or you’ll be the one needing resurrection, understood?”

As they were enveloped in the transporter beam, their molecules beginning to swirl in light, Carmichael nodded and gave a faint smile, “Loud and clear, admiral.”

Back to top

## S3, E3, Act 4: Around Umbra Prime (extended edition)

Lt. First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral

Ambassador Holder of the Name Ryramorl in the Yarman Delta Tribe of Ra’yral

Spaceport

Stardate 2103.16

As Ryramorl walked through the spaceport, he heard a greeting roar.  Turning, he smiled a bit as he saw other Olverns, including one in elaborate robes and approached the group.  The two greeted each other, then the leader of the group bared his throat in submission, and Ryramorl touched his tusk to it in dominance.

“Holder of the Name Ryramorl in the Yarman Delta Tribe of Ra’yral,” he said.

“First Elder Name Ryramorl in our La’an Tribe,” responded the ambassador, spreading his webbed hands.  “I am honored beyond words by the presence of the Ra’yral La’an, and that one would deign to ack--”

Lieutenant Ryramorl held up his paw. “Holder Ryramorl Yarman Delta, you’re sounding like a Muran on all fours,” he admonished. “Swat a La’an, he bleeds like any other Olvern.  And besides, you know that our High Chief fully accepts the Coastals, hybrids or not.  May I ask who accompanies you.”

“Apologies, Ryramorl La’an, I’ve been dealing with the Federation for the past two years.  They tend to rub off.”  The ambassador introduced his wife, offspring, and aides, and Ryramorl greeted them.  As Elder Name Ryramorl La’an walked with them, Holder Ryramorl Yarman Delta chatted with him about how things were going with the Federation, including the failure of the Ataran who wanted to enter Starfleet Academy.  “The Federation is getting suspicious of us, I think,” he said.  He then took a deep breath.  “Honored La’an, I have a question for you,” he said.

“Ask,” said Elder Name Ryramorl La’an.

“Had you any idea that the Overseer would be at Sorvek’s funeral?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “No.  I was as surprised as anyone.”

“I was asked about his presence, and I had trouble convincing them I didn’t know he would be there.  The Federation leaders actually seemed angry.”

“I’m not surprised,” responded Elder Name Ryramorl La’an. “They were probably just as upset about Zarza Horlasavarsavar showing up as well. There’s an official narrative to the Federation’s First Contact with the Carnora.”

“And neither Zarza nor The Overseer play any role?” the ambassador asked.

The La’an shook his head. “Nor did Sorvek. I can’t give out all the details, but what they found is as bad for us as where they found it is for them. It was pretty touchy on all sides, and the Overseer showing up is likely to cause some uncomfortable questions.“

Ambassador Ryramorl Ra’yral shook his head. “I honor the Overseer as much as any Carnora, but this isn’t the first time he’s done something foolish.”

“And he’ll be the first to say so,” agreed Lieutenant Ryramorl.

There was an announcement calling for the Carnora Ambassador, and the Lieutenant wished them all well. He headed to a transporter. It was time to return to the ship anyways.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.16

Will looked at his choice of opponents and decided to spar with the four Hirogen in a sparring area adjacent to where Thompson was fighting Nausicaans.

“We’re fighting the Hirogen?” Beckett complained openly.

“I’ve only read about their species from declassified reports. It will be a nice change up for us.” Will countered.

“You are an unworthy prey.” The largest of the Hirogen announced as he and his holographic companions started to move towards Beckett and McCulloch’s flanks.

“I believe this prey was recently beaten by his former mate.” Another hissed.

McCulloch cocked his head in surprise and then turned towards Thompson. “Did you hack into the program?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Daryl yelled as he drove his knee up into the chest of his Nausicaan opponent.

“This Hirogen just called me unworthy because my ex- ooof!”

As the Scot complained about the holograph’s comment, another quickly closed the distance and drove his forearm across McCulloch’s jaw. McCulloch spun and landed hard on the ground. Seconds later, two more descended upon Cody.

As Will struggled to his knees, he brought his hand up to his mouth and then examined it. The Hirogen had drawn blood. McCulloch slowly smiled and gestured for the pair to advance. As the first dove towards the Scot, Will rolled to the left and brought himself up to his feet. He quickly drove his palm up and into the second Hirogen’s nose, causing him to blindly stumble backwards.

McCulloch turned back towards the first Hirogen, who was attempting to get on McCulloch’s flank. The Scot looked to his right and saw the other was rushing back towards him. Will stepped slightly back as the second Hirogen passed him and kicked him square in the back. The assailant stumbled and then collapsed into the first, causing the pair to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

The Scot looked over towards Beckett, who appeared to be holding his own against the two Hirogen he was fighting.

McCulloch advanced towards the pair and drove his elbow into the neck of the one closest to him. The second quickly sprung to his feet and kicked downward against the Scot’s left knee. Will grunted in pain as he collapsed to the ground. The two Hirogen regrouped, looked at each other and resumed the attack from two different sides.

Will kicked outward to the left and connected with the ankle of the first Hirogen. As he stumbled to the side, the Scot rolled and drove his right knee up into the second’s leg...causing the assailant to fall face forward onto the floor. As McCulloch and the two Hirogen all pulled themselves up, the Scot reached behind the knee of the Hirogen closest to him and pulled the leg forward, causing his opponent to flip backwards onto the ground.

Suddenly, the Scot felt a sharp pain in the lower left section of his back. His breath shortened and he felt his legs start to spasm. Beckett looked over at McCulloch with concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked McCulloch as he fought off his own attackers.

The Scot cursed for a moment as he retreated slightly from the Hirogen. “I threw out my back!”

“You what?” Cody demanded.

“I threw out my &\*^\*ing back!”

Unfortunately for McCulloch, the pair of Hirogen also heard him, smiled at each other and then moved in to finish off their prey.

Lt. Cody Beckett

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.16

Beckett evaded a series of attacks from one of the Hirogen, moving sideways away from the other Hirogen who was trying to circle around him so he could attack him from behind. As he saw McCulloch suddenly limping, he nearly took a blow to the head from the Hirogen in front of him. He locked the arm of the Hirogen, turned around, and threw the Hirogen over his shoulder with all the power he had, smashing him onto the floor, and, while still holding the arm into a lock, turned around his axis, dislocating it. The Hirogen grunted, and tried to get up and slam Cody into the ground. But Cody was faster and finished him off by releasing the arm and kicking the Hirogen full frontal with all the might he had into his head. The head of the Hirogen was slammed backwards, then he slumped to the floor.

Immediately he felt how he was grabbed by the other Hirogen from behind, lifted from the floor and thrown into the elastic ropes of the ring. He smacked hard onto the ring's floor and as Cody tried to get up, the Hirogen was already closing in, and Cody saw a glimpse of McCulloch being pummeled by the 2 Hirogen. He cursed and got up as the Hirogen closed the distance and wanted to grab Cody again. Cody evaded and punched the Hirogen hard in the ribs with a hook, followed by more punches on the face and upper body, just to gain a bit of distance.

The Hirogen was a formidable fighter, and blocked most of the attacks. He was trying to wear Cody out. Cody didn't give up and raised up a notch with his attacks, driving the Hirogen back slowly. But he couldn't hold this up. For long, so he decided to switch tactics. He threw in front moves randomly, and for a short moment, he attacked faster. Then suddenly, as the Hirogen tried to block an attack with his arm, Cody grabbed the arm with his hand, turned it around outwards amd slammed as hard as he could with his elbow on the muscles of the Hirogens's elbowjoint.

The Hirogen yelped and was yerked forwards, his jaw meeting Cody's elbow again. The jaw cracked, and the Hirogen stumbled backwards, trying to keep in balance. Cody immediately followed up with a frontal kick in the chest, and the Hirogen tumbled backwards, landing flat on his back. Cody leaped forward and knocked the Hirogen out, as he tried to get up, with a series of blows to the face. Within seconds, the Hirogen slumped on the floor, unconscious. Cody turned around, checking how McCulloch did, who just got a knee kicked hard in his ribs.

Cody leaped towards the Hirogen that was closest near him, who was about to give McCulloch another pummeling. The Hirogen was surprised as his legs were sweeped away and he smacked into the floor. Cody jumped over him, pulling McCulloch on his feet. The remaining Hirogen grimaced, and moved towards them….

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.16

Will looked at Cody as he rose to his feet. The pair of Hirogen had worked him over badly. The Scot’s back was throbbing and the muscles of his legs and upper body repeatedly spasmed. He felt sharp pains shoot up his chest as he took in breaths and he was a bit light headed. Nevertheless, McCulloch knew that to regain the trust of his superiors he had to suck it up and press forward.

Both Beckett and McCulloch took defensive stances as the remaining Hirogen advanced.

“Suggestions?” Cody asked McCulloch as he watched his opponent start to move towards his left flank.

“You go low, I’ll go high.” Will suggested. Beckett nodded in agreement as the Hirogen let out a deep throated cry and rushed the pair. As he closed in, Cody crouched low, spun and swept the Hirogen’s feet from under him. As he fell to the right, McCulloch stepped forward and drove his forearm upward into his opponent’s neck and jaw. There was a loud “crack” as the Hirogen fell to the floor of the arena with a thud and remained motionless.

Seconds later, the training simulation ended. Will collapsed onto the ground and rolled onto his back. Every part of his body from his knees to his headache.

“You OK Will?” Beckett asked as he stood over the Scot.

“Nothing that the EMH can’t fix.” Will replied as he winced in pain. After a moment he pulled himself back to his knees and eventually stood up.

As Thompson, Beckett and McCulloch hobbled their way towards the exit, Daryl loudly inquired “Shall we come back for more sparring this afternoon?”

McCulloch grunted in agreement.

As the trio passed sickbay, the Scot announced he would catch up to Beckett and Thompson shortly. He peeled off and entered sickbay. Instantly, the EMH materialized and stated “Please declare the nature of...oh, it’s you again. Let me guess, more Klingons?”

“Hirogen.”

“Ah, and how did this fight go?” The EMH demanded as he directed the Scot towards an empty biobed.

“Almost as well as the last one with the Klingons.”

“Next time don’t fight on your back.”

McCulloch studied the EMH as he tried to contain a smirk. “I promise I won’t.”

“Not a word to Commander Vree?” The holographic doctor asked as he scanned the Scot.

“Not a word.” McCulloch ordered.

“You have two broken ribs; a fractured orbital bone and half your muscles are in spasm.”

“Can you patch me up?”

“I can but the question is should I? Perhaps you should consider a career in something less...physical.”

“Where were you weeks ago when I made the decision to return?” McCulloch retorted.

“Fortunately, I was probably busy doing something else.” The EMH replied as he injected Will with a hypospray. “This will relax your muscles and numb the pain.”

The Scot instantly felt much better … he was relaxed and didn’t have a care in the world. As the EMH tended to his injuries, McCulloch continued the conversation.

“Can I get a couple of those hypo sprays injections to go?”

“Absolutely not. Ask again and I’ll send you back to the Hirogen.”

“Well, at least keep a couple of those on standby as I’m going back to sparring this afternoon.”

“Are you trying to keep me in business Lieutenant Commander?” the EMH demanded as he repaired the Scot’s orbital bone.

“Perhaps.”

As the EMH finished repairing Will’s orbital bone, he scanned the Lieutenant Commander again before turning his attention to repairing the Scot’s ribs. He scanned McCulloch’s clavicle bones and studied the results momentarily before addressing his patient.

“Did someone recently...throat punch you repeatedly?” The EMH asked. There was almost a hint of confusion in his voice.

“Just before Sorvek’s funeral. How did you know?”

“You have a hairline fracture on your clavicle bone. Your assailant must have missed the throat and struck bone instead. Would you like me to repair it?”

Will thought back to the encounter with Victoria on Vulcan. He had never known her to be that aggressive or so well trained in close quarter combat. Then again, he hadn’t encountered her in over a decade. For a moment he smiled as he thought about how his former wife was likely trying to break his neck.

“Fix it.” The Scot announced after a moment of silence. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the effects of the hypospray. He knew the respite was temporary as he was going to return to the fray of heavy training sooner rather than later.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael

Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Ryramorl returned to the ship shortly before Admiral MacLeod and Lt. Commander Carmichael did; the Olvern Carnora was still in the transporter room when the two humans arrived.

Reepchip was already waiting for the admiral and lieutenant commander to arrive.  When Carmichael saw Reepchip he shrugged.  “I’m sorry, ensign, but my orders remain that the coaxial drive is off-limits to everyone except my team,” he said.

Reepchip chittered and sighed.  “I understand, sir.”

Admiral MacLeod looked at the Muran.  “If you want, I can give you other engineering duties.  I can even reassign you to the rest of the MadCaps in R&D, if you want.”

Reepchip chittered again, glancing at Ryramorl; he didn’t really want to be separated from the only other Carnora in Shadow Operations, though there was also the prospect of working with the other MadCaps...

Ryramorl pondered.  “If I may speak plainly, Admiral?”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you considered having Colonel Jahkar drill Reepchip as a scout?  He is small, so he can hide easily, his climbing abilities are second to none on the team, with his engineering skills, he can pick most locks and bypass security systems, and his hearing is known to be excellent.”

“Tell me about it,” grumbled Carmichael.

Ryramorl hid a smile--knowing Reepchip’s sense of humour, he could only imagine what the Muran had pulled.  “Even more, Reepchip is a telepath, if only a mild one right now.  That could prove invaluable.”

“But will that keep him busy?” asked Carmichael.

“Tell Jahkar that you’re trying to keep Reepchip occupied, and I’m sure he’ll teach the Academy how to keep a Muran out of mischief.”  A Carnora grin was NOT a comforting expression.

Reepchip’s ears went flat at the thought, remembering how Starfleet Academy had academically run him off his feet after he tried to hack into the Academy EMH.  He thought about it.  “I could be your scout, if you want, sir,” he said.

MacLeod nodded, “Not a bad idea. I’d rather we discuss it in a meeting with Commander Vree and Colonel Jahkar. I’ll advise them and get back with you.”

The two Carnora nodded and saluted him.

Commander Mayla Vree

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection* at Spacedock

Stardate 2103.17

Mayla looked at the dead hirogen and shook her head slightly. But thought against saying anything about it. At first.

"I see that look on your face," Jahkar said, still strolling around looking at the aftermath of Beckett, Thompson, and McCulloch's latest holosim. "You disapprove."

"Your hirogen sims are wrong."

"Got it straight from the declassified files," he said, stopping at one and toed the dead body.

Mayla lifted her hand and a holodeck panel appeared in the air in front of her. "Hirogen are rarely without their armor and helmet, especially in a fight. And…" she shook her head. "Why do they even declassify this when the information is all wrong?"

Jahkar scoffed. "How can you know it's wrong?" He stopped and then looked at her keenly. "Have you seen one before?"

"Kyril has." She simply said, replacing the holodeck profile of a hirogen with the one in her father's sim profiles. "Large, heavily armored warriors, bred to be hunters. Highly adaptive, bold strategists, and massively brutal."

"May I ask how he saw one?"

"Sick joke by an omniscient being called Q. Flung the Intruder into the Delta Quadrant, forced the team to be hunted without their energy weapons to save a species the Hirogen was going to wipe out in a hunt. Thompson was there, he should know better. The Team won in the end in hand-to-hand combat with them. It wasn't easy. Took some serious injuries."

Jahkar also shook his head just as she changed the parameters. "They're in for a surprise if they run this program again." He pointed over to McCulloch's last position. "What did you think of that?"

She glanced over to where he was pointing to. "He lowered the safeties too far. The infirmary logs say he injured his back, amongst other injuries."

"If this was for real, he could have broken his back."

"Or killed." She swiped away the holodeck panel. They had watched through each sim since the trio began their holosim marathons.

"Maybe he's too old for this job. It looks like he's trying too hard...to prove something?" Jahkar walked over to stand beside her. "He's going to need physical conditioning."

"He needs to train for it, not…" she gestured to the field of dead holograms, "...a cage match. At least not yet. You can't apply technique and strategy if you don't have the tools."

"His temperament?" Jahkar inquired.

"Maybe. He might benefit from some Dragon Palm training."

"That takes years, if not decades."

"Just an introduction and lower levels. I'm no grand master, but I found it useful to attain at least one level of the martial art. It'll teach him to focus on an open, calm mind during combat and utilize whatever the environment has. It might even help when he's not in a fight."

"You want him to meditate his enemies away?" Jahkar smiled.

"That would be something, wouldn't it? Close your eyes and your enemies go away." Mayla took another look around.

The ship lurched to one side. "Seems like we're leaving Spacedock." Jahkar said, looking at the hirogen again. He'll need to run through the program himself to get a feel of the updated hirogen specifications. "How about a quick run through this sim so I know what they'll be up against?"

Mayla looked up at him and just gave him a nod. "Why not, it'll take us a few hours to get to Saturn."

The two gave each other a nod as they had the computer beam in their weapons of choice from their lockers. The program restarted.

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.17

Jahkar and Vree finished the sim and he had to admit, the modification’s Mayla made raised the difficulty considerably. Jahkar was impressed. He had not known about the Intruder’s encounter with the real Hirogen some years earlier. They were certainly an impressive foe, one Jahkar would like to fight someday.

After Mayla left, Jahkar stood in the empty holodeck going over data from the morning Ironman run and saw that McCulloch was doing well, despite age and conditioning. While he seemed to be pushing himself, the results were beginning to show and that’s what mattered.

As long as the Scot didn’t end up killing himself in the process.

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.17

The Andorian walked into the holodeck and found Jahkar there reading over a data PADD. He looked up and saw Tiri dressed in a running suit, carrying along a bag of gear.

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, “I’m finished here lieutenant if you want to run a program.”

Tiri set down the bag and began to do stretches, “I hope you don’t mind; I’ve been running the Ironman training sims you’ve got the guys doing.”

Jahkar looked a little surprised and quickly checked a file on his PADD. It showed she’d been accessing it multiple times, sometimes after hours, for a couple of days.

“No...by all means. What prompted that?” he asked.

Tiri shrugged as she continued to stretch. “I don’t know. It sounded like a challenge so I wanted to do it too.”

Jahkar laughed, “You realize that sim is supposed to be punishment for the three of them?”

“I know,” Tiri nodded. “So... if I complete the training sims to your satisfaction, can I run the race with Thompson, Beckett and McCulloch?”

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.17

Jahkar seemed a little surprised, but slowly he nodded, “Sure, but you know traditionally there is an Ironwoman competition, separate from the men.”

Tiri crossed her arms across her chest and gave the Marine an annoyed look, “It’s the late 24th century, colonel, I would think we’d be past that sort of thing in this day and age.”

Jahkar understood, however there wwe still two races held, one for males and another for females -- though since the mid-21st century, when the race was started back up following the Third World War on Earth, it established two races but made them open to anyone who wanted to participate.

He did not want to be the one to suggest the “female” race, simply because the course was somewhat easier. He got the sense Tiri would be offended if he did.

“OK. Well, from this point forward our race will be called the Ironperson race,” Jahkar said. “You can participate. You can even run through the training sims with the…. guys...if you want.”

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Holodeck, *USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.19

Tiri smiled and nodded, “Thanks colonel.”

She then finished her stretches, initiated the training simulation and the tropical paradise of Hawaii from Earth appeared around them. Tiri then sprinted off along a path leading her into the jungle until she disappeared from the Marine’s sight.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.19

Resurrection approached Saturn and entered the rings of the massive gas giant planet. Lazarus sat in the captain’s chair on the bridge and watched the holographic display of the planet and its rings of ice and rock in the forward portion of the bridge.

“I have Outpost Umbra Prime on sensors,” Lt. Dahrt reported from the tactical station.

“On screen,” Lazarus commanded.

The holographic display showing Saturn then turned to an image of the small space station, tucked neatly inside the rings of the gas giant. Lazarus studied the display and gave a slow nod, “Inform Phoenix Squad and bring us in at one third impulse. Tell the station to prepare to receive us.”

Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.19

By the time she reached the Bridge, the *Resurrection* was already approaching the underside of one of three circular habitat pods that jutted out from a central spine. She slowly made her way to her usual standing position by the tactical station where she could see all the bridge stations and still be out of the way. As she leaned up against the bulkhead, Lieutenant Darht gave her a nod of greeting.

"Welcome tuh our new home, Commanduh," he said quietly, letting his Iotian accent from ancient New York Earth roam free. "Ugly lookin' ting."

Mayla scoffed. "Ugly or not, it's our home for a while. Get used to it. Maybe you'll find some beauty in it."

"That'll be de day." He smirked and shook his head as the details of the station came clearer in the video feed.

"Helm, do we have handshake with the docking bay controls yet?" Lazarus' voice boomed.

"Aye, but they are sporadic. I'm receiving the raw data though…" Lieutenant Commander Revu said with a slight hesitation.

"Can you manually get us through the holographic field?" Lazarus queried, giving the back of Revu's head the eye.

"I can."

"See to it then. You have the perimeter parameters, just ease her up in between the coordinates and then let the tractor beams take over once we're inside."

"Sir," Commander Sornax interjected. "Docking control is informing us that the tractor beams in our bay aren't online yet."

Lazarus turned to him with irritation. "Did you tell them we're expected? How do they expect us to dock this ship in our docking bay without the tractor beams or a clear handshake to keep us from crashing into the walls? There's not a whole lot of space in there." He looked at the habitat pod that was not much bigger than the Resurrection.

Sornax looked at his console and then shook his head. "They said, and I quote, 'Very carefully.'"

The Captain's face turned a slight shade of red. "When I find out who that is, he and I are going to have a few words." He banged his fist on his chair with frustration. "Helm, can you do it or not?"

Revu turned in his chair. "I will try, sir."

"The hell you will." He turned to Sornax. "Get Commander Vree up here."

Sornax turned his head towards the tactical station where Mayla was standing. "She's already here, sir."

Lazarus looked around the bridge until he located her. "Commander Vree, take the helm and get us docked."

"I've never docked here before." Mayla said, stepping over to the center chair.

"It's just like EpSeven," he simply said.

Mayla took a deep breath and nodded, remembering back when her father used to dock the Intruder through a holographic field into a hidden docking bay specifically created for the small Defiant-class ship. Just like this one. And Lazaus knew she had those memories and 'inherited' experiences.

She walked over to the helm and Revu sheepishly stood up and just gave her a smile. "Just watch me and I'll talk it through," she said as she rearranged the console templates for docking maneuvering data. While docking, warp engine and coaxial drive controls obviously weren't needed. She opened a few new screens and explained what each one was to Revu. She smiled when he took a padd out from his pocket and started taking notes.

On one screen with the raw data of sensor readings coming from the perimeter of the bay doors, the calculations she did in her head gave them a small margin for error on either side and ends of the Resurrection. If the Resurrection was just 10% larger, it would be scraping the walls and hitting the ceiling.

"This indicator here is important," she pointed to one for docking bay status. "That tells you the internal bay doors are opened. With the ship's proximity sensor alarms and safeties disabled, you should always be sure of the doors status before you attempt any maneuvers. This other indicator tells you that the docking port is armed and ready to receive."

As she talked, she had maneuvered the ship into the correct position and alignment underneath the center of the habitat pod before coming to a full stop. The raw data was still coming in, but was sporadic. She made note of the direction the docking port inside was at, which was lined up with the spine of the station. Usually, she would use the close proximity sensors on the *Resurrection*, but with the holographic field currently on, the sensors would just be reflected back. It was part of the design so the hologram of the station's hull couldn't be scanned for nor detected, in essence, camouflaging the docking bay opening.

"You can make all that out from reading the raw data?"

"I'm not reading all of the raw data, I'm just reading what I need," she said. "After you make sure all of the sensor readings and your positioning is correct, you now know the ship is in the pocket." She let her hand hover over the manual thrusters for the underside of the ship. "Then you hold your breath and hope all the sensor data you're receiving is correct."

She tapped on the vertical thrusters for a second and the *Resurrection* rose slowly closer towards the station's hull, and then through it. Once they were completely through, she activated the top thrusters to bring the ship to a stop, aligning it slowly with the docking port that was already immediately in front of them.

"At this point, you can start breathing again when you've got the ship stopped. The docking port is right in front of us. That sensor data is coming up right here," she pointed to another screen. "Now you just use the visual hud and align the ship. Nudge the ship forward until contact as you normally would." She tapped the rear thrusters for a quick burst and the front of the *Resurrection* docked solid with the docking port. She started shutting down all of the propulsion systems and locked out the maneuvering controls; the first order of business. The helmsman on duty wouldn't want to 'accidentally' maneuver the ship while it's docked. "The port umbilical handshake is confirming lock. The ship is docked. And helm controls are locked."

"What's the clearance around us?" Lazarus said. "They altered this entire habitat pod specifically for us to dock and have our own space here."

Mayla looked over at the sensor screens that were now active again. "About 11 meters all around."

"They really did make it just large enough to fit us," Sornax said. "I hope they get those tractor beam emitters online soon."

Lazarus let out a grunt. "I'll make them."

Ensign Aaron Turner

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.21

Aaron Turner was here with the other MadCaps.  They were assigned to R&D, but right now they were helping get Umbra Prime ready.  He was in Docking Control, and winced as he got word that the *USS Resurrection* was already approaching.  He looked at the tractor beams--which weren’t operational yet.  He sent a message to the *Resurrection*.  “Umbra Prime to Resurrection.  Please be advised that the tractor beam emitters for your bay are not online yet.  You will have to dock very carefully.”  He wasn’t being facetious--the Madcaps had been introduced to many different types of technology, and, in their last year, had been allowed to go to the Outer Antevas system on one of Reepchip’s visits home.  It was there they learned that Carnora stations didn’t have tractor beams at all and were so primitive that they simulated gravity with spin of all things, so anyone docking with one of those stations really had to know what they were doing..  Then again, anyone piloting an old-style Carnora ship really had to know what they were doing, period..

Before long he felt the slight shudder of a ship docking with the station.  He knew he was likely to hear plenty from Captain Lazarus or Commander Vree. Ryramorl Ra’yral

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.21

After his visit to sick bay, McCulloch made his way to the mess hall where he joined Beckett and Thompson for a quick bite.

Will felt the Resurrection vibrate as it connected with Umbra Prime’s docking clamps. He briefly held onto his drink of water and only let go once he was certain the docking process had finished.

“Well, I guess we’re home.” Beckett announced with a slight sense of trepidation.

“Worst case the station is infested with murderous alien lifeforms that will relentlessly hunt us for food.” McCulloch countered.

Thompson looked at Culloch with a big grin. “That would be awesome”

McCulloch stared at Thompson a few seconds before replying. “Sometimes I think you are stir crazy, Thompson. “ he replied. Thompson snickered in return.

“Well I suppose we should get ready to transfer over.” Thompson suggested as the trio stood up from their table, collected their belongings and proceeded to leave the mess hall.

“I suppose you had better things to do?” Daryl asked Will.

“Not really, I was probably going to practice some target shooting but I suppose it can wait.” Will replied. Admittedly, he was quite curious to see the interior of the station and what was in store for the team.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.22

Reepchip had entered the mess hall for something to eat, and heard Thompson’s remark about creatures hunting them and decided to play a little prank.  Eyeing the ceiling and the pattern, he scrambled up the wall and made his way towards them across the ceiling.  Telekinesis gave him a slightly stronger grip at his fingertips and toetips as he gripped the mouldings in the ceiling.  When he was right over the trio he said, “No…  worst case is they’ll play catch and release first--just to spice things up.”  He waited to see how long it would take McCulloch to look up and see the grinning Muran.

Such sharp teeth in that grin…

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.23

McCulloch looked up and cursed as he saw Reepchip staring down at him with a large grin. The Scot shook his head in disbelief as he regained his composure. He recognized the ensign from their previous encounter when McCulloch had first arrived on board the Resurrection.

“Son of a …” Beckett started to mutter as he looked up at the Muran.

“He really is full of surprises.” Thompson noted quietly.

“Ensign,” McCulloch announced with a tone of authority, “the last I checked I outranked you. Come down for the ceiling...now.”

Reepchip’s smile quickly disappeared as he leaped down from the ceiling and stood before McCulloch.

“In fact.” The Scot continued as he gestured towards Beckett and Thompson, “I believe we all out rank you. Do you think it’s wise to be pulling pranks on officers that could easily report you for insubordination?”

Reepchip stared at the Scot, trying to determine if McCulloch was serious or joking. Will answered the question for him as he stepped closer towards the Muran and scowled at him. “Perhaps I should put you on report Ensign.”

The Muran looked at Beckett and Thompson who merely stared at him in cold silence. The quiet and tense standoff became more uncomfortable until McCulloch snorted and the trio started to laugh. He slapped Reepchip on the shoulder and laughed loudly.

“I’m sorry Ensign, I had to try something as that was the second time you pulled a prank on me.”

“Honestly, he startled the hell out of me.” Beckett conceded as he looked up at the ceiling and then back at the Muran.

“Well done Ensign.” McCulloch announced as he bowed slightly in deference towards the Muran. After a brief pause, the Scot cleared his throat and tapped his comm badge. “Transporter room, lock onto the isolinear tag and transport the target to the coordinates embedded in the device.”

Seconds later Reepchip was enveloped in a blue light and disappeared from the mess hall with a squeak of surprise. Thompson let out a low whistle before asking “What the heck did you do?”

Will looked over at Daryl. “I’ve been looking for payback since he tried one of his telepathic tricks on me after I arrived onboard the Resurrection. When I patted him on the shoulder I attached an isolinear tag to him.”

“Where is he now?” Beckett asked with a tone of concern as the trio left the mess hall.

“Damned if I know.” Will countered. “All I know is he was transported to some random sublevel of a sublevel onboard Umbra Prime.”

“He’ll seek payback.” Thompson noted.

“I hope so, the little guy is growing on me.” Will replied matter-of-factly.

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Ensign Aaron Turner

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.22

As Phoenix Squad disembarked, Aaron could see Captain Lazarus coming straight for Docking Control, and so steeled himself at attention, causing the Captain to home in on him.

Lazarus saw one of the Madcaps...Turner he believed the name to be. As he approached the young man he waved off his near salute, “At ease. Give me a report, ensign. How is the refit going?”

“It’s going steady, sir.  Also, apologies for not having the tractor beam emitters online yet; getting them operational is taking longer than expected.”

“Carry on,” Lazarus told him. He then joined Admiral MacLeod, who led him on to the facilities within the station that would serve as his office.

Aaron and the rest of his team got to work on the tractor beam emitters.

Commander Mayla Vree

Umbra Prime, Sol System

Stardate 2103.23

Mayla stepped out of the way for a convoy of pallets on silent antigrav platforms to go by on their way to their locations on deck 2 of habitat pod 3. She could see the containers labeled to their various destinations; command center, armory, gym, holodecks, and weapons storage.

The construction engineers' first order of business for the station was the *Resurrection*'s docking bay in what used to be habitat pod 2. Nearly all of the center radius portion of the pod had been hollowed out to make just enough space for the small ship.

She had been on her way to her new quarters when she decided to just take a stroll through deck 2 of habitat pod 3, their Command deck, to get a feel of the place. All of the Phoenix Squad's requirements, the command center, gym, training holodecks, armory, weapons storage, and personal workspaces, would all be here. Currently, many of the walls and rooms were removed to accommodate the new layout required by Phoenix Squad. Lazarus had been working around the clock organizing the layout of their dedicated deck ever since Admiral Clancy's announcement. In actuality, there was nothing to look at at the moment. She was only in the way. She retreated back to the turbolift and went up to deck 1, following a constantly updated map in her eyes to her designated quarters.

The second order of business for the engineers was to construct Phoenix Squad's quarters on deck 1. Upon receiving orders, they were arriving, the space was quickly emptied out and set up for quarters for the team. While *Resurrection* crew members took quarters with the station's personnel, Lazarus retained quarters with the team and quarters in the center hub with the rest of the station's brass along with Admiral MacLeod. Even though the engineers worked around the clock, only the inside of the quarters were completely closed off and finished with furnishings. While outside their quarters only had external framing installed in the corridors. The rest of the still empty deck would be filled with their mess hall, and recreational spaces. The windowed dome in the center of the pod would be a nice lounge area. But all of this was a luxury, and this area would stay empty until deck 2 was completed.

She walked into her quarters, surprised to see the size of it. It was easily several times larger than her quarters on the *Resurrection*. In fact, it looked as large as the quarters she lived in as a child. For some reason, this one also had two bedrooms. She checked her billet assignment and looked at the label outside her door. It was correct.

The quarters had been refurbished and updated with new replicators and the newest model sonic shower. Even the large desk was barren of anything except for a few panels that hid many of the features of it. Above were the holographic sensors to project video screens into the air.

She noticed there was a closed door to a second room she mistakenly thought was another bedroom. When she opened it, to her surprise it was a small personal holodeck. She had her own holodeck? She let out a laugh while thinking what she would use it for while there were going to be holodecks in the rec area. She wondered if everyone else's quarters had one, or just her, and maybe the captain?

She went into the bedroom and put her duffel bag down on a chair at the foot of the bed. She reached into her duffel bag and pulled out an item she held carefully in her hands. Looking at the bed for a moment before deciding which side she would be sleeping on, she walked over to that side and placed the three dimensional picture/video frame on the nightstand. The picture that was currently on it was of her and her family. She liked it beside her when she slept to keep her reminded of who she was and where she came from. She sat down and took a deep breath and looked around deciding what type of decor she'll want to use.

This was going to be home for a while.

Colonel Jahkar

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2103.23

Everyone felt the *Resurrection* docked with the station. It was a rougher than usual coupling. But as quickly as the ship was rattled, everything returned to normal.

The Marine grabbed his bag and left his cabin on the Vigilant-class ship for the more spacious quarters on Umbra Prime. At least he hoped they would be more spacious...with Shadow Ops there was no telling what they’d end up with.

Jahkar came out of the ship’s airlock and emerged into the station. Works crews were hurriedly working, trying to get the modifications to the station done to make it a good home for Phoenix Squad.

Exiting the ship, he saw Lazarus held up with one of the Madcaps, who were already here helping get things set up. The Marine carefully slipped past the ensign and captain as they spoke, not wanting to get drawn into a conversation that had anything to do with engineering.

Jahkar headed into the habitat pod and sought out his quarters so he could settle in…

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.24

Ryramorl meant to meet up with Reepchip in the mess hall before leaving the ship.  He heard the sound of Reecphip talking with McCulloch, Becket, and Thompson, then the unexpected sound of someone being teleported out, including Reepchip’s dismayed squeak.  When he entered, Reepchip was nowhere to be seen, and McCulloch had just said he had no idea where Reepchip had been transported to him.

Ryramorl’s ear twitched, and he approached the trio and saluted smartly.  He faced McCulloch calmly, standing at very exact attention.  “Lieutenant Commander William, son of James, of the family of McCulloch.  Lieutenant First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral, inquiring about the whereabouts of Ensign Reepchip, House of Chara, Clan of Tet, sir.  Do you know where he is?”  There were times when formality could be fawning, times when it could be pretentious--and times when it could be subtly menacing.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.25

McCulloch sighed. This was his second encounter with Ryramorl and already he found the lieutenant’s openly passive aggressive demeanor troubling. The Scot sensed that the Carnora was aware of Reepchip’s antics yet he chose to pick a confrontation with the Scot. McCuloch sighed, shook his head and started to walk past Ryramorl.

“He’s onboard Umbra Prime, Lieutenant.” McCulloch called back to the officer as Thompson, Beckett and Will followed him out of the mess hall.

“How did he get to the station sir?” The Carnora called after him.

“Why don’t you ask him when you see him?” The Scot countered. “And when you do, be sure to remind him not to pull pranks on the big boys.”

“He is known for his tricks and pranks, but he means no harm.” Ryramorl responded.

“I’m well aware of that lieutenant. But if he intends to pull pranks on me, I will reciprocate...all is fair as they say.”

“I see,” the Carnora replied as he pondered for a moment. “So where is Reepchip?”

“He was beamed over to a ‘sublevel of a sublevel’ on Umbra Prime.” Beckett suddenly announced.

“Shut. Up.” Thompson muttered underneath his breath.

“He’s where?” Ryramorl asked. There was a tone of slight anger in his voice. “Sir, I respectfully request that you transport him back.”

The Scot grumbled silently for a moment before tapping on his badge. “McCulloch to Transporter Room. Could you please lock onto Ensign Charatetet and transport him back to the Resurrection?”

There was a brief awkward pause before the transporter chief responded. “Sorry sir. He’s deep in the bowels of the station. I can detect him but I can’t get a lock.”

Thompson snorted for a brief moment. “He said ‘bowels’”.

“Shut...up.” Beckett retorted.

McCulloch cursed again. “I’m going to have to retrieve the young Ensign...aren’t I?”

“Probably. I mean I would.” Thompson advised.

After a moment of reflection, he pointed at Ryramorl and announced, “Lieutenant, you’re with me.”

“Where are we going … sir?” The Carnora demanded.

The Scot smirked slightly. “We are going over to Umbra Prime to retrieve your little sidekick. And then we are going to have a chat with Reepchip on the ground rules of the prank war he started. Let’s go.”

“If you are referring to his telepathic prank, sir, he has already been admonished as a resident of the Federation by Commander Vree and as a Carnora Shaman by me,” responded Ryramorl.  “He was reminded that misusing telepathy and joking about Berserkers each go far beyond a mere prank, and he was asked to review both the Federation laws concerning telepath as well as his own Shamanic Oaths.  I thought he’d apologized to you for that trick, sir.  If he has not, that will be rectified.”  Well, at least the Carnora had their limits to their pranking.

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.26

Lieutenant Commander Tommy Carmichael had selected a room in one of the more inaccessible areas to continue his team’s research on the Coaxial Drive.  They knew how to operate and repair it, but there was still more to learn.  As he and Lt. Madhaven Chopra started setting up the room, they were startled to hear someone teleport in.  Reepchip stood in the room they meant to be a secret, looking in total confusion of his surroundings.

“Ensign Charatetet, what are you doing here?” asked Carmichael.

“I was talking to Lieutenant Commander McCulloch, he slapped me on the back… then I was transported here.”

Carmichael and Chopra looked at each other, then Chopra strode over.  “Hold still,” he ordered.  He looked at Reepchip’s back.  “There’s an isolinear chip here,” he said, pulling it off.

Carmichael grumbled.  “I’m going to have to have a word with McCulloch,” he said.  “Ensign, I’m going to have to ask you to leave this room, and to stay out of it.  I know I keep chasing you off, but we have to keep some things top secret.”

Reepchip saluted, and headed for the exit, ears flattened a bit.

Meanwhile, Carmichael keyed his comm.  “Lieutenant Commander Carmichael to Lieutenant Commander McCulloch.  Did you check the coordinates on the isolinear chip you planted on Ensign Charatetet?”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.27

“If you are referring to his telepathic prank, sir, he has already been admonished as a resident of the Federation by Commander Vree and as a Carnora Shaman by me,” responded Ryramorl.  “He was reminded that misusing telepathy and joking about Berserkers each go far beyond a mere prank, and he was asked to review both the Federation laws concerning telepath as well as his own Shamanic Oaths.  I thought he’d apologized to you for that trick, sir.  If he has not, that will be rectified.”

“He has not apologized Lieutenant and for your information, he was in the midst of a second prank against me and my companions when you came in. It appears your admonishments to the ensign were either woefully insufficient or he does not respect your authority. While I harbor absolutely no ill will towards the Muran, I believe we should rectify this issue together when we find the Ensign.”

Ryramorl stared quietly at the Scot. After a tense moment, Will nodded towards Beckett and Thompson and then gestured for Ryramorl to follow him as they went in search of Reepchip. As they worked their way through the *Resurrection* to Umbra Prime, McCulloch’s comm badge chirped.

“Lieutenant Commander Carmichael to Lieutenant Commander McCulloch.  Did you check the coordinates on the isolinear chip you planted on Ensign Charatetet?”

Will looked over at Ryramorl with feigned innocence. “Well, ‘planted’ is such a strong word.”

The Carnora slightly bared some teeth as he studied the Scot. Will chuckled slightly and tapped his badge. “No, Lieutenant Commander I did not and that was completely my fault. If I caused any headaches or issues, I do apologize.”

Carmichael was silent. McCulloch continued. “If the ensign is with you, I would be most grateful if you could escort him to the docking ring. Lieutenant Ryramorl and I will meet you there so I may apologize to you in person.

“I will do that.” The engineer replied.

“Excellent.” Will replied. “And I will gladly discuss the circumstances that resulted in you receiving the Ensign as that is on me. McCulloch out.”

The Scot looked at Ryramorl and smiled slightly. “Lieutenant, let’s go get the ensign and have a little chat along the way...tell me about yourself.”

Ryramorl pondered a bit as to what to say, then responded.  “As stated, I am the First Elder Name Ryramorl of the La’an Tribe of the Ra’yral, though my people are only as specific as need be, so the team normally calls me Ryramorl, or Ryramorl Ra’yral, as Ra’yral is the nation of tribes I belong to.  I first entered Starfleet when the Carnora were assembling into a single nation shortly after the Dominion War, as part of an exchange program.”  He decided he would gloss over his brawl with Zo’ar.  “While there I was contacted by two admirals who wanted my assistance with the original incarnation of Shadow Operations.  That is how Admiral MacLeod and I came to know each other.  After I left, I returned to my nation’s service, eventually becoming the Olvern OverKing Shor-Ghan’s bodyguard.  When Admiral MacLeod asked for me to return, Shor-Ghan gave me leave to go.  The Muran OverKing sent Reepchip as well.”

He paused a bit.  “You said he seems not to have listened to me.  What telepathic prank did he pull this time?”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

*USS Resurrection*, Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.27

Ryramorl paused a bit.  “You said he seems not to have listened to me.  What telepathic prank did he pull this time?”

McCulloch noted the Carnora’s choice of words before responding. “Honestly Lieutenant? Ensign Charatetet did not use telepathy as part of a prank this time. But please tell me if you think eavesdropping on the conversation of three higher ranking officers and then attempting to startle them while hanging upside down from the mess hall ceiling is appropriate behavior for an Ensign on board this vessel?

Before the lieutenant could answer, the Scot stopped and faced Ryramorl. “I mean I am the last person to judge...really, go take a look at my record, it speaks for itself …  but if \*I\* think there is something wrong with such behavior, how do you think Lazarus or Vree will respond if they catch him engaging in similar conduct?”

“I’d imagine Reepchip heard your conversation, decided it was casual chat, and decided to have fun with it.  He’d have been able to hear you before he even entered the mess hall.  And besides, it was more likely Beckett and Thompson he was trying to surprise.”  He sighed.  “But I see your point.  I’ll ask him to reign in his pranking.  Back home, being a trickster is part of being a Common Muran, so we take it in stride; it can become something of a game to try and anticipate what a Muran might do.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I had not taken that into consideration and given what you said, his behavior makes more sense. I appreciate your input.”

Ryramorl and McCulloch continued to walk towards the docking ring. After a moment of further reflection on the Carnora’s response, Will continued the conversation.

“Of course, Lieutenant, there is also the rule of fairness.”

“The rule of fairness?” Ryramorl responded somewhat confused.

“Yes, the rule of fairness.” Will answered with a smile. “Putting aside the rules of etiquette and protocol of this vessel for a moment, if Reepchip is going to pull pranks on other crew members, it is only fair that the so-called victims have an opportunity to respond in kind. He doesn’t enjoy immunity if he wishes to engage in a prank war with his crewmates.”

Ryramorl rumbled.  “Before you do that, I advise you to look at his record at Starfleet Academy--and WHY he was placed in so many classes.”  He didn’t say it, but he had a surprise of his own for the ones who’d made clowns of themselves at Sorvek’s funeral, and it involved the training sims that landed them in sickbay.  McCulloch might think Ryramorl was a big guy when it came to the Carnora.  Colonel Jahkar knew otherwise…

The Scot ignored Ryramorl’s subtle growling and pointed towards the docking ring. “Ah, we’re here. Let’s find Lieutenant Commander Carmichael and the dear Ensign Prankster.”

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Captain Quentin Lazarus

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.27

Settled into their respective offices, MacLeod and Lazarus congregated in the admiral’s ready room and once they were seated, MacLeod opened a comm-channel to Vree.

“Commander,” MacLeod said. “Report to my ready room on Umbra Prime.”

“Aye sir,” came the woman’s reply. A few minutes later she entered the office and found MacLeod seated behind his desk, Lazarus seated across from him where he was motioning for her to take the seat beside him.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m in trouble?” she asked, taking the seat designated for her.

MacLeod smiled, “You’re not in trouble. However, I have something to tell you and Captain Lazarus here.”

Lazarus raised an eyebrow, “Uh-oh. Sounds serious.”

MacLeod sighed, “It is, I’m afraid. Neither of you are going to like this and I am violating orders by telling you, so I expect both of you to keep this conversation between us.”

Both Shadow Ops officers nodded.

“Also, there will be no outbursts,” his glare settled on Mayla. “This is something beyond my control, beyond your control and it’s something we’re going to have to learn to live with.”

Lazarus offered a faint smile, “Oh this is going to be good.”

Mayla was non-committal. The admiral frowned, but continued.

“I had a meeting on Earth with Admiral Clancy and Commander Carmichael before we came out to Saturn,” MacLeod said. “Again, I am under orders to keep this secret…. but I think it is important and you both need to know. It started with Reepchip, nosing around engineering and having Carmichael run him off on more than one occasion. Apparently, the Madcaps had the same problem when they were aboard. “

Lazarus nodded, “I’m aware. I assumed it was because the coaxial drive is some top-secret technology.”

MacLeod laughed, “Well, there’s a reason it’s so top secret, Quentin. It’s bloody alien technology.”

“What?” both Mayla and Lazarus said at the same time.

“Heard it straight from Clancy, who is also not pleased with this news. Apparently Janeway gave authorization for Carmichael and his team to put some bloody alien warp drive in *Resurrection* after years of trying to retro-engineer the thing failed,” MacLeod explained. “It fused itself into this ship and they are unable to remove it.”

“Wait, Sorvek knew?” Lazarus asked.

Mayla nodded as the memories came flooding back to her, “Oh yeah, he knew.”

“Indeed,” MacLeod muttered. “So, they told me and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else, but I think you both ought to know. Carmichael...he’s just doing what they ordered him to do. I think it’s reckless.”

Lazarus nodded, “I agree. But Carmichael and his team know how to make it work, right? I mean, we’ve used it and it’s worked.”

“He understands enough to make it work and to keep it functional,” MacLeod said. “If there was a major malfunction...who knows. But he said they tried copying the technology over several years and both attempts ended with the ship’s being destroyed.”

“That explains the secrecy,” Lazarus said.

“That secrecy will have to be maintained. It also brought up an interesting situation,” said MacLeod. “Starfleet Command is concerned about the Carnora. Not necessarily our Carnora officers, but Clancy said their government has become more intense about obtaining new technology, information. I’ve been advised to keep a close eye on Reepchip and Ryramorl...in case their leaders want them to spy on us or, heaven forbid, steal anything.”

Lazarus grumbled, “I’ve never found them to be untrustworthy.”

“I’ve never known them to go against the orders of their homeworld,” MacLeod said. “That drive is off-limits. Reepchip is already curious and he knows they don’t want him poking around the thing.”

“Which means he’ll keep poking at it until he learns more about it,” Lazarus sighed. “We’ll have to put a bell on him….”

“Anyway, I just wanted you both to know,” MacLeod said. “Questions or concerns?”

Vree looked at Lazarus for a moment before asking her question. "Did the Admiral say what type of alien it was?"

“I was shown the Starfleet records of the alien ship. There’s no data on where it came from or who the aliens were. The vessel was adrift. No bodies onboard. There was DNA discovered on the ship but it has not been matched with any known species,” said MacLeod.

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael

Lieutenant Madhaven Chopra

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Stardate 2103.27

Lt. Commander Carmichael came out of the room with Lt. Chopra.  “We’ve been asked to show you the way back to the docking ring,” said Carmichael.  As they headed towards the docking ring, Carmichael asked Reepchip how many of his special engineering holoprograms he had.

“Five or six,” said Reepchip.

Carmichael nodded.  “After what I saw in the one, I’d like to see the rest, if I may.”

Reepchip nodded.  “I can show you the settings--my programs were made for the holodecks at the Olavra Academy a when they were installed few years ago as teaching tools for repairs, inscribing, and operating.  We’re hoping to get some for the Muransurak Academy as well.”

“Are the holodecks at the Olavra Academy the only ones on your world?” asked Chopra, guessing from Reepchip’s phrasing that holodecks were very rare.

“They are,” responded Reepchip.  “We had to build special buildings for them.”

“How do Carnora spend their downtime on ships if there’s no holodeck?” asked Chopra.

“Scrolls.  Music.  Visiting with other crew members.”

Finally, they reached the docking ring and began looking for Lt. Commander McCulloch.

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.27

Tiri was sharply exhaling in short breaths as she pumped her legs, propelling the Ribble Ultra Tri Shimano bicycle she was riding up a steep hill winding through the mountains on the island of Hawaii. She’d found the cycling portion of the Ironman race to be the hardest...having barely ever ridden a bike in her lifetime.

She’d selected the Shimano from an inventory of 20th and 21st century triathlon bicycles. There were newer bikes, but Tiri wanted to experience this event the way the early contestants had so she could get a better feeling of how they experienced the race.

Tiri had the running part down pretty well. She’d been on the track team during her academy years and had always enjoyed running and field events. Swimming had been more difficult to get used to, but she was remembering her youth on Andoria Prime where her mother had enrolled her in swimming lessons and summers she spent at the underground lakes and rivers on her homeworld.

She’d been on this ride for nearly six hours. A 180.25 km ride which was part of the Ironman course.She’d been working for days trying to better her time on the biking portion of the triathlon. Mandatory cutoff for the bike riding portion of the event was 8 hours and 10 minutes and Tiri was running behind. It was these damn hills...they were treacherous and they were slowing her down.

Somehow, she thought, she was going to make it and get the biking portion of the race down if she had to run this training simulation every day…

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.27

MacLeod walked into operations aboard the new Shadow Operations base and was greeted by Commander Reelek, a Bolian who had served previously on Ops Base One. Reelek was in charge of the current shift on duty manning operations.

“What is it, commander?” MacLeod asked.

“Vessel on approach, coming through the outer rings of Saturn as we speak,” Reelek said.

“Is it one of ours?” MacLeod asked.

“It’s Starfleet,” said the Bolian. “Shall I hail them?”

MacLeod nodded and approached the holographic communicator in ops. Reelek opened the comm and gave a nod to MacLeod.

“This is Outpost Umbra Prime to Starfleet vessel,” said MacLeod. “Please identify yourself.”

“This is the *USS Fearless*,” a female voice responded. “Permission to approach the station?”

MacLeod grinned. “Ah, they must have repaired her sooner than expected. Commander, put her onscreen.

Reelek had the tactical officer pulled up a holographic representation of the approaching vessel and MacLeod was shocked to see a new Inquiry-class starship nearing Umbra Prime rather than the Sovereign-class *Fearless*.

“What in bloody hell,” MacLeod muttered. “Starship, is this some kind of joke?”

The image of the ship vanished and the holographic version of an Orion woman replaced the mysterious ship. MacLeod immediately recognized her and smiled.

“Captain Vehakra Rhikal,” he said, somewhat bemused. “You had me fooled. What brings you here? I haven’t seen you since you were in Shadow Operations years ago.”

“Sorry admiral, it’s not a joke,” she said. “Allow me to introduce the *USS Fearless-A*. Shadow Ops’ new flagship.”

MacLeod was slightly taken back. He’d not expected this, in fact Starfleet had told him nothing about this decision.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

“Admiral Clancy wanted it to be a surprise,” Rhikal told him. “Your old *Fearless* is undergoing a complete refit and will be turned into an exploratory vessel. New technology, new mission, new name. She thought you’d benefit from having one of the newest ships in Starfleet to take her place.”

MacLeod really would have preferred having his old ship back, but his mother had taught him from a young age to never look a gift horse in the mouth. He was being given a brand-new starship to replace the 20-year-old ship that had served him so well for many years.

“Well, at least they aren’t putting me out to pasture,” he said. “I take it you are part of the deal?”

“I’ll be captaining the *Fearless-A* with Commander Alantris as XO,” the Orion said. “I’ll bring the *Fearless* into orbit alongside the station and we’ll transport over, with your permission.”

“Permission granted,” he said. “Welcome to Umbra Prime, captain.”

When the transmission ended, MacLeod turned to see Lazarus standing behind him in ops, a big grin on his face.

“They bloody gave us a new ship,” MacLeod muttered.

“It’s an Inquiry-class, Ian,” Lazarus said excitedly. “Top on the line. State-of-the-art. You can’t ask for much better.”

“Fearless was the best,” MacLeod said, clearly disappointed. “That ship saw me through many battles, missions and personal crises. “

“She was two decades old, been refitted a couple times and even if she’d have undergone another refit for Shadow Operations, she could never have all the latest tech an Inquiry-class ship has,” Lazarus declared. “This is a gift. Look at it as one and be thankful Clancy saw fit to give us a top-of-the-line ship. And we got Rhikal back. She was a damn good operator back in her days with SO.”

MacLeod nodded, “I’m aware of her record. And I understand where you’re coming from with the whole ship thing.”

“Do you?” Lazarus asked. “Because trust me, I know it isn’t easy. I miss *Intruder*. She was to me what *Fearless* was to you. But consider this...your days of running around commanding missions are over. You’re Sorvek now. You’ll be running the show from behind a desk. That may be brutal and I’m sorry, but it’s true. This new ship will give Phoenix Squad the tactical and intel support it needs in the field. This is what’s best for Shadow Ops.”

MacLeod stared at Lazarus for a moment, then rolled his eyes, “Christ, Quentin, they should have put you in charge.”

“Well, my stint with the Maquis pretty much made that a non-event,” Lazarus laughed. “Relax, Ian. This is a good thing.”

The admiral nodded and cracked a smile, “Well, at least they didn’t name it after some explorer. I hear that’s what they’re doing with these Inquiry-class ships.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be intimidating to have a spec ops ship called the *USS Marco Polo* or the *USS Meriwether Lewis*,” MacLeod mused. He then gave Lazarus and slap on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go see Captain Rhikal and the new *Fearless*.”

Back to top

## S3, E3, Act 5: Leaving on Vacation (extended edition)

Commander Mayla Vree

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.28

Mayla and Lazarus left MacLeod's ready room and headed toward the turbolift that would take them off the command deck. Several people stepped aside to let them pass.

A low voice came over her subvoc. "Was it a Linea ship?"

"No," she responded. "The Linea are alienphobic, there would only be human DNA left behind on any of their ships. And now from what I can remember, Sorvek has seen an image of the ship. I can definitely confirm it's not a Linea ship."

Lazarus grunted just as the turbolift doors closed. "I don't know if that's good news or bad news. At least I know you've got experience with Linea ships. I'm blind here not knowing if we'd actually make it to our destination every time we use that thing."

"I'm sure Carmichael feels the same way. The pressure is all on him if no one else is allowed close to the drive. Maybe you need to post guards outside engineering. Or continuously track Reepchip's isolinear tag."

Lazarus looked at the Trill. "You mean use one of Byrce's watchdog programs to alert me if he even gets close to engineering."

She just shrugged. "It's your choice. Just offering a suggestion."

"The hell you are. I'll bet you already have them running on every team member."

Mayla shook her head. "You lose. I'm not my father. His emotional attachment to the team required him to have overwatch on everyone."

Lazarus' face turned hard. He turned to her and glared at her. "His emotional attachment began when our enemies got personal and started going after our families. You might have his memories and think you know his psyche, but his actions protected us."

"His watchdogs failed when I was kidnapped right off EpSeven."

"That didn't count and you know it. It was THAT event that made him start using the watchdogs." He took a deep breath and let it out. Her demeanor about her father had changed since meeting with him after Sorvek's funeral. "Did something happen between you two? At your meeting?"

She looked forward at the door in front of her. "I don't want to talk about it."

He continued to look at her until the doors opened. Then he said out loud, "Let's get our command deck the way we want it so we can get back to doing away missions."

Lieutenant Commander Tommy Carmichael

Lieutenant Madhaven Chopra

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.29

Reepchip chittered, saying he heard Ryramorl nearby.  Soon, Lt. Commander Carmichael and Lieutenant Chopra could see Ryramorl with McCulloch.

Ryramorl rumbled a greeting to Reepchip and saluted Carmichael and Chopra.

Carmichael nodded.  “We were setting up a room for research, and he teleported in.”  He looked at Lt. Commander McCulloch.  “Make sure you know where you’re sending him next time.  The last thing I need is to be running some experiments and Ensign Charatetet showing up out of nowhere.”  He did not look in the least amused.

Ryramorl rumbled softly.  “Evidently, Reepchip pranked McCulloch by sneaking up on him.”

Chopra sighed.  “Another prank?” he asked, remembering Reepchip’s joke of pretending to actually be able to hear what one was typing on a PADD.

Reepchip shrugged.  “It’s in the blood, as humans say.”

“If you try to sneak into restricted areas--and you know what they are--I won’t take it as a prank,” warned Carmichael.  “I’ll just send you directly to the brig.  Do I make myself clear?”

[Consider them as well-guarded as the workings of the Spirit Crystal Array,] signed Ryramorl.  He would have said it aloud, but McCulloch didn’t need to know about the Carnora’s long-distance telepathic communication network.

Reepchip straightened up at that, then nodded.  “Very clear, sir,” he said to Carmichael, saluting.

Carmichael and Chopra nodded, then headed back to where they were.  Carmichael would ask what Ryramorl had signed later.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.30

Will watched as Carmichael started to walk away. The Scot called after the engineer as he crossed the open area and caught up to him.

“Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes, Mr. McCulloch?”

“This prank is on me, not the ensign.”

“You are correct, Lieutenant Commander.” Carmichael interrupted.

Will chose to ignore the slight, correct as it may be, and continued speaking. “The point Mr. Carmichael, is that the Ensign did not intend to end up in a location that he did and as a result, it should not be held against him.”

The engineer grumbled softly to himself and nodded to the Scot. “Your request is noted Lieutenant Commander McCulloch. Now, if you will excuse me I have other business to attend to.”

The Scot watched as Carmichael and his companions left the area. McCulloch sighed and briefly pouted for a moment. The rebuke was deserved but worse, slightly embarrassing. After a moment of reflection, Will spun around and started to make his way back to the Resurrection. As he passed Reepchip and Ryramorl, he stopped briefly. First, he looked at the Carnora and then the Muran.

“Lieutenant, thank you for accompanying me to retrieve the Ensign. Your insight and feedback is greatly appreciated. As for you…” Will announced as he eyed Reepchip momentarily. “We are going to find a more engaging hobby for you.”

The Scot nodded at both officers and continued on his way back to his ship.

As he crossed over onto the Resurrection, a crewman greeted him and handed him a padd, notifying him he had a message waiting for him. After reviewing both, McCulloch simply declared “You have to be bloody &\*$%%ing me” and handed the padd back to the crewman.

As Will walked away, the crewman’s curiosity got the better of him. He looked down at the padd and read the transmission from the USS Attenborough. The message confirmed that McCulloch’s ex-wife, Victoria, would be arriving at Umbra One in sixty days to assume command of the combat medics attached to the Shadow Ops program. Curiously, the transmission also subtly encouraged the Scot to stay out of Victoria’s way upon her arrival.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchop Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.31

“So what was the prank you pulled on Carmichael?” asked Ryramorl

“Lieutenant Chopra said my hearing was so good I could tell what someone was typing on a PADD, so I complained about Carmichael’s spelling.”

Ryramorl chuckled--when one wrote with a pen, some Carnora would play a game in which they tried to guess what was written from the simple sounds of the penstrokes.  They were more likely to be wildly inaccurate, though some characters did have their own distinctive stroke patterns--and Murans were known to have wicked good hearing.

“I wonder where our quarters are,” he said.

The two looked up where their quarters would be, but Reepchip wanted to eat at the mess hall before going to the quarters they shared.  The Muran was starved.

AS they ate, Ryramorl told Reepchip he might be getting special training as a scout.

“I didn’t do very well on Andoria.”

“You did fine in that building,” said Ryramorl.

Back in the restricted room, Carmichael and his team decided to take a break from setting up.  “Wonder what Lieutenant Ra’yral signed to Ensign Charatetet,” said Chopra.

“Whatever it was, it got the Ensign’s attention,” agreed Carmichael.  “Is there any translation module for a sign language?”

“I’ve heard of some, but they don't work through a normal Universal Translator, since those languages are not spoken,” came the reply.

Carmichael grunted, mentally reminding himself to ask Ryramorl what he’d said to Reepchip.

Colonel Jahkar

Outpost Umbra One

Stardate 2103.21

Jahkar strolled into the habitation area of the station where Shadow Operations was housed and intercepted McCulloch as he appeared to be heading in the direction of the holodecks. Jahkar blocked his way, directed a serious gaze at him and said, “Come with me.”

Leading McCulloch, he went further down the corridor until he saw the Carnora about to enter their quarters.

“Good,” Jahkar said, his tone dark. “I have everyone together I need to speak with.”

He turned to McCulloch, “You and you…” he gazed then fell on Reepchip. “Enough with the pranks. Not one more! Understood?”

Reepchip’s ears went flat--it was clear he’d been planning… something.  “Sir!  Yes, sir!” he said.  He knew that if Jahkar was sufficiently pissed off, the hybrid could utterly wrap Reepchip’s tail around his neck, so he took the orders seriously.

Ryramorl, however, eyed the Muran.  Either Reepchip would be obedient--or he’d get extra sneaky.  He’d make sure it was the former.

McCulloch nodded in understanding. “As I told Lieutenant Commander Carmichael earlier, I take responsibility for this debacle and I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Jahkar then maintained his stare at the Muran, “Also, stay out of restricted areas. If you don’t know where they are, I can provide you with a detailed list. But I think you already know what they are. The Resurrection’s coaxial drive is one.”

Reepchip chittered--he knew about the coaxial drive and the room set up for its study, and he figured the admiral’s quarters were off-limits, but he wasn’t aware of other places as well.

“Can I ask why?” McCulloch chimed in.

Jahkar directed his gaze at the Scot. “It’s off limits because it is a classified piece of technology and our team doesn’t have authorization to be near it. No one does, with the exception of Commander Carmichael, his team and the admiral. Are we all clear on that? No more pranks, no more poking around in engineering. Ensign Charatetet, you have been approved to go ahead with scout training. I have the training simulations set up. See that you get started on them ASAP.”

He then turned to Will and locked a steely gaze on the Scot, “You need help moving to your new quarters? I got the message that they are moving you.” Jahkar appeared to want to say more, but was aware they were in the company of other teammates. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“But first,” said Reepchip, and lay on his back, lifting his head to fully bare his throat.  “William McCulloch, sir, I am sorry for the pranks that I pulled on you.  Will you forgive me?”

“If you forgive him, touch the back of your hand to his throat,” said Ryramorl.  “If you do not, do not touch him, and if you are truly angry, touch the tips of your fingers to his throat.”  He partially bared a claw to demonstrate the significance of the last--it was, effectively, a death threat.

The Scot looked back and forth at Reepchip and Ryramorl in confusion. On the one hand he thought this entire gesture was over the top and dehumanizing. On the other he had to concede he knew next to nothing on Muran and Canora culture, etiquette or protocol.

“When in Rome…” Will muttered softly to himself. The Scot crouched down and studied Reepchip momentarily, looking directly into the Muran’s eyes. After a moment of silence, McCulloch smiled warmly and rested the back of his hand on Reepchip’s throat.

“Ensign, I have no qualms or disputes with you.” He announced before lifting his hand off of Reepchip’s throat and standing back up. He smiled again at the Ensign and gestured for him to stand up.

After Reepchip returned to his feet, the Scot leaned towards him and whispered in a low tone “I expect you to be yourself Ensign.”

The Scot stood up straight, winked at the Ensign and returned his attention to Jahkar.

Reepchip rose, thanking the Scot for his forgiveness.  Both he and Ryramorl could sense the man’s confusion, but this kind of apology was for when someone had well and truly screwed up--such as Reepchip had when he had telepathically caused McCulloch to hear Ryramorl’s berserk howl.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.31

“You need help moving to your new quarters?” Jahkar appeared to want to say more, but was aware they were in the company of other teammates. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I don’t have much to move to Umbra Prime other than my issued clothing and equipment.” McCulloch deflected.

“Where’s everything else?” Jahkar asked as he watched Reepchip and Ryramorl walk away from the pair.

“My home on Caldos.”

The marine nodded in silence. After a moment of reflection, he spoke in an encouraging tone. “Well, we will have to make arrangements for whatever belongings you want sent to Umbra Prime.”

“I’d appreciate that sir.” The Scot replied as the pair started towards McCulloch’s quarters. Upon arrival Jahkar looked around at the sparse furnishings and let out a low whistle. “You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t have much to move.”

“No sir.” The Scot replied with a sigh. “My arrival was somewhat quick, sudden and unexpected.”

“I am sure Commander Smith would say the same.”

Will studied Jahkar for a moment before continuing. “How much do you know?”

“Other than her kicking your ass on Vulcan and the Attenborough’s message to Umbra Prime about her anticipated arrival in two months? Not much.”

“You knew about the message I just received?” Will replied with concern.

“Lieutenant Commander, not everyone onboard the Resurrection thinks William McCulloch is a traitorous and villainous creature. The crewman who received the message brought the transmission to my attention after he saw your reaction to it. He apparently is a fan of yours and referenced a solo mission you are rumored to have executed on Evora. Ring a bell?”

McCulloch displayed no emotion. The mission to Evora was after the dissolution of Kane’s Mercenaries and during his “freelance” years. The operation concluded with the very bloody and very public assassination of a pair of local dignitaries who were neck deep into doing awful things to the poor of their community.

“Unfortunately, I have no idea what he is talking about sir.” McCulloch lied.

Jahkar watched the Scot carefully for a moment and then continued. “So do you want to tell me about why Commander Smith is this upset about your return?”

“How much time do you have?” Will replied as he looked around his room and noted that his quarters really were sparse.

“As much as you need.”Jahkar countered.

Will sighed and looked over towards Jahkar. He explained his early relationship with Victoria, including his marriage to her, their service together and the life threatening injuries she sustained defending innocent children during a terrorist attack. The Scot continued by explaining how that terrible event led to his betrayal of Shadow Ops and Kyril Vree subjecting Victoria to Trill medical treatment to save her life. Of course, as McCulloch noted, the treatment somewhat altered his wife’s personality and the two quickly grew apart. When Sorvek tried to reunite the Scot with his wife, Victoria replied with a request for a divorce. The request was granted and for over a decade, he had no contact with her ...until Vulcan. Will concluded with a retelling of the beating he received in the alleyway,  Victoria’s objection to his returning to the Shadow Ops program and her forwarding the video file of Sarah Pickering vomiting on his to Commander Vree..

Jahkar listened in silence for a moment. McCulloch was exhausted and almost wanted to break down as he started to feel a wave of humiliation and shame overcome him. He turned away briefly, regained his composure and turned back towards the marine.

“She throat punched you...twice?” Jahkar demanded,

“Twice.” McCulloch conceded. “To say she was quite aggressive would be an understatement.”

“You could bring her up on charges for assaulting a Starfleet officer.” Jahkar retorted.

“I won’t and if someone else did, I wouldn’t cooperate with such an investigation.” Will announced.

The Marine studied Will and then cautiously asked “Do you still hold feelings for your ex-wife McCulloch?”

The Scot stammered, turned away and started to pack his belongings. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But what does it matter? The key point is we’re going to have to find a way to co-exist on this station.”

Colonel Jahkar

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.31

Jahkar snorted, “I’m not really sure why we’re going out of the way to accommodate her. She wants to serve here, she needs to deal with the fact you’re here.” The Marine watched McCulloch unpacking and putting away his belongings as he pondered over the situation.

“Doesn’t it seem odd she wants to come back to Shadow Ops? Especially knowing you’ve already accepted a position on the team.”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.30

“Doesn’t it seem odd she wants to come back to Shadow Ops? Especially knowing you’ve already accepted a position on the team.”

Will instinctively stopped unpacking and looked back at the Marine. “What?”

“Doesn’t it seem odd she wants to come back to Shadow Ops? Especially knowing you’ve already accepted a position on the team.” He repeated.

The Scot blinked several times as he contemplated what Jahkar just said. After a moment of reflection, it was if a dim light went on inside McCulloch’s head. His jaw dropped as a look of surprise spread across his face.

“You don’t think…?” He started to ask before trailing off. Jahkar simply responded by looking at Will knowingly.

“We’ve been divorced for over a decade and I haven’t even spoken with her for as long. No, no you’re crazy.” Will stammered as the colonel simply stared at him with a smirk on his face.

“Let’s agree for the sake of argument the ass kicking you received was probably well deserved for all the crap you pulled when you went rogue years ago … but let’s look at the rest.  How many times has she had the Attenborough crew send transmissions to you announcing that she’s coming to Umbra Prime?”

“Two, three times.” Will replied hesitantly.

“Didn’t she also order you to spend time with you after Sorvek’s funeral?”

“Ummm...yes?”

“I heard rumblings she wasn’t too thrilled about your interactions with your drunk executive assistant Sarah Pickering either.” The marine noted.

“You forgot Taryn Kane, she made it clear she wasn’t happy about that relationship either.”

“You were involved with Kane?” Jahkar asked confused.

“Don’t ask.”

“And while speaking with Commander Smith, what did she say to you?” The colonel demanded.

“She was reconsidering the withdrawal of her application to be transferred to the Shadow Ops program...oh, no….no, no, no.” McCulloch protested as Jahkar started to laugh.

“Your ex-wife is looking for attention from you.”

“No.” Will protested futility . “She made it quite clear she wants the opposite, me driven out of the picture so she can continue on with her career. She wants me out of sight, out of mind.”

Jahkar continued to chuckle as he tossed a spare uniform towards McCulloch to put in a dresser drawer. “At one point yes, but someone or something changed her mind.”

The Scot stiffened slightly before looking back at the marine. “Vree. She said something to Victoria about me...something about second chances.”

Jahkar simply laughed harder.

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Outpost Umbra Prime/Holodeck

Stardate 2103.31

Tiri managed to drag herself out of the water and she collapsed on the beach, gasping for air. Dressed in a black one-piece swimsuit, the Andorian choked up some water as she lay there in the sand. She’d completed the swimming portion of the Ironperson Triathlon, 3.8 kilometers, but barely by the skin of her teeth.

The lieutenant’s legs felt like jelly and her body ached as she lay there looking up at the simulated Hawaiian sky above. She’d completed the swim, an achievement to be certain. It had taken several tries but she’d done it, albeit a dreadful time, but still she’d completed the swim.

That was all three portions of the race, now she just needed to work on running them all consecutively.

After collecting herself on the beach, she sat up and asked the computer for a towel. Tiri dried herself off and called up the arch so she could exit the holodeck....

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2103.31

Once Reepchip had settled into his quarters, he headed towards one of the holodecks to see what kind of sims Jahkar had created for him.  He was actually somewhat apprehensive--the Colonel had seemed annoyed, and he worried that these sims would be less training and more punishment.

As he looked through, he saw one entitled “Wing Suiting.”  He knew it was a sport similar to Sral Suiting, so eagerly he accepted it.

The instructor was a lean human who was short by human standards but still way taller than Reepchip.  A special suit based off the Sral Suit was provided to the Muran--distinct from human suits by the long tailsleeve at the back.

“Have you done wingsuiting before?” asked the instructor.

“Many times,” said Reepchip, checking the suit over, then donning the suit with ease.  “It’s a popular sport back home.  Usually from cliffs or special buildings.”

“Ah, BASE jumping.  Ever done it from an airplane?”

“A few times.  We actually start by learning to glide from tree to tree.”

The instructor nodded.  “I still have to go over the safety rules of wingsuiting,” he said.  Reechip agreed and listened as the instructor went over the safety rules common in the Federation--minimum distances, how high they would start at, and so forth.  Once that was done, they got on the airplane, and headed up.  “Any last questions, comments?” asked the instructor.

Reepchip shook his head, eagerly looking forwards to this.

Once at the right height, the instructor asked if Reepchip was ready.

“Absolutely!” he said, and at the signal, flung himself gracefully out of the aircraft.  The instructor followed him.

Suddenly, the instructor radioed Reepchip.  “Ensign Charatetet?!  Where are you?  I can’t see you!”

“I’m way up here,” said Reepchip.  “I can see you down there just fine!”

“Are you caught in an updraft?”

“No, sir, I just weigh about a quarter what you do, so I fall slower!”

It took quite some time for Reepchip to reach the ground, not far from where his instructor was, and landed with impressive lightness.

“I was worried there,” said his instructor.

“I weigh only… 15 kilos?  Or around there?” said Reepchip.  He grinned broadly.  “Ready to go again when you are!”

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Umbra Prime / SO Command Deck

Stardate 2104.02

Daryl oversaw the AI driven unit testing of the power- and data couplings of the command deck. The past hours he had been debugging a few couplings deactivating randomly. Now they seemed to be stable after rerunning the optical coupling configuration of all data and power couplings and tweaking here and there in the sub configuration of a few of the couplings.

Lt. Commander Gossling, 2IC of Umbra Prima engineering had already ordered for the couplings to be replaced, but it could take a while before they would be available. After some moments, all tests where finished and the AI reported back that all was OK.

Daryl sat back for a moment and looked around the command deck. It was getting in shape very nicely. He had to say that the current routine of lots of training and in between working double shifts to get the Command Deck up and running did him good. He wasn’t in a bad shape, but the trials they went through had already notched him up in shape nicely.

He checked his list of things to do during this shift, and mentally selected another task in his eye lens’ HUD Screens opened and connections where build up by his personal AI, and within seconds he had an overview of items that needed human intervention. The main computer core had some unstable connections towards the quantum field prediction arrays and the Shor-matrix interconnects.

This was also, as the AI already mentioned, related towards pollution fluctuations used in the polymeric alloys that generated the quantum fields. The diagnostics runs of the hardware showed indeed out that on several locations, no paired hardware was used. The system normally would be able to fix error corrections caused by the latency between the fields, but at a performance penalty.

For normal use, this might be sufficient, and since the former usage was a normal living habitat, such fluctuations not a problem at all. But now, for High performance and trustful computations, most of these flaws should be ironed out.  He entered all the data into an order

and send it off to the responsible engineering team.

His chronometer flashed. It was almost time for lunch., then his next training session with Beckett and McCulloch was on the program. He opened a channel to both of his fellow operatives. “Care for a quick bite before entering the torture room again?” Daryl asked.

Beckett chuckled. “Yeah, sure. I’m in. “

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2104.02

McCulloch’s comm badge chirped followed by the voice of Thompson inviting the Scot to lunch before afternoon training simulations. Will looked over at Jahkar.

“Care to join us? We’ll even let you pick out the meals we’ll vomit up later during your training sims.”

The marine nodded in agreement and the pair worked their way back towards the Resurrection’s mess hall.

En route, the pair encountered Lieutenant Ra’yral. The marine colonel turned to the Scot and told him that he would meet McCulloch, Thompson and Beckett in the mess hall shortly. Will nodded in agreement and continued on his way to grab lunch.

Lt. Ryramorl Ra’yral

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2104.02

Ryramorl caught up with Jahkar shortly after the hybrid was done talking to McCulloch.  His tail had an amused twitch.  “I understand that you have them going up against opponents meant to test their mettle thoroughly,”

Jahkar stopped and listened but was uncertain what the big Carnora was talking about...so he just let him speak while he tried to figure out what he was saying.

“I have something for you to aid in this; it is something a friend of mine concocted long ago when I was in my final year at Starfleet Academy.”  He handed Jahkar a data stick.  “I believe Beckett, Thompson, and McCulloch think that the Olverns are the Big Guys of Carnor.  You and I both know that is not true.”  He let a bit of teeth show as he grinned.  “You have your choice of Olverns, Usarins, Murans--those are much better and tougher fighters than Reepchip is at the moment--and Atarans, should you desire they learn to fight underwater..”

It finally dawned on Jahkar that Ryramorl was talking about the daily disciplinary sims he’d been putting Thompson, McCulloch and Beckett through.

He smiled, “I think you misunderstand. I’m not punishing them with fighting simulations. It’s a race simulation...a grueling triathlon which involves running, swimming and bicycling.”

Ryramorl grunted and nodded.  “Very well.  I do, however, wish to have one-on-one matches with them myself, over how they disrespected the ghost of Sorvek.  Oh, and I’ll try to keep Reepchip out of trouble.  I understand Carmichael’s concerns, and…”  He took a deep breath, glancing around.  “My race is having enough difficulty reverse-engineering the technology we’re already learning.  Trying to figure out something as advanced as that special drive would only end in total disaster.”

Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Habitat Pod 2

Umbra Prime, Sol Sector

Stardate 2104.03

She looked around where she stood while holding on to the antigrav controls for the new replacement generator for the hangar bay's tractor beam. Another one just like it hovered a few meters behind it, currently locked in its place so it wouldn't float away in the zero gravity. Her magnetic boots kept her feet locked on the upper exterior hull of the *Resurrection*. She was looking up at the large, opened panel above her that was inside deck 1 of the *Resurrection*'s hangar bay in Habitat Pod 2.

The entire hangar bay was pressurized, so she didn't need an environmental suit. But it was still in zero G, so she still wore special magnetized boots that were less cumbersome than the ones on an environmental suit. She couldn't help but to smile thinking how ridiculous, and a little bit fun, it was to walk on the hull of the ship without a suit. Of course, if the docking bay doors suddenly opened, she would pretty much die.

"Commander, you can send it up now," Lieutenant Tyn Ch'aretris called out to her from above. The young Andorian wasn't that far away, maybe six meters up. There really wasn't much head room for the *Resurrection*.

"On its way," she responded as she maneuvered the replacement generator into position before pressing another keystud to lift it up to Ch'aretris and his three assistants.

Hopefully the tractor beam and the backup forcefield generators would be finished installing by the end of the week. Phoenix Squad hadn't been assigned a new away mission yet, so some of them have begun to chip in to get their new HQ running soon.

"Hold it right there," Ch'aretris said. "We've got it. Disengage and get the next one ready."

Mayla pressed another few keystuds and the pallet the generator was on was lowered back down to her. She moved it aside and linked up with the next one to be ready. They had been doing this for the past few hours already, so she knew she had a half hour wait for the engineers to be ready for the next generator. She gave herself a silly grin and decided to take a stroll around the ship. It wasn't often one would get the opportunity to walk around on the hull.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Umbra Prime, holodeck

Stardate 2104.08

Daryl sat against the white wall, right off the beach. Slowly, he drank small sips of water out of a canteen. He was beyond exhausted. His whole body screamed in agony, even though the EMH had given him something to ease the pain. It had been a though day.

The past 17 hours Beckett, McCulloch, Sh'avelith and himself had taken part in the Ironman challenge. And they all managed to make it within the 17-hour time limit! Beckett, who was lying on the other side if the wall on the beach had fallen asleep. He was snoring audibly. Daryl chuckled, and all muscles ached as he did. Daryl looked at McCulloch who sat beside him.

"We made it, mate" McCulloch said softly, while rubbing his legs. Daryl nodded and looked at Tiri, who also sat on the Beach, her eyes closed.

"You ok, Tiri? " He asked. The young Andorian woman opened her eyes. She smiled faintly and nodded. She was tired, exhausted even, but still in a better shape than the others.

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2104.08

MacLeod was sitting in his ready room with Captain Vehakra Rhikal, discussing the specs and details about the new Shadow Ops command ship, *USS Fearless-A*, when the door chime sounded. MacLeod called, “Enter” and the door slid open to reveal Captain Lazarus

“Sorry if I’m disturbing either of you,” Lazarus said as he strolled in.

“Not at all,” MacLeod said. “What is it?”

“We had talked about sending the team on shore leave for a couple weeks. They’ve been here training and helping get the station settled now for two weeks,” Lazarus said. “I was wondering when we should send them off?”

MacLeod looked down at the desktop and slowly nodded, “I guess it’s time to send them on their way. Have the three finished their disciplinary action?”

“They have. The race concluded this morning. I doubt they’ll be up and around for at least 24 hours,” said Lazarus with a grin. “They looked absolutely exhausted.”

MacLeod smirked, “That was the idea, I think. By all means, captain, send them on shore leave. Two weeks...and I want them back here at Umbra Prime.”

Lazarus gave a sharp nod, “Understood. Thank you, sir.” He nodded to the Orion, “Captain.”

Turning around, Lazarus headed out the door and sent word to the team they were cleared to begin a two week shore leave…

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Outpost Umbra Prime

Stardate 2104.08

Jahkar waited at the finish line along a highway winding through the Hawaiian mountains. It had been about 30 minutes since the last of his disciplinary subjects had finished the triathlon race.

Cody Beckett had finished first – age certainly being a factor for him. Then Daryl Thompson had crossed, only a few minutes behind the younger officer. William McCulloch crossed third, but he’d still managed a good time despite age and training.

Tiri was bringing up the rear. She’d made good time, on par with typical women’s numbers, but Jahkar knew she was going to be disappointed. When he finally saw her round the curve, he smiled. She was maintaining a good pace despite having been on her feet running for more than four hours.

Maintaining a steady speed, the Andorian came into the home-stretch when she came around the curve in the road and saw Colonel Jahkar waiting for her at the finish. There was no sign of Beckett, Thompson or McCulloch which likely meant they’d finished some time ago. That didn’t surprise her – from her research women usually ran in their own category because they were generally slower. As sexist as it sounded, it was simple genetics – but Tiri was not about to let that stop her. Maybe not this time, but she would eventually compete with the men…she’d just keep training.

Approaching the finish line, she crossed to the applause of Jahkar who approached with a bottle of water. Tiri came to a stop and bent over, hands on her knees. As she fought to catch her breath. Taking the water from Jahkar she drank nearly half in a few short gulps and then went back to catching her breath.

“Eighteen hours, 16 minutes and 47 seconds,” Jahkar told her. “That’s pretty damn good lieutenant.”

Tiri looked up, still bent over, and directed her gaze at the half-Romulan/Klingon, “What were their times?”

Jahkar shook his head, “Who?”

“The men!” she demanded.

“Beckett at 17:16:29, Thompson 17:42:04 and McCulloch at 17:50:52,” Jahkar read the times from a data PADD. “You did good, lieutenant.”

“Thanks,” she said, disappointment obvious in her voice as she toweled off the sweat on her face and shoulders. “It was the bike…I lost time on the bike.”

Jahkar gave a nod, “The bike can be hard, especially for someone who never rode before.”

“I’ll do better next time,” she said.

“I wasn’t planning on doing this again,” Jahkar admitted. “I mean…it was a disciplinary thing.”

“Can I keep training?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll leave them in the computer.” With an afterthought he turned back to Tiri, “You’re pretty serious about this.”

“I can do better,” Tiri muttered.

Jahkar approached and smiled, “Hey, relax. It is supposed to be fun. Train for a few months and you can run it again.”

Tiri nodded. “Well, I’m going to go hit the showers.” Jahkar ended the program and the two started toward the arch.

“Where are you off to on shore leave?” Jahkar asked.

Tiri shrugged, “I don’t know. I thought about Andoria but my mother is off-world on a teaching assignment. My brother is busy with studies at the university. I was just thinking about staying here…maybe spending some time on Earth. What about you?”

“I have a home on Bajor. My ex-wife and I built it. She kept it in the divorce but left it to me and the children when she passed,” Jahkar said. “I haven’t been there in a while. My daughter, Kedanya lives on Bajor and she visits the house regularly.”

“That sounds nice,” Tiri said. “I hope you have fun there.”

They exited the holodeck and headed down the corridor on their way to the habitat section. As they walked, Jahkar looked over at the Andorian.

“You really should do something enjoyable on leave,” he told her. “We don’t get a break that often.”

Tiri got a sad look on her face, “I know but…I just don’t know what to do. I had friends when I was in Starfleet Intelligence. People I worked with for several years. Here, you all have known each other for a long time,” she gave a slight grin, “it’s hard to be one of the ‘cool kids’.”

“Cool kids. That’s an exaggeration,” Jahkar laughed. “Give it time, Sh’avelith. You’ll make friends.”

They arrived in the habitat section and Tiri’s room was up first. They stopped at the door and she opened it before turning back to look at Jahkar. “Thanks for letting me do the triathlon. I enjoyed it.”

Jahkar nodded, then gave a long moment of thought, “You know, Tiri, if you wanted to and it didn’t seem awkward to you, you could join me on my trip to Bajor. Strictly as friends…of course…there are several rooms at the house and you could go do your own thing on the planet.”

Tiri was taken back by the offer and if an Andorian could blush, she would have been a bright red. She looked away for a moment, then turned back to the colonel, “Right…just two friends on vacation. I guess that would be OK. I mean…sure.”

“You and Kedanya are about the same age, you two might hit it off,” Jahkar said. “Think it over. My transport leaves at 0700 tomorrow.”

Tiri nodded, “Yeah, I’ll let you know. Thanks for the invite.” She then stepped into her room and shut the door. When it closed, she stopped and pondered what had just transpired before laughing. “Vacation with the 2IC? Wow! Oh, the EMH is going to love hearing about this.”

Back to top

## S3, E3, Act 6: Enjoying Shore Leave (extended edition)

Commander Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2104.10

The Scot was certain he was looking at light at the end of the tunnel. As he completed Jahkar’s Ironman Triathlon requirement, he collapsed on the ground, proceeded to vomit and then rolled over onto his back. As he stared upwards towards the sky, he reassured himself he was about to meet his maker.

Moments later, the hologram disappeared. McCulloch found himself staring up at the ceiling of the holodeck and proceeded to curse repeatedly to himself.

As Will started to crawl towards the exit, Jahkar approached him and slapped him on the back

“Well done McCulloch.” He announced as he continued towards the exit. The Scot groaned loudly and collapsed onto the floor...the cool, cool floor that refused to pass judgement on him.

“We need a vacation.” Beckett announced from his position on the floor.

“All I want to do is vomit.” MCCulloch announced.

“We could go to Malibu Beach on Earth.” Thompson announced. “I have some sisters who live in Los Angeles. We could crash there.”

“Are they cute?” McCulloch asked as he fought back the urge to heave again.

“They’re my sisters.” Thompson countered.

“Sooooo….they look like you?” McCulloch replied.

“We’re not going there Will.” Thompson replied as he shut down the proposition of the Scot getting to know his sisters in a more familial way.

“He’s not going anywhere.” A voice announced over the sound of the holodeck doors opening.

The Scot struggled to lift his head and once again cursed as he saw his least favorite Trill, Ensign Thrice standing before the trio.

“Is there any reason why you are McCulloch’s personal messenger?” Beckett demanded.

“Only when there is bad news.” She replied with a slight tone of condescension

“This ensign really doesn’t like you Will.” Thompson observed dryly.

“I’m not a fan of Black Watch operatives...past or present.” Thrice countered. There was a clear tone of disrespect in her voice.

“Watch yourself Ensign.” Thompson warned as he struggled to his feet. The Trill checked herself, cleared her throat and eyed the Scot.

“Lieutenant Commander McCulloch, Captain Lazarus sends his greetings and wishes to inform you that you are restricted to weekends only for shore leave. You are to spend your weekdays running sniper simulations, completing field trainings as outlined by Commander Vree and familiarizing yourself with operational protocols of our ship.”

“What day is today?” The Scot asked aloud as the ensign handed him a padd.

“Friday.” Beckett announced as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Ensign Thrice, I’ll see you on Monday. Dismissed.” McCulloch ordered with a wave of his hand. He watched the Trill leave the holodeck and then turned to his companions. “Malibu Beach?”

“Malibu Beach.” Thompson announced with a wink.

“It can’t come soon enough. I get off duty at 1700 hours. Let’s plan on beaming down as soon as I finish my shift.” Will requested.

Commander Mayla Vree

Her new quarters

Umbra Prime, Sol Sector

Stardate 2104.10

Mayla got up from her desk and did some stretching. She had just spent the last nine hours performing administration work for Blackthorn, locked in her quarters the whole time. The team was given shore leave yesterday, and they had mostly gone their separate ways after submitting their shoreleave address. She decided to use some time to go over the projections Sorvek had done for Blackthorn before their next scheduled status packet exchange in just a few hours. She wanted to get as much done as she could to go out to Blackthorn or else she would have to wait until their next pick up in a month. She had admittedly appreciated the complicity of the security encryption methods the Meg AI used to exchange the electronics packet with a Blackthorn ship that would come within range of a subspace relay for just a few minutes each month.

Sorvek had it easy, this position of stewardship. He could suppress his emotions when he gave orders that weren't logical. Based on her sub knowledge of experience from the Linea's most brilliant warriors and wartime strategists, it was harder for her to do the same. In fact, Linea war strategy didn't apply to the technology in Starfleet, therefore was mostly useless in itself until she adapted them to Starfleet tech. And they didn't have politics to get in the way of the common goal of their entire race's existence.

But his AI that knew Legion was a threat and failed to warn Sorvek, was in essence making the same mistake Bravo Squad's former AI named Sweetie made. Except this time, Meg was ordered not to interfere. It reminded her of Ky's attitude about not wanting to know what was going on in the Milky Way as to change his perspective on whether or not it was still worth sacrificing for. She was starting to see his point. Non-interference was a self mechanism to keep focused on the current assignment when functioning so far away and detached from Starfleet. Something Bravo Squad had a lot of experience with. That fact alone made her father an ideal candidate for Blackthorn leadership. And in hindsight, her implanted subknowledge of past Linea warriors made her the perfect candidate to lead Blackthorn, whose sole purpose was to give the Milky Way a fighting chance if the Linea continued their legacy's goal of conquest..

From her perspective of three previous careers in Starfleet, this wasn't the same Starfleet and Federation of tradition, but of shadows and political maneuverings. Each person had the self-conceit to think they knew what was best for the Federation. Did it all begin when the Romulan Star Empire became no more? Was it this same conceit that allowed them to think because the Federation's largest threat was now scattered and homeless, that they see themselves as the emperors of the galaxy under the guise of being their protectors?

She had joined the Academy because she wanted to follow in her adopted father's footsteps; the man who rescued her from the Cardassian forced labor camp the Bajorans called Purgatory. She had believed in the virtues and ideals of Starfleet and what the Federation stood for. And she wanted to give back by service. But the universe was much more complicated than just performing simple service. She had betrayed those who created her and fought against the Linea when they sent the Gen5 killer squads to eradicate her gene pool of Linea soldiers. Her sibko were the only siblings she had left from that life.

She reminisced briefly about those members of Echo Team that was entirely made up of members from her sibko. At least being with just a few of them gave her some sense of belonging and shared experiences. It reminded her they were doing what they were engineered to do, and that was to be the best warriors genetic breeding could create after a thousand years. They also believed with every fiber of their being they were defending the Federation.

A reminder popped into her eyelenses. It was the countdown timer to Blackthorn's package exchange in one hour. She had to switch her mindset to seat herself in Blackthorn's perspective in order to provide sound judgement and guidance to the Project. Maybe the weight of the Milky Way's safety didn't all fall squarely just on her father. She shared it too. Thinking that made her give out a long sigh. The emotional pain from her last visit with her father a few weeks ago still remained fresh. But she needed something to urge her on, to continue the good fight.

Whatever the Federation President and Security Council dictated the good fight was.

There was nothing she could do to influence any of their decisions. She could sense they looked at her with sufferance of the old traditions of simple loyalties of what was right and wrong. She stared at the screens hovering over her desk patiently waiting for her. What was within her circle of influence was Blackthorn. She felt a surge of inner strength at the thought of the enlightenment of a new journey's path opening up in front of her. She had to make things right with her father so she can guide the Project the best she can and with a clear emotional slate. Maybe Kyril was right. It was best to not look behind and just focus on the task at hand-and that was to at least protect the galaxy.

If the Security Council claims to be looking at the bigger picture, there is no bigger picture than the safety of the Milky Way from any external invasion.

'Meg, are you there?'

'I am here, Mayla.'

Mayla's voice turned hard with precision and drive. 'Notify Blackthorn at their check-in that I require an inspection of the Project. I will need transportation to their location from Earth Spacedock as soon as they can. And billeting for temporary quarters.'

Commander Mayla Vree

Lazarus' ready room, *USS Resurrection*

Umbra Prime, Sol System

Stardate 2104.10

"For how long?" Lazarus asked, not even bothering to look at her shore leave address notification on the padd she placed on his desk.

"Until we're due back. But I will only be a day's notice away if there's a recall."

"Where are you really going?"

Maya paused for just a moment before answering, but using SO hand signals at her side. 'I can't tell you, officially, that is.'

Lazarus tapped a key that jammed all comms and disabled all devices within his ready room. The room became dim to signify the covert status it was in. "Alright, tell me unofficially."

"I'll be at Blackthorn Base."

He knew of the Base's existence, but never knew where it was or what exactly was there. It was all above his pay grade. But based on his limited experience with the Linea during his command of Bravo Squad, he suspected that was where all of the Linea technology they had acquired was sequestered. Once he even queried for it in the computer and nothing was returned.

"You're in contact with them?"

"I am." She responded without any elaboration.

He eyed her carefully. He knew that she was hiding something from him, but until she said something about it, he had to let it go. It was above his clearance especially now that she had a higher access shadow clearance than he. He finally picked up the padd and looked at the contents. The notification said she was going to be on Tellar Prime-a day away from Earth. He leaned back into his chair. It was shore leave though. Crewmembers were free to go wherever they chose to as long as they left a way to recall them in case of an emergency and reported back to the base on time. Why shouldn't Mayla also be afforded to go on shore leave and her privacy to it? Even if it's to go to a top secret base he's only heard of from Sorvek. Sometimes he suspected Sorvek may be the only one who knew of its existence. And now that Mayla retains his memories, she is most likely privy to it. How seemingly appropriate it was.

"Alright, Commander.  But some day, you need to explain it to me."

"Aye, sir."

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Umbra Prime

Stardate 2104.13

As soon as Ryramorl got word that he was going on Shore Leave, he informed the Captain and his Commander that he and Reepchip was going to Carnor.  Reepchip wanted to go to Muransurak to visit family.  Ryramorl explained to Captain Lazarus why he was going; he wasn’t sure if the older human quite understood how Olvern Carnora saw the afterlife.  He told Mayla how to send a message to the Far Callers if he were needed.  It might take him time to return, but he’d get back with all haste.

“Far Callers?” asked Captain Lazerus.

“All Olvern languages have a Howled variant,” responded Ryramorl, “and the Far Callers are those who are highly trained in Howling.”  He watched Captain Lazarus’s face as he said that, knowing many in the Federation wondered who should be slapped silly for giving warp technology to a race so primitive they still relied on howling like animals to communicate across long distances.

After making their farewells, the two Carnora headed to Earth, where they were able to get passage on a Carnora Ship with Ambassador Ryramorl Yarman Delta Ra’yral.  As the coordinates for the trip were set, Ryramorl and Reepchip settled into the passenger quarters.

Ryramorl Yarman Delta sat with Lt. Ryramorl La’an, talking about how things were going back home.  “The Ro’ar face difficult times,” he said.   “Everyone knows the tribes they absorbed in the aftermath of the Jem’Hadar Invasion were absorbed against their will.  When the Overseer returned to Carnor, these people presented their case before him, First Elder Lyar La’an Ro’ar said that these tribes were an exception--they were Ritually Dead, since there was no-one left in those tribes to conduct their own rituals of mating, so consent was not theirs to give.”  He leaned forwards.  “The Overseer said he saw no distinction, and that their disregard of the customs of intertribal relationships disturbed him.  He also pointed out that even if they had to join with another tribe, they did have a choice who to join.  So he’s ruled that none of the tribes--and that includes the Hayan, Yaryan, Rano’ar, and the Roshaigaro--were ever part of Ro’ar.”

Reepchip, who was listening, chittered.  “How does one tribe legally absorb another, then?”

“Every tribe has different rituals of mating, even if it’s a variance of the speeches.  Which set of rituals is conducted under determines to which tribe the couple will belong,” said Ryramorl La’an.  “If a large enough percentage from one tribe mates into another tribe, the Elders of the two tribes may sit down and discuss the weaker tribe being absorbed into the stronger.”

“If the tribes are about equal--and it’s almost always weak tribes merging into one stronger one, they’ll consult with their Grey Hosts on how to blend their rituals, and thus join as equals.  They’ll take on a new name--or a blended name--and become a new tribe entirely.  Sometimes you’ll get 3 or 4 tribes doing the same thing, and that’s when they become a Bone Soup tribe--a bunch of tribal leftovers becoming one actual tribe,” added Ryramorl Yarman Delta.  “In the case of an OverTribe like the Ra’yral, they could become a Tribe within the OverTribe.“  He drank some water.  “For example, the Yaryan Tribe are mating into the Ra’yrals from headwaters to deltas.  If this keeps up, the Yaryan could become The Yaryan Tribe of the Ra’yral,” he continued.  “Thing is, this is usually done by the initiative of a weaker tribe--if they’re under serious threat of dying out; they’ll start mating into another tribe for survival.  A tribe simply doesn’t say to another, ‘you are now a part of us.’” He growled a bit.  “ However, Lyar claimed that Ro’ar did not need to follow the usual customs of Joining because the tribes the Ro’ar absorbed were Ritually Dead--they didn’t have enough Elders--if they had any at all--to perform those rituals.  It just so happened that the Yaryan still had a lot of wealth left from their old tribe, the Hayan and Rano’ar held trade routes; the Roshaigaro had Shor-Ghan...”  The ambassador snorted.

Ryramorl La’an grunted.  “It was nothing more than a power grab, and everyone knows it.”  He thought a bit.  “But with the Yaryan mating into the Ra’yrals, Lyar’s going to lose the tribe anyway.  Even if he doesn’t let the Elders go--all two of them--there’s nothing he can do about the younger ones without risking a fight.”

Ryramorl Yarman Delta growled.  “I think it’s more.  Lyar and Rolandhro love being told they’re right, and they’ve held a powerful position amongst the Carnora for so long that they don’t think they need to follow any of the old Intertribal customs.  Or any customs at all.  The lesser tribes of the Ro’ar are saying that both Lyar and Rolandhro didn’t undergo the real Rites of Manhood--instead of capturing a wild Horghenhar they used one from their own herds.”

Ryramorl La’an Ra’yral looked at the ambassador.  “...they what?” he asked, in a quiet voice.

“It is but a rumour, nothing more,” said the Ambassador.

“Wouldn’t put it past them,” growled the La’an.

Ryramorl and Reepchip shared a shuttle down to the surface of Carnor.  The two operatives bade each other farewell for the time, and Reepchip took a transport to Muransurak, while Ryramorl contacted some Far Callers to find out where his brother’s tribe was.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ra’yral Plains, Carnor

True Night

Stardate 2104.15

Ryramorl’s return to his tribe was a joyous one--many rubbed faces, hugs, and roars of greeting.  He greeted his young cubs--Holder of the name Ghronar and Holder of the name Ee’an--names that Ryramorl and Myaral’s friend Admiral Ian MacLeod had not only loaned the cub, but even allowed him to Hold in the Ra’yral Tribes as so many names had died away from the tribe. The two youngsters were almost ready to undergo their Rites, and Ryramorl figured he’d be home long enough to witness it.

At the evening feast,  Myaral told Ryramorl of the happenings going on.  “Rolandhar got a horrible shock when the Overseer returned to Carnor,” he told Ryramorl.  “The Overseer said that while he is above the laws of the Carnora, in this case he was enforcing them--none of the tribes the Ro’ar have absorbed are actually a part of them”

“Ryramorl Yarman Delta told me,”  Ryramorl chuckled.  “Wish I could have seen his face.  I heard you’ve been getting in contact with the Younger Tribes.”

“I have,” said Myaral.  “Indeed, at the next Gathering of the Chiefs which is in a few True Nights, we shall welcome new Chiefs into the Tribes of Ra’yral.”  He drank some water.  “Ryramorl…  the days of the Ancient Tribes is ending.  The Overseer told us the days should have died with the Jem’Hadar invasion.  Not only that, but I have heard of the death of Martok.  From what I understand, he disliked the Carnora--perhaps even detested us--but he did not despise us--he knew us as warriors.  As for their next High Chief...  who knows?  We are not a powerful people, no matter what Rolandhar says, and Carnor may make a tempting target.“

Ryramorl continued eating.  “So what is your plan?”

“To be less a Chief of an Ancient Tribe, and be more a chief of all tribes--even those Ra’yral on the world I visited.”

“May the bow be comfortable in your hand,” said Ryramorl.  “...but you have more on your mind.”

“I will speak with you tomorrow."

That night, Ryramorl and the head male shaman Holder of the Name Yawrola in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral, headed out far from the camp.  Ryramorl stripped down, baring himself completely to the Grey Host of the Ra’yral Tribe--and more specifically, the one who had once Held Ryramorl’s name and loaned it to him--and lay on his back.  Yawrola would mediate between Ryramorl and the ghost of his great-uncle.

“I am on a Long Hunt, and only now do I find brief respite from it to come and say my final farewell to you,” he said quietly.

“And how did you lose the bones?” asked the Shaman in a hollow  voice that suggested he was repeating someone else’s words..

“I was careless,” said Ryramorl.  “I brought them into the presence of a powerful Shaman, who reached out with the Hidden Hand and destroyed the bones, along with my other weapons.”  He made no attempt to excuse himself; excuses were for those who refused to admit guilt.  “I am sorry to disrespect you so.”

“Do you seek to replace those bones?”

“No.  All I want is forgiveness--and to say ‘I love you.’”

The two were silent for some time, simply letting the wind, ground, and distant waters of Carnor speak, waiting for word from the Grey Host.

Finally the Shaman spoke in his normal tones.  “The one who once held your name sees far more than you know.  His forgiveness you have, his love you shall always have.  And what is more…  he has agreed to give you one more Bone--but this shall never be carried into battle.  Sit up.”

Ryramorl sat up and Yawrola handed him a wooden case.  Ryramorl carefully opened it up.  Within was a finely carved flute, partially made from his great-uncle’s rib.  Ryramorl smiled quietly, lifted it to his lips, and played a traditional song of farewell.  For the first time since his great-uncle died, he was at peace.

As the dawn rose, the two Olverns returned to the campsite.  Myaral greeted his brother and could see by the look in his eye that the two had made peace.

After the tribe had eaten breakfast, Myaral took Ryramorl aside.  “I have spoken to many chiefs, both those of the Ancient Tribes, and of the Younger Tribes,” he said.  “Rolandhar and Lyar’s attitudes towards the ‘mongrel’ tribes and the Bone Soup tribes have both groups worried. Not only that, but Lyar is trying to pressure Sha-Tam and Zhia-Zhiro into mating into the Ro’ar Tribe--and one of them with Rolandhro himself, which would make the Roshaigaro part of their tribe. The Ro’ar are too powerful as it is, and if they become the Tribe of the Overking, we may be in for some dark times, so I have made a decision:  When the right time comes, either the Ra’yral or the Ro’ar will need a new High Chief.”

“And if you win, what then?”

“I won’t put the Ro’ar La’an to the claw--Death is the most ravenous beast of all, and it is too easy to lose the leash.  But I will tell the Ro’ar that Rolandhro will not become the next High Chief.  I might even loose the other tribes from the Ro’ar La’an’s command.”

“Keep your claws sharp, brother,” said Ryramorl softly.

“I only ask you try to keep the Federation out of this.”

Ryramorl nodded, and the two rubbed faces.  “Does Holder Ryramorl Yarman Delta know of this?”

“He does not.  Only the Chiefs know--and now you.”

Reepchip Charatetet

Muransurak

Stardate 2104.16

The Great Orrery in the city center had never looked more wonderful to Reepchip as he arrived in Muransurak.  It was good to be home once again.  He stepped back as a group of guards walked by, guarding the Federation ambassador Vidra Sitru as she exited the embassy.  Reepchip had often wondered as a kit why the embassy had such enormous doors--a full meter and a half in height--until he saw his first Ithenites and saw that even they towered over the Muran as if they were Jirek-Jai.

He wended his way through the crowded streets of the city until he made his way to the Chara Manor in the Tet District.  Instantly, Reepchip was mobbed by his family, the street soon filling up with joyous chitters, squeaks, and barks.  Neighbors poked their heads out to see the returning Son of Chara, Child of Tet.  Reepchip embraced his family, chittering in his own language.

The meal was wonderful--the berries, herbs, insects, and small prey that made up the Muran diet had never tasted so good.  As they talked, Reepchip was told that the mining platform he’d been born on had been destroyed in a flood eruption.  “It happens,” said his mother.  “When our sensors went off, we just headed for the escape pods and fled.  It’s only a machine, we all made it off, and that’s the important part.”

Reepchip nodded.  The loss of a rig was a simple fact of life for those who lived on Agavan.   Agavan--the Fire Moon--was the most volcanic body in the entire Antevas System, and seismic sensors on rigs were a must, not having them in working order could result in severe jail times for rig owners and maintenance workers.  Rigs were built to be mobile, so if sensors detected an impending eruption, the rig could simply pull up its drilling bits, recall all its workers, and move away.  If the sensors warned that a flood eruption was coming, in which the ground simply ripped open and spewed out lava, there was no way for the rig to outrun it, so the rig dwellers would simply gather their (usually scant) belongings, head to the escape shuttles, and simply abandon the rig to its fate.

“So tell us of your life amongst the Federation,” said Ranhassa, Reepchip’s mother.

Reepchip told them of his adventures thus far--and their jaws were on the floor as Reepchip described their sleeping arrangements:  rooms that housed only one person?  When they could fit a dozen Murans to one of those rooms?  Ludicrous!  If everyone slept in their own rooms, how would they even share their dreams?

After their meal, Reepchip was taken aside by one of the Clan Elders.  “You feel uncertain of yourself,” said Elder Reeseevee.

Reepchip told him everything--his mysterious addition to the team, his difficulty finding a place within the team, how he’d accidentally terrified a teammate--and how he was grateful that the Federation did not add bones to their ships as did the Olvern.

To that last, Elder Reesseevee Charatetet laughed.  “Young Reepchip, you are far too squeamish.  Indeed, a Muran Shaman in the skies should know how to incorporate the bones.”  He became more serious.  “What is more, a Shaman who serves in a warzone must be willing to do far more in deadly earnest than what you did in jest.  The minds of your foes are your target, and madness is your weapon.”

Reepchip sat there, listening quietly.

“The battleground is no place for the timid.  There will be times when you must be ruthless--and even horrifying.  If your squad has you as a scout, then be willing to use your telepathy to make yourself beneath all notice.  Reepchip--you have undergone your Rites.  It is past time you acted like it.”

The two continued talking until it was time to go to bed.  Elder Reesseevee arranged for Reepchip to sleep with the soldiers in the household, that he might Dream with them.  He knew that growing up on Agavan, Reepchip had seen little fighting.  Perhaps even in the Muransurak Academy and Starfleet, there’d been little of that.  Well, he would be seeing much soon.

Commander Mayla Vree

Spacedock, Earth

Stardate 2104.16

Mayla sat on the lip of one of the many large window sills of Spacedock's passenger transfer level with a hand resting on the duffel bag beside her. She was still in her uniform and was casually leaning against the bulkhead where it met with the window at transporter station 27. She watched ships wait in line to dock or exchange passengers while she waited for the *SS Nova Maru* to arrive momentarily. The Antares Class 4 freighter was registered as an independent merchant freight carrier according to its IFF, and anyone else who inquired about it. But clandestinely, it was mainly used to shuttle Blackthorn personnel around inconspicuously within the Milky Way when needed. Upon receiving her message at Blackthorn, the ship was dispatched immediately to Earth. But it still took them almost a day to arrive. She had just arrived on a shuttle a few hours earlier.

"Paging passenger 1024Alpha, please approach transporter station 27."

She picked up her duffel and queued up at the station counter. Surrounding her were passengers all in similar fashion waiting for their various transports to arrive. These transporter stations allowed a quicker transfer of passengers and guests rather than having to dock every ship that arrived. The young Bolian cadet attendant looked at her and then her travel authorizations before gesturing over to one of the many transporter pads.

"Have a nice trip, Commander," he said to her. Mayla just gave him a smile and stepped up onto the pad. She materialized directly onto the small bridge of the Nova Maru. The ship's captain, a human male dressed in civilian clothing, was standing there to greet her.

"Commander Vree, I'm Captain Takeo Hara. Welcome aboard the *Nova Maru*. If you're ready, we can get going." It sounded like he was in a rush.

"Thank you, Captain. We can leave immediately."

Haro and his bridge crew of three people didn't waste any time. Within a minute, the *Nova Maru* was already cleared to leave Spacedock's area of operating space. In another few quick minutes, the *Nova Maru* had already left Earth's solar system. Captain Haro ordered a change of course and to increase speed.

"What is our destination?" Mayla asked.

He gestured to the only free chair available at a currently unused operations console. "We'll be at Bullseye in about twelve hours to rendezvous with the *USS John Muir*. They will take you the rest of the way."

Mayla sat down and crossed her arms across her chest. "Where is my final destination?"

"No one on this ship knows," Haro said as he sat down in his center chair. "Standing orders from Admiral Jasid. If we were ever to be compromised, we can't reveal what we don't know."

She nodded in return. "Understandably."

"All I can say is that it's very far away."

Mayla heard a chuckle murmur throughout the three other crew on the bridge. "I guess that's a standing joke."

"It is," he chuckled. "I don't often get to say it, but it's still funny every time I do."

She spent the first few of the twelve hours conversing with Haro and the crew about their duties and their backgrounds. It was obvious to them she was a high profile passenger when orders came directly from the admiralty that they were to make best speed to Spacedock to pick her up. And her last name was a clear indicator she had to be related somehow to Admiral Vree. Rumor had it that this was his daughter. She was young enough to be. But either because of or in spite of that, they had to sometimes remind themselves they may be under some scrutiny.

For the rest of the trip she took a long nap in the reclined position of her chair with an overhead covering deployed from the back of her chair to keep out the sounds on the bridge. These smaller ships had self contained sleep modules built into the chairs now to save space from having to secure extra quarters on a ship and make room to carry more cargo. But in this case, the Nova Maru had both. It proved to be handy especially with a small crew always in transit as a freight transport ship.

*"Admiral?"*

*Her eyes opened and looked over to the male ensign. "Yes?"*

*"Is this where you wanted to go?" He gestured to the open turbolift doors in front of them that led to the Command Center.*

*She blinked once and nodded. "Yes, thank you, Ensign." She clasped the padd behind her back as she strode to the Captain's master station that overlooked the large Command Center of Starbase Umbra One.*

*"Good morning, Admiral," Captain Sig Hillstrand said from his chair. "Early start?"*

*She handed him the padd she was carrying. "Yes. I wanted to review the deployment schedules with you."*

*Hillstrand thumbed through the padd. "There's a transport leaving for Kazis IX tomorrow. They can swing by the Neutral Zone to drop off the operative. Is that satisfactory?"*

*"Yes, it is." She had already committed the schedule to memory. "I would also like to inquire about-"*

*A tremor suddenly reverberated through the deck plating as the ablative armor began to deploy around the station. Then the red alert klaxon sounded at the same time.*

*"Report," Hillstrand asked calmly, getting up from his chair. Several screens opened up above his console with stationwide status reports. He didn't have to look at his well trained bridge crew to question them. He knew as well as she that they were all highly trained and experienced. She had hand picked them all herself.*

*Lieutenant Commander Katerina Trance reported from her station. "Proximity sensors detect three ships within our green zone perimeter Alpha. Computer cannot identify the make nor origin of the ships."*

*"How did they get so close without the quantum sensors detecting them? I thought they were designed to detect cloaked ships?" Hillstrand asked no one in particular while bringing up additional data above his desk.*

*She just watched and listened intently. The three ships had just materialized inside their green zone, and it was no cloaking device they were using. She knew of only one type of ship that could do this, and had read the reports on it when the* USS Revenant *arrived weeks earlier with Bravo Squad's data from the possible future Linea invasion. But for now, she kept the information to herself and watched to see what would happen next.*

*"Unknown, sir. I have already queried the sensor engineers and expect a full systems check immediately."*

*Lieutenant Commander Parlik Jacharin, the Zakdorn tactical officer reported from his station. "All three ships have neither discernible active weapons nor shields activated. Alert patrols are in route and will arrive in forty seconds. Station is at red alert and all weapons systems online to engage. The* Anubis *and the* Fury *have ejected their docking collars. They are coming about and will have a targeting solution on the largest ship in five seconds."*

*She remained standing beside Hillstrand's chair while staring at the somehow familiar two corvette class ships and the much larger destroyer. A faint memory in the back of her mind recognized them as Linea warships of the line. But she didn't understand why the knowledge wasn't addressed at all in the front of her mind.*

*Trance jumped right in as if the entire Ops crew had previously rehearsed this like a drill. "We're receiving standard SO IFF. They are identifying themselves as the* USS Vanquish*, the* USS Shadowfell, *and the* USS Wolfsbane *is the largest ship. The computer has confirmed our roster does not match any ships with those names or ship types. The same on any Federation registry."*

*She glanced over to Lieutenant Commander Chalan Neela, the bajoran communications officer, who was tapping keys to identify an incoming transmission and sensor reading. "Sir, I'm receiving SO coded command transponder algorithms. Computer is decoding...and have positively authenticated. Codes are attached to the Shadow Operations team-Bravo Squad."*

*Captain Hillstrand turned to her with a frown. "They're back."*

*Chalan's fingers ran over her console as they received an encrypted communications channel. "Admiral, the* Vanquish *is hailing us. It's acting Captain Kyril Vree." Her voice rose with a little bit of excitement. "Bravo Squad is reporting in, sir."*

*She kept a stoic face that hid any emotion. "On screen." Kyril Vree appeared on the screen wearing standard SO fatigues standing at attention in front of what was taken as the captain's chair on the spartan looking bridge.*

*"Admiral Sorvek, it is good to see you."*

*She looked at him and hid a smile. "Captain Vree, welcome back. We have much to discuss."*

*"Aye sir. It is good to be back home. I request Quarantine Level Black Alpha for our three ships here. Please give us berth in a secured area and a full security detail at the docking ports. No one on or off until processed."*

*"Dockmaster will comply." She nodded to the Dockmaster, then said to Hillstrand, "Do as he says."*

*Hillstrand gestured to the computer, which immediately became ready to receive orders. "Stand down to yellow alert. Full quarantine containment of the berths 4 through 7, including all communications blackouts and transporter jamming protocols enabling."*

*She took a few steps to stand beside the captain. "Please have a full security detail at every egress, and deploy the Whisker drones around the ships with full camouflage and weapons online. I do not want anyone seeing or accessing these ships while they're docked. Please have the* Anubis *and the* Fury *to station themselves nearby their docking berths in case this is not what it seems. Is that understood?"*

*Hillstrand nodded once. "Aye."*

*She closed her eyes for a moment thinking with secret relief that Bravo Squad was finally home. They had been gone for nearly three years on their campaign that took them beyond the Milky Way. She wondered how the team had held together. She looked forward to debriefing them, something that would take weeks at least, if not months. A voice called out from beside her.*

"Commander? We've arrived."

Mayla blinked a few times while coming out of her sleep. She raised an arm and pressed a key to remove the covering over her chair. "We're here?"

"We are. The John Muir is at our forward bow. They are ready for you to beam over."

"Very well." She shook her head to clear it. Was that a dream, or was it Sorvek's memory of Bravo Squad's return from their multi-year mission to stop the Linea? It felt strange to live through a memory like that, if it really was a memory and not just a dream. She looked at the viewscreen to see what looked like a black-hulled Sovereign-class ship outside.

"Are you alright, Commander?"

Mayla gave them a dismissive wave. "I'm fine. Tell them I'm ready to beam over."

Commander Mayla Vree

*USS John Muir*, Location designated only as Bullseye

Stardate 2104.16

A male Betazoid ensign standing beside the transporter console took a few steps towards her in greeting as soon as she materialized on the pad. "Commander, Captain Diwali would like you to join him on the Bridge. I'll hang on to your duffel for you."

Mayla silently handed it over to him and gave a nod of thanks to the transporter chief before following the ensign out to the Bridge.

The captain was a tall man with Earth Maori markings on his face, neck, and back of his hands. Basically every part of exposed skin that could be seen. Even his bald head was adorned with inked tattoos. His crisply pressed uniform and the way he carried himself indicated he was a serious man of few words. And when the John Muir captain stood up and gave her a forced smile when she entered, it seemed to vindicate her first impression of the man.

"I'm Captain Razer Diwali. Welcome aboard," he said with what sounded like an ancient earth dialect accent.

"Thank you, Captain."

He then took out a small box from a coat pocket and opened it. "Commander Mayla Vree, I have been authorized by the Blackthorn admiralty to provisionally promote you to the rank of Fleet Admiral. You are afforded this rank anytime you are in Blackthorn purview." He handed her the full admiral's bars, which she immediately replaced her commander's bars on to her uniform. "Computer, recognize Fleet Admiral Mayla Vree and activate Blackthorn rank and file for her."

The computer made several beeps before responding. "Fleet Admiral Mayla Vree is recognized. Welcome aboard, Admiral."

"Admiral on the Bridge!" Diwali announced. Everyone came to attention.

"As you were," she said, looking at the different faces of the bridge crew. Then to Diwali. "Glad to be on board, Captain. Thanks for the ride."

He just gave her an expressionless nod and turned to his helmsman. "Helm, engage cloaking device and make course for Bullseye Prime at warp 8."

"Aye, sir. Course already set."

"Execute."

Mayla now looked at the woman closer with the familiar voice at the helm. She was a tall, thin lanky human woman with short cropped hair. When the ship entered warp, she turned around and gave Mayla a smile.

"Admiral, happy to see you again."

In spite of herself, Mayla couldn't help but to return the smile. "Commander Reece." She almost wanted to walk over to give her a hug.

"We'll talk later," Commander Antonia Reece, formerly of Bravo Squad, said to her with a wink. "Maybe we'll catch a movie."

The trill was suddenly a little girl again watching ancient action movies with the flamboyant shadow operative. "I would like that. Top Gun:Maverick?"

Reece gave her a wink. "You got it."

"Admiral," Diwali jumped in, somewhat irritated at the light banter. "We should be meeting up with the *USS Harbinger* in about seven hours, then to Blackthorn Base after that. You can stay here if you'd like, or you can get some rest in your quarters. You have free reign of the ship, of course."

"I'd like to stay here, if you don't mind, Captain. I rested on the *Nova Maru.*" Going to sleep again at that moment didn't seem too enticing considering her last dream. Diwali was showing obvious signs he didn't like her being on board his ship. Then a keen eye caught sight of the commissioning plaque next to the viewscreen. It was not the plaque for the *USS John Muir*.

"This used to be the *Fearless*?" She said out loud and pointed at the plaque. Then all of a sudden Meg's voice spoke to her.

'Sorvek was able to procure the *USS Fearless* when it was decided it was to be decommissioned under the guise of a refit and assigned to a long exploratory mission.' Meg said

'So this ship is being allocated to Blackthorn? Does Admiral Clancy know of this?'

'No. She is only under the impression it is going on a long exploratory mission. I will be providing cover for the *John Muir* and her crew from now on.' Meg said.

Mayla inwardly shook her head, still unable to comprehend the massive amount of computing power this AI had. 'How many more ships did Sorvek secretly procure?'

'He currently has several under surveillance if they are to ever be decommissioned.'

'And what about the crews?'

'All assigned the same, but clandestinely sent to Blackthorn Base on volunteered long term assignments.'

'So you are still recruiting.'

'I am.'

Mayla was beginning to see that Sorvek didn't have everything in the files he bestowed upon her. Now she began to wonder what else he had put into motion that he didn't 'tell' her, even though she had all of his memories.

Diwali responded to her question, not hearing the conversation she just had with the AI Meg. "It is. It was recommissioned and given a new name-the *USS John Muir*. It's been assigned for a deep exploratory mission. Commander Reese and I were dispatched from the Base with a team of bridge officers and a few engineers to retrieve the ship with its crew of new assignees to Blackthorn Base."

"I see," she said. "May I ask what's our final destination?"

"Binary Star System Jewel in the Gallifrey Galaxy; about 250 million light years from here." He answered flatly.

"Is it inhabited?"

"No. But it is in Whovian space."

The names meant nothing to her. But it was interesting to know all the same. She looked around for a seat and Diwali gestured to the third chair beside him. She gladly took the seat and without batting an eye, she began to ask him questions about the fleet and his duties with Blackthorn.

Diwali was curt when answering each question this young Trill woman was asking him. It was clear who she was by her surname, and it showed obvious nepotism by Admiral Vree to give her a provisional rank of admiral. And to add to it was she knew his helmsman, Reece, whom he'd been working with for years. But his built up wall of acrimony began to chip away as the hours went by talking with the younger Vree at length. She reminded him of his discussions with Admiral Sorvek. The Vulcan's emotionless and indifference to approach a problem with a solution of the mind, and not of emotions saved his life more than once. Sorvek's death was a deep blow to him. His indebtedness to Sorvek was beyond measure even before he began his career with Starfleet. Now Sorvek was gone, and he wasn't even allowed to attend the funeral. Mayla Vree's questions, comments, insights, just had a painful familiar ring of Sorvek's conversational tact, and an angry reminder of his loss. And her knowledge of Blackthorn details clearly dawned on him that she was much more than just the Admiral's daughter.

The seven hours of travel started off slow, but the later hours seemingly went by swifter than expected and they soon entered the area of space indicated by the rendezvous coordinates. This part of space was surrounded by various gases, comets, nebulae, and a few dead stars; nothing that would seriously impede a traversing ship. But this very small patch of space was a rarity as the surrounding cosmic environment prevented sensors from penetrating this area from anything beyond about a light hour-a billion kilometer diameter blob of space. This area was sometimes used by Shadow Operations in the past to hide ships. There had even been a plan to build a large cache depot here to store ships and weapons, monitored and secured by automated sentries. But when Shadow Operations was shut down, the depot remained only an idea in a computer's data storage.

The *John Muir* approached the coordinates set as Bullseye Prime, and there was no excitement or exclamation on the bridge when on the viewscreen a large ship slowly came into view. The ship was massive, the size of Earth's Spacedock. Mayla immediately recognized the obvious non-Starfleet designed ship as a Linea Nemesis-class assault carrier. From Sorvek's files, she knew this particular one was formerly called the *Hammerwind*, but now rechristened as the *USS Harbinger* when Blackthorn salvaged it after the Linea abandoned it. During their infiltration over a decade earlier, Bravo Squad's Kindred Dakota had fired a viral torpedo into the ship that infected those with a specifically coded DNA unique to the Linea, killing everyone on board. After nearly a year of unsuccessfully trying to clear out the virus and hundreds of deaths in the attempt, the Linea finally left it adrift and abandoned it. Blackthorn salvaged it and made it a part of their fleet after applying the antivirus Dakota had already developed.

When Diwali ordered to decloak the ship, five Linea prowler fighters instantly appeared in their path to intercept them. After a brief exchange of authentication codes, the fighters escorted the *John Muir* within the Harbinger's defensive perimeter. After a few minutes, they peeled off and headed back to their patrol grid.

"Hail the *Harbinger* Dockmaster," Diwalli ordered. "Send them our John Muir IFF and prefix codes and prepare for handshake. Request synchronization for hangar bay 3 Alpha."

A voice sounded over the speaker. "Welcome back, Captain Diwali. You are cleared to approach hangar bay 3. We'll catch you when you cross the threshold."

"Commander Reece, if you would please."

"Aye, Captain." Reece said, almost gleefully.

Mayla had forgotten how large Linea warships were. She was only 15 years old the last time she'd seen one. She seemed calm while sitting in her chair, but was gripping the armrest as memories of her time with the Linea came back to her. She just stared at the viewscreen as they approached a large docking bay door opening. Reece expertly maneuvered the sovereign class ship through the doors into the massive hangar bay.

"This is Docking Control, navigational handshake locked. Enjoy the ride." The announcement came over the speaker.

"Affirmative, Docking Control. You have control." Reece smiled as she shut down all propulsion and then leaned back in her chair. The internal tractor beams guided the ship to a dedicated docking pylon nearly a kilometer in where the ship would be processed.

Outside, the space doors slowly closed and the carrier began to recover their dozens of patrol fighters in smaller hangar bays scattered throughout the ship. Once they were all aboard, and without any indication or warning, the massive ship instantly vanished.

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Runabout *Harmony*

Stardate 2104.16

Jahkar had requested and been granted use of a runabout by Admiral MacLeod. He had been planning on taking a transport to Bajor, but a runabout would get him there faster and it would be available to get him and Tiri back to Umbra Prime much more quickly if they were needed.

The night before the trip the Marine had been concerned about whether he had made a bad choice by asking the young Andorian to travel to Bajor with him. It might appear there was something going on between them – which there wasn’t. But would others on the team think any different?

He shook off the thoughts and met Tiri at the runabout at 0700 hours. Both were in civilian clothes and carrying duffels containing their clothes and other belongings for the trip.

Tiri arrived at the runabout and began pre-flight diagnostics as she settled into the pilot’s seat. She figured Jahkar had limited piloting experience, especially with runabouts. She’d been certified on runabouts and shuttles at the academy so this would be old hat.

Overnight she had not slept well, questioning her decision to join Jahkar on this trip. She felt like she might be intruding a little. They would be staying at Jahkar’s home he built with his late, ex-wife. His daughter would likely be there.

Daughter…who was about her age…no that wouldn’t be awkward at all, would it?

She was almost convinced she should stay behind, when Jahkar came aboard the runabout and tossed his bag in the aft compartment.

Tiri settled back into her chair and offered the Marine a smile, “How’d you manage a runabout?”

Jahkar gave her a devilish glance, “Well, we have plenty of them on this station and, well, MacLeod and I have always gotten along.”

“He’s Chas’naH’s father, isn’t he?” Tiri asked, recounting what knowledge she had gleaned about the half-Klingon woman. “You’re still close despite you and Chas’naH no longer being together?”

Jahkar looked down as he settled into the co-pilot’s chair. He was quiet a moment then nodded, “Yes, he always thought she and I should have married. I would have, but she could never stay put long enough.”

Tiri nodded as the computer told her the ship was ready to launch. She signaled operations and awaited clearance to depart, as she did, she sensed Jahkar was uneasy.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry”

He shook his head, “No, you didn’t. It’s OK…so, need me to do anything?”

The Andorian looked at the holographic display and shrugged, “Sit tight. Relax. I got this.”

He grinned, “Afraid of my piloting skills? I do have some, you know.”

“How does the saying go?” she asked with a grin. “Fleet does the flying…”

“And Marines do the dying,” Jahkar smirked. “Yeah, I don’t think that applies here, Tiri.”

Tiri laughed as she was cleared to launch. “Poor choice of sayings.”

Her hands danced across the holographic display and the runabout raised from the deck, the boarding hatch closing and then she started toward the bay doors which were slowly opening.

A short time later, the *Harmony* left the station and soared away from Saturn, going on to clear the planet’s gravitational pull before Tiri ordered the ship to go to warp – bound for Bajor…

Admiral Ian MacLeod

Starfleet Command, San Francisco

Earth

Stardate 2104.16

MacLeod took a shuttle and flew to Earth, landing at Starfleet Headquarters a short time later. The admiral made his way to the tower at Starfleet Command which housed the offices for many of the upper brass.

Arriving on the sixteenth floor, MacLeod stepped out of the turbolift and walked the short distance to an office clearly marked with the name “Admiral Kathryn Janeway.” The Scot found the door open, a flurry of activity inside, so he stepped through the doorway with caution.

Inside, he found Janeway busy packing her belongings while a young yeoman stood by taking dictation while the admiral recited a letter she was having the other woman compose.

Janeway looked up as MacLeod cleared his throat and she smiled, “Take a break Yeoman Hathaway. It appears I have a visitor. The young woman nodded, saved the document on the PADD she carried, and then walked through another door into the rest of Janeway’s office.

“Ian,” she said. “Sorry, you caught me in the middle of my move. What can I do for you?”

MacLeod closed the door behind him, then walked over and shut the door the yeoman had just used. By the time he’d finished, he had Janeway’s complete attention as she stared inquisitively at him.

“Admiral, I’d like to know why you approved putting alien technology into *Resurrection* when you had no idea what exactly it could do or where it came from?” MacLeod asked.

“Clancy apparently told you. Makes sense, I had to have this same conversation with Sorvek when I told him,” she said. “I know, it seems a bit rash…”

“Rash?” MacLeod bristled. “It was bloody reckless. Every time that crew jumps somewhere, there is a chance they won’t make it to their destination. The folding of space is tricky business, and Carmichael and his team really don’t know how that technology works.”

Janeway sighed, “They know enough. They are familiar enough with it to make the jumps, to return from those jumps and to conduct repairs. They have a full understanding of more than 80 percent of the coaxial drive.”

“Eighty percent? Bloody hell Kathryn, that missing 20 percent of knowledge is what concerns me,” MacLeod rumbled. “All attempts to retro-engineer the technology has failed. And the rest of that bloody alien ship is sitting on the floor in some hangar at Utopia Planatia...who knows if it’s even still intact or if it was burned in the fires.”

Janeway held up her hands, surrendering to MacLeod who was beginning to show his anger, “Ian...I understand your concern. I’m sorry. When we were out in the Delta Quadrant, I was constantly faced with the possibility that we would find alien technology that might get us home. I was prepared to make that decision, even if it was untested. I suppose that is why I was so quick to utilize the coaxial drive in Resurrection once it ended up fused there.”

MacLeod shook his head, “It was a dangerous decision. I’ve been told by Admiral Clancy that we are stuck with it...work with it or ask for reassignment. I’m also forbidden from discussing it with my officers.”

Janeway cocked a grin, “Which you’ve done anyway.”

MacLeod looked down and gave a snort, “Perhaps. I just needed to know why you allowed it?”

“Because I have faith in Lt. Commander Carmichael and his team,” she said. “And, I suppose, that sense of throwing caution to the wind I developed aboard Voyager.”

He shook his head, “Regardless...I guess we’re stuck with it for now.” The Scot then took a look around, “Relocating offices?”

“My new posting in the exploratory division of Starfleet is taking me off-world,” said Janeway. “I’ll be posted to Deep Space 4 overseeing exploration missions into the Beta Quadrant.”

MacLeod nodded, “Well, best of luck to you. I hope your trip there is safe.”

Janeway smiled and folded her arms across her chest, “That’s it? Are you done chewing me out?”

“Pretty much,” he offered. “I wanted to get that off my chest. It still doesn’t sit well with me. But we’ll deal with it.”

Janeway walked over and gave MacLeod a hug, which at first he was a little taken back about, but finally he became less rigid and accepted the embrace.

“Take care of yourself, Ian,” she said. “Put some trust in your engineer...he’s damn good at what he does.”

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Earth

Stardate 2104.18

Daryl materialized in Los Angeles, Malibu Beach, along with Beckett and McCulloch.

Daryl looked at the sea and inhaled deeply.

"Oh man, I missed that smell." McCulloch looked at Beckett and shrugged. Thompson grinned and faced his fellow operatives. "Can't wait to dive into the water with my board!"

Beckett and McCulloch stared at him. "I had enough exercise with that Ironman run." McCulloch replied. Beckett nodded firmly in agreement. Thompson rolled his eyes.

"Sure." He replied. "Come on, let's go."

Lt Commander William McCulloch

Earth

Stardate 2104.18

The Scot followed Beckett and Thompson towards the water. As they stood near the shoreline, the Scot leaned slightly back, closed his eyes and listened to the roar of the ocean.

“Are there beaches like this in Scotland or Caldos Colony?” Beckett asked.

McCulloch laughed slightly before answering. “Caldos is a complete knock-off of Scotland and Scottish beaches are...well...very cold. How did you think I developed this fine light blue skin tone?”

Thompson smirked before gesturing for the pair to follow him.

“Where are we off to?” Will asked.

“My sisters. We’ll grab something to eat there before we hit the beach and town.”

“Are your sisters cute?” The Scot pressed again, knowing he was pushing his luck.

“We’re not going down that road.” Thompson replied.

“Why? It’s not for me...it’s for Beckett.” The Scot protested..

“Wh-what?” Beckett answered with a tone of confusion.

“Well, I mean if we don’t keep him occupied, he’s going to end up across the continent in New England visiting Ms. Pickering.” McCulloch announced loudly. “And we know what will happen if we allow that to happen again.”

“That hurt.” Beckett replied. “It wasn’t my fault that your assistant molested me.”

“I’m not sure if that is the appropriate description of how the events transpired.” Thompson answered as the trio set off towards his sisters’ place.

“She’s on Earth?” Beckett asked after a moment of silence.

“Perhaps.” Will answered.

The Scot noted to himself that if Beckett asked he would gladly give the coordinates to where Sarah Pickering was staying. But his former executive assistant would be the least of his worries if he decided to visit. The Lieutenant would have to deal with her older brother and sister-in-law...both retired personnel from Marine Ops Force Alpha.

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’aveilth

Bajor

Stardate 2104.18

With the runabout *Harmony* in orbit of Bajor, Jahkar and Tiri received clearance from the Bajoran government to beam down to Jahkar’s home in the Eastern Province. A lush, wilderness region of Bajor where many crystal lakes and beautiful waterfalls could be found.

They materialized on the property outside the house, about 100 feet from the front door, in the middle of the morning. Outside, it was a beautiful day with the sun creeping up over the trees and a warm breeze flowing through the green valley where the house was located.

Jahkar looked around and was pleased to see the lawn care company in the nearby town of Kerash he’d contracted to take care of the upkeep had been doing their job. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he glanced over to Tiri and nodded his head toward the house.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

Tiri was too preoccupied looking around at the beautiful scenery in the valley to notice the house at first. She’d spent a little time on Bajor in the past, but never outside the major cities. This place was extraordinary.

She looked at the house and gave a soft whistle, “Nice. This place is incredible. Is that a waterfall over there?”

Jahkar looked in the direction Tiri was looking, and he saw the Tonales Falls about a half kilometer away. “Yes, that’s about a 1,000-foot drop from the top of the falls to the river below. Ilia picked the spot. She liked it here.”

“I can see why,” the Andorian said, the Bajoran wind blowing her snow-white hair behind her. “If you don’t mind, I think once we settle in I’m going to take a hike up to those falls.”

Jahkar smiled and started toward the house. “Sure. I may come along if that’s OK?” They arrived at the door and Jahkar keyed in an access code, which caused the door to slide open. They stepped into the house and immediately learned they were not alone.

Music was playing and Jahkar and Tiri could both smell raktajino brewing on the stove. From down a hallway running to the other side of the house, a young woman appeared. She stood about five-foot, ten-inches in height with a slender, athletic build. Her long, dark hair was curly and hung past her shoulders and she had subtle ridges on her forehead, slightly pointed ears and the familiar nose ridge of a Bajoran.

“Dad!” she squealed, running across the room to practically jump on Jahkar, her arms thrown tightly around his shoulders. The Marine dropped his bag and embraced her as she gave him a huge hug. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

Jahkar returned the hug and laughed, “Your hair is wet…I’m guessing you just got out of the shower?”

“I pulled a double shift yesterday, so I could get a couple days off to spend with you,” the girl said. “Oh! It’s so good to see you!”

Suddenly, the young woman stopped hugging Jahkar and her head slowly turned around with a gaze directed at Tiri. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively, “Um…who’s this?”

“This is Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith,” Jahkar said, making a hand gesture toward the young lieutenant. “She’s a friend. I thought I’d bring her along and show her Bajor.”

He looked at the Andorian, “Tiri, allow me to introduce my daughter, Kedanya.”

Tiri had heard Jahkar speak of his children, but when she saw this adult woman, clearly a mixed Bajoran, Klingon and Romulan, the reality set in. His kids were grown-ups. Immediately Tiri began to gauge Kedanya’s reaction to her, trying to sense whether she was OK with her being there or if she saw this as an intrusion.

“Hi,” Tiri said. “Nice to meet you.”

Kedanya looked at Tiri for a long time, a confused smile spread across her face, and she reached over and shook the lieutenant’s hand. “Likewise. So, you two work together?”

“Yes,” Jahkar confirmed. “We were talking just before shore leave and Tiri said she’d never really seen Bajor before, outside the metropolitan areas, so I invited her to join me. I hope that’s OK with you?”

Kedanaya laughed, “Sure…of course. I’d be happy to show her around. I was hoping maybe Mayla would come with you. I haven’t seen her in forever.”

“She had personal business to attend to,” Jahkar said. “Maybe next time.”

Kedanya moved away from Jahkar and ran back down the hallway, noticeably dressed in what appeared to be pajamas, “I need to get dressed. Give me a couple minutes.”

“Take your time,” he told her. The Marine then walked into the kitchen area and approached the replicator, “Can I get you something?”

Tiri set down her duffle and shrugged, “Ice cold water would be good,” she said, then added as an afterthought, “Are you sure she’s OK with this?”

Jahkar ordered waters from the replicator, “She’s good. I just don’t think she expected anyone to be with me.”

“Commander Vree knows her?” Tiri asked, taking the glass of water.

Jahkar took a drink from his own glass and he nodded, “Mayla was a kid when Kedanya was born. Mayla’s dad was our CO in a team called Bravo Squad.”

The Andorian nodded and took a seat on a stool at an island in the kitchen. “I guess I forget how far back you all go. Thompson, Ryramorl and McCulloch. Is it odd to be commanded by a woman who was just a child when you were serving during the war?”

“I’ve told Mayla that before,” Jahkar said. “That girl was raised in Shadow Operations. She lives and breathes this life.”

Tiri smiled, “Really, if I’m going to be in the way here, I can make myself scarce. I can hike, stay in the town or go back to the runabout.”

“You’re not a problem,” Jahkar said. “Relax. There is a spare room back there. We’ll get you set up there.”

A short time later, Kedanya returned, dressed in a pair of khaki pants, boots and a black tanktop. Her hair no longer flowed behind her but was instead pulled into a ponytail and Tiri couldn’t help but see the likeness with her father.

“Kedanya, what do you do?” Tiri asked.

“I’m with the Bajoran Militia. I’m a corporal,” the young woman explained. “I work a police detail in the town of Kerash, about 15km from here.”

“Tried to get her to follow her mother’s footsteps into Starfleet, but she didn’t go for it,” Jahkar laughed. “Even nudged her a little to join the Federation Marine Corps.”

“I always wanted to come back here after dad moved us to Earth,” she said. “I was little when we had to leave. We came back for vacations and grandma…dad’s mother…even brought Tajel and I here sometimes for weeks or months when dad was busy with Marine business. When I had to decide what to do with my life, I chose to join the militia.”

“Do you live here year around?” Tiri asked.

“I spend most of my time on base in Kerash,” Kedanaya explained. “A couple weekends a month I come here.”

Jahkar’s daughter looked at the Andorian and considered her for a moment, then with a smile said, “So…are you and my dad seeing each other?”

“No!” Tiri blurted out nervously.

“Kedanya!” Jahkar barked. “Really, are you still 10 years old?”

“It is a legitimate question, Dad?” Kedanya said. “I mean, I’m not mad or anything if she is, it’s just weird you showing up here with a woman. You never even brought Chas’naH here that I remember.”

Tiri would have been blushing if her skin wasn’t blue, but said with a smile, “Your dad and I are just friends. I think he took pity on me because I had nowhere to go on shore leave.”

“I wouldn’t say pity,” he said. “I thought you’d enjoy yourself, especially after running the Ironman like you did.”

Kedanya looked at Tiri with a quizzical look, “Ironman…you mean that dreadful race that takes like almost a day to run?”

“The same,” Tiri laughed.

“Oh, I got to hear this?” Kedanya said.

“How about I tell it on a hike up to those falls near here?” Tiri said.

Jahkar stood up and clapped his hands together, “Sounds like a great idea. Tiri, room to the left down that hallway, that is the guest room. It’s yours for the duration.”

The Andorian grabbed up her bag and headed off down the hallway toward the room, “I’ll change into my hiking gear. See you shortly.”

Jahkar looked to Kedanya as she turned toward him with a questioning glance, “She’s a bit young…but I like her.”

“I told you, she’s a friend and colleague,” Jahkar said firmly. “That’s all, young one.”

“Whatever,” Kedanya said with a roll of her eyes. “She likes you. I can tell.”

“She’s your age,” Jahkar muttered. “Can’t I have a woman who is just a friend? Mayla is a friend. If I showed up with her here, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”

“Because it’s Mayla. You’re like her uncle,” Kedanya said. “This is different.”

“Well, it isn’t,” he said, grabbing his bag and heading toward his bedroom. “I need to change. Replicate us some food and water, that hike takes a few hours.”

“I’m on it,” she said, turning toward the replicator. “We’ll discuss this later.”

First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral

Chief of the Chieftains Holder of the Name Myaral in all the Tribes of Ra’yral

King Cossamarsee Tanavaronvaron

Chief Arrowar Yaryan in the Merno Hills

Chief Cxic Dar Szen of the Dar Szen Murans

Chief O’aldamandas Dergon Bend Yarman River

Chief Ordanrel Yorwel Island Tomma Sea

Chief First Elder Name Ray’oro in the Yeero Tribe of Ra’yral

Pillar of Ra’yral, Yarman Delta, Ra’yral Plains, Kingdom of Olavaron

Stardate 2104.18

It is a simple fact of Carnora geopolitics that the territories claimed by the various races and subraces of the Carnora regularly overlap.  A good example was the Yarman Delta in the northwest of the Ra’yral plains.  The whole of the plains are claimed by the Ra’yral, but those plains were also wholly within the Muran kingdom Olavaron.  The Yarman Delta was also claimed by the Tomma Sea Atarans and the Yarman River Atarans, who blended with each other and the Ra’yrals to create the Yarman Delta Tribe, which at once belonged to all three and was sometimes caught in the middle of their disputes.  Finally, the delta was home to the Dar Szen Murans, one of the few Sral Muran tribes to live outside the Yarrowan Swamps.  The Carnora political map with its enclaves, exclaves, enclaves within exclaves, exclaves within enclaves, and regions claimed by everyone for miles around all at once kept Carnora atlases massive, Carnora cartographers wealthy, and Federation political scientists confused.

One of the heaviest duties of King Cossamarsee Tanavaronvaron was to mediate disputes pertaining to the others who claimed the delta.  He often likened the the Yarman Delta to the Horghenhar of his kingdom--as a tamed Horghenhar was a mighty beast that could do a great deal of work, the Yarman Delta being claimed by so many groups resulted in abundant trade and influence, but if that Horghenhar decided to bolt and the tribes go to war, the best he could do was hang on for dear life and pray to every god for survival.  So when the city watchers heard the Far Callers of the Ra’yral calling for a meeting of all tribes at the Great Pillar of Ra’yral, which was in the Delta, he knew something big was up.  He had his own Far Callers relay the message that he would send his representatives there as well--only for the Far Callers to reply that his personal presence was requested.

Well, that was interesting.  This would be an important meeting indeed.

It wasn’t just the court of King Cossamarsee and the tribes of the Ra’yral; everyone who laid claim to the Delta had shown up, and the whole thing had the feel of a massive trade fair.

As the commoners amongst the various Carnora tribes mingled and traded, Myaral held a large meeting of the Ra’yral Chiefs, Elders (his brother Ryramorl included), and Holders of Names, with special invitations to all the non-Olvern leaders and a few Olverns who weren’t considered amongst the Ra’yral elite.

King Cossamarsee felt relief--Myaral had both palms bared.

Myaral opened the meeting.  For those unfamiliar with the Ra’yral language, he’d arranged for Shamans to sit by them and maintain physical contact, so that they could understand what was being said.  “Greetings, and Let Us Share Water.”  All attendees took the vessels provided them and drank.  “For those of you who are unaware, I was on Kazis IX--a world in the Sky beyond the Skies--quite recently.  I was there to pass on bones that belonged to the one who once Held the name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of the Ra’yral; these bones went to my brother, the First Elder of that name.  While I was there, I encountered a group of Ra’yral from many different tribes that had joined together in an unofficial tribe.  Since then, I have had contact with them, and they asked if they could become a full tribe in their own right.”

The other Ra’yral chiefs conferred.  “What is their territory?” asked one ancient Olvern--King Cossamarsee thought it might be Chief First Elder Name Ray’oro in the Yeero Tribe who guarded his little oasis fanatically.

“Their territory is not on this plain,” explained High Chief Myaral.  “It is on another world entirely.”

“You cast your net very wide, Olvern,” said O’aldamandas Dergon Bend Yarman River.  “Can you rule over someone so far away, seeing as you are of an Ancient Tribe yourself?”

“My tribe knows I intend to be less of a High Chief of an Ancient Tribe, and be more like the Younger Tribes.  Some of the Chiefs”--he looked at a few of them--”Have been helping me with this.  With great patience.”  There was some laughter.  “But these far-flung Ra’yral came to me to ask this, to grant their banding together the legitimacy of a Ra’yral Tribe, and I am willing to grant it, but I seek the opinions of the other tribes as well.”

There was much discussion amongst the Tribes.  Chief O’aldamandas asked, “I know some of my tribe are on that world as well.  Will the alliance here hold there?”

“I have seen the challenges they face,” said Myaral.  “The Carnora need all the solidarity they can get, so our alliance will be on there as it is here.  All alliances will be so.”  He looked at the others.

First Elder Ray’oro Yeero voted against their inclusion, but that was to be expected from a Chief who lived to be cantankerous; the rest of the Chieftains agreed that the Ra’yral on Kazis IX should be their own tribe, since such far-flung tribe members would be impossible to rule over otherwise.

“Who will be their chief?” asked Myaral.

An Olvern--only a few years past his Rites of Manhood, stepped forwards, as the others from Kazis explained he’d been their leader since his eldest brother was killed in the battle with the Blood Way.  “I am Fourth Name Ra’alor in the Yeermar Tribe of Ra’yral, Honoured High Chief,” came the reply as he bared his throat.”

Myaral touched his tusk to it.  He took a pot of mud--made from the ground, water, and herbs of the Ra’yral Plains.  When Ra’alor lowered his head again, Myaral had him kneel.  Myaral cut Ra’alor’s forhead open with his claw, then rubbed in the mud.  “The home soil of the Ra’yral shall go with you wherever you go.  Who has loaned you his name?”

“I have allowed him to continue using it,” said Holder of the Name Ra’alor in the Yeermar Tribe of Ra’yral.

“Will you let him hold that name in a new tribe?”

“I do allow it, for he has borne it well.”

“Rise, Chief Holder of the Name Ra’alor in the Kazis Tribe of Ra’yral.”

Outside the tent, the Carnora turned as a roar of joy could be heard across the grounds.  Many guessed that one rumoured bit of business--the establishment of a tribe on Kazis IX--had gone well.

The next candidate, however, took almost everyone by surprise:  The Yaryan Tribe wanted to merge with one of the Ra’yral tribes.

“This I must personally protest against,” said King  Cossamarsee.  “If you do this, the Ro’ar are going to come down on your heads like a typhoon.”

“We may be allies,” said Cxic Dar Szen through the Shaman assigned to her.  “But my tribe is few, and a hail of spears from them would wipe us out.”

“Myaral, your tribe is strong, but do you really think you can stand up to the Ro’ar?  You’re not the only tribe with Younger Tribes; Lyar has taken over a lot of the old colonies,” said Chief O’aldamandas.

The Great Sea Ataran Chief Ordanrel Yorwel Island Tomma Sea had been silent.  Finally he spoke in heavily accented Ra’yral.  “Myaral.  Convince me you are fit to be High Chief by not baring your tribe’s throat to Ro’ar’s claw!”

“If Lyar decides to fight, I will face him, myself, in a Great Duel.”

There was more silence.  A Great Duel between High Chiefs was a terrific gamble, the Ro’ar could order the Ra’yral tribes to be scattered to the winds and the Ra’yral La’an to be destroyed.  The Ro’ar could even decide to utterly wipe out all the Ra’yral--but such an action, while legal according to the Customs of the Olvern, would bring massive disgrace on the heads of Ro’ar, and nobody would fault the erstwhile Ra’yral from defending themselves.  Most likely, if Myaral lost, the Ra’yral would need to find a new heir, and perhaps regroup under a new name.

What was more, no High Chief had challenged another to a Great Duel since before the Great Teaching.  Myaral was taking a bold step indeed.

“Remember, the Yaryan have come to us, asking to be absorbed by the Ra’yral because they do not wish to be ruled by the Ro’ar.”

There was long silence.  Finally, Ray’oro Yeero spoke.  “You risk your life for the sake of a tribe not of Ra’yral Blood, nor even of the Plains Olvern.”

“I also risk my life to stand against the rising power of the Ro’ar, and more importantly against Lyar and Rolandhro.  Should either become OverKing, their overconfidence and love of tailgroomers would be our downfall.  Even now I see the Klingons look towards us as predators look at prey.  Shor-Ghan speaks with one in the Courts, but is he friend or spy I do not know.”  He took a deep breath.  “Also, there is this:  If the Yaryan come to us, and are turned away, the other tribes may submit in lack of hope despite the Ro’ar’s defiance of the Customs.  But if we accept them, the Ro’ar will know that their violation will not be rewarded.”

After a long silence, Ray’oro nodded.  “Then I vote for them to be included.”  It was not a quick vote as the previous one had been, but one by one the Ra’yrals agreed to let the Yaryan become one of them--and moreso, to welcome them as a new tribe even as they had the Kazis Tribe.

As Chief Arrowar Yaryan in the Merno Hills knelt before Myaral, the High Chief of the Ra’yrals cut his forehead, and marked him as Holder of the name Arrowar in the Yaryan Tribe of the Ra’yrals.

There was no cheer this time, only quiet welcomes, as all knew Myaral was taking a massive risk by doing this.  As the group left the Tent of Meeting, Chief Cxic Dar Szen remained behind, her eyes closed.  In her mind’s eye, she saw the massive plains of the Ra’yral--without their La’an.  Was this a premonition of Myaral’s downfall?  She didn’t know.  She rose, and went to go to her hut for more meditation, that she might more clearly see what was in store.

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt Cody Beckett

Earth

Stardate 2104.18

Daryl grinned as he saw the brightening face of Beckett at the idea of meeting Sarah Pickering again.

As they walked over the boulevard, which went parallel to the beach, Daryl reminisced about the times he was young and lived still with his parents. That time where he had no worries but to be on the beach early, to catch the best wave, together with his brother Julian. To hangout on the beach with their friends. That time, where Starfleet didn't play such a big role in his life.

"Whatcha pondering about, mate?" Beckett's voice broke through his ponderings. Then he realized he stood in front of the railing, gazing at the sea. He had to collect his thoughts and feelings for a moment before he answered.

"I was reminiscing about my youth. Back at the time my brother was still alive. " A sad smile played around his mouth.

"You had a brother? " McCulloch asked.

Daryl nodded, as he gazed again towards the sea. "Yeah. I did. He perished during the battle of Wolf 359, together with the crew of the ship he served on." Daryl replied. He looked down to the tiles of the boulevard, laid out in a perfect mosaic. "At least, that is what we hope." A gleam of anger and sadness shot over Thompson's face as he looked the other way, hiding the tears that welled up in his eyes. Even after so many years, the thoughts about his brother still hit him hard. He sighed deep and took another moment to collect himself before he looked at McCulloch and Beckett.

McCulloch slapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry to hear that mate. Must be hard. "

Daryl just nodded. "It is. It still is. I miss him."

McCulloch hesitated to ask the next question. "Did you ever consider he might be assimilated by those bastards? "

Daryl scoffed. " I did. Or shall I say, my alter ego did… . "

McCulloch looked at him with curious eyes. "What do you mean? "

Daryl subconsciously touched his chest, as yet another traumatic thought raised from the deep of his memory.

"I'm not allowed to speak about it, so this stays between us, understand? " Daryl said in a serious tone. McCulloch nodded.

"Of course..you have my word." Beckett nodded as well.

"Sure thing buddy."

"Ok then. During a mission with Bravo Squad I was killed, but resurrected. Or so they thought. For a yet unknown reason, Section 31 was able replace me with a clone. I was dumped on a backwater slave encampment, destined to die in the mines there. My alter ego, the clone, played his game well. He left SO to take on a temporary assignment and became a member of the BATF. The Borg Anti-TaskForce. It was a short-lived experiment of Starfleet Intelligence, where the most advanced ships, including quantum slipstream drives and very cool anti-Borg weaponry were sent on missions to learn about the ways of the Borg. With the slipstream drive they were able to go to the Delta Quadrant, to learn about them in their own space, talking to species there that survived the invasions. "

McCulloch looked at Thompson, his face in a disbelieving expression. "You gotta be f\*ckin' kidding me" He said.

Daryl continued. "That's where my clone met Darva. They got romantically involved. After the ship they served on together was destroyed, the BATF was disbanded soon afterwards. My clone returned to SO and Darva and he broke up because it didn't work out between them….Then he started to behave erratically, killing people, together with Durham, who also appeared to be a clone..in the end, they both betrayed SO. "

McCulloch stared at Thompson.

"I really don't know what to say… it's… intriguing, yet frightening… and you were still on that backwater planet? "

Daryl nodded. "I was. I survived there for 16 years before I got the chance to escape. That was 4 years ago. After my debriefing I mentally collapsed. Took me 3 years to recover, including lots of therapy and genetic neuro linguistic reprogramming and engram reprogramming to handle all my traumas. "

Once more, Daryl looked at the sea. It soothed him. The sea had always been the place to go. He grew up with her. That was his friend. It washed away his problems, his anger, his grief. And he could need that now. "Let's move on. I really need to take a dive now. "

The trio moved one, and after a 10 minute walk, they arrived at the house where Daryl's oldest sister, Demi, lived. It was their parental home. More memories and feelings poured in. But also a feeling of emptiness. He had missed 16 years of everything that had transpired while he struggled to survive and a clone had taken over his life. The bitterness of that would probably never fade away.

"You ok mate? " Beckett asked

Daryl silently exhaled. "Yeah, I'm ok. " He answered.

“It's just...weird...sometimes it's just hard to cope with this shit." He walked to the front

door, with Beckett and McCulloch in his wake and waited. Within moments the door opened, showing a woman in her mid-forties. She stepped forward and greeted Daryl with a big, warm hug.

"It's so good to see you, Daryl. " She whispered while trying to keep her emotions in control. Daryl returned the hug but said nothing. As she broke free from the hug, she wiped away a tear.

“I am so sorry...where are my manners,“ she said. “I see you brought some friends.”

Daryl nodded. Demi, I want you to meet two of my colleagues and meanwhile close companions of mine. He gestured to the Scot. “This is Lt. Commander William McCulloch.” then he looked at Cody. “And that humongous human being is Lieutenant Cody Beckett.” Beckett just grinned sheepishly through his beard. “Cody, William, meet my sister Demi.”

The Scot pushed Daryl and Cody aside and stepped closely towards Demi. McCulloch eyed the woman momentarily before speaking softly to her. Naturally, Will purposely made his Scottish brogue thicker.

“Aye, now who is this young lass?” He inquired as he looked back towards Daryl. The Scot winked at him once before turning back towards Demi and taking both of her hands.

“Lieutenant Commander Thompson told me he had a sister, but he never told me she was as beautiful as a Scottish loch on a cool October morn.’”

Demi blushed and awkwardly curtsied as a wide grin spread across McCulloch’s face. The Scot glanced again towards Thompson and continued to smile.

“Oh crap.” Daryl declared softly.

“She didn’t just do that.” Beckett protested as he looked over towards the lieutenant commander with slight concern. “She literally just curtsied at him.”

All Daryl could do was watch in horror as McCulloch carefully charmed his sister with occasional Gaelic phrases and his Scottish wit. Thompson’s sister giggled slightly as Will announced “Tell me lass, when does one get a tour of your estate. I mean this place is a castle compared to my poor thatched hut on Caldos. Show me around your abode me lass.”

“He owns a multimillion-dollar intelligence company! I’m pretty sure his personal shuttle is larger than this entire residence” Beckett protested. McCulloch eyed the lieutenant and then uttered in Gaelic to him.

“I know you understood what he said!” Thompson demanded as he glared at his companion. “What did he say?”

“I’m not sure I want to tell you.” Beckett replied nervously.

“Beckett…”

“He told me if I want to see Sarah I better keep you occupied.”

“Damn Scot.” Thompson cursed out loud.

McCulloch invited Demi to link her arm with his as she led the three men into her home. Suddenly, the Scot let out a loud whoop as he shouted in his thick brogue.

“Saint John’s Ghost! There are two American roses in this home!”

“Oh...no.” Thompson declared softly.

“What...what?” Beckett asked repeatedly.

“McCulloch has met Sharon.”

“Sharon?”

“My other sister.”

“You have another sister?”

“Yes, and she has a thing for men from the United Kingdom.”

“He’s going to defile both of your sisters.” Beckett observed sadly.

“I’m a step away from inviting his ex-wife to join us so she can throat punch that man-whore again.” Thompson replied as McCulloch masterfully divided his attention between both sisters. Granted, on the one hand Will was engaging in the behavior to get a rise out of Daryl. But on the other both sisters, especially Sharon, were simply stunning.

McCulloch took both sisters by the arm and started to walk towards the patio behind the house ...leaving Beckett and Thompson alone in the entranceway. Before exiting, the trio stopped at a nearby bar. The Scot retrieved 3 cigars and a bottle of whiskey.  Pickering Whiskey. He held up the bottle and looked over towards Beckett.

“Come now Cody, perhaps you should sample fine New England whiskey before I bring you to meet your New England girl.”

All Beckett could do was groan. Will turned his attention back towards the Thompson sisters. “Lieutenant Beckett may be enamored with my former executive assistant. She’s a feisty lass who will likely eat him alive but at the end of the day he may be right for her.”

“Well, why aren't you interested in this New England girl?” Sharon asked as her eyes fluttered.

“You see lassie…”

“He just called her lassie….he’s calling your sisters lass and lassie and they’re lapping this up?” Beckett protested.

“It’s that damn accent.  Damn his pale skin and foul thick accent.” Thompson whined helplessly.

“You see lassie,” McCulloch repeated. “I’ve always had an attraction to the North American ladies of the West Coast.”

“Oh $%^&.” Thompson cursed as his sisters giggled and simultaneously moved closer towards the Scot.

A few hours later….

Daryl wiped the water out of his face, as the next wave rolled in. Daryl approached it, and his board was caught by the current of the water. He felt how he sped up, and balanced to keep in front of the wave, that was slowly toppling over itself, creating a cone of water, where Daryl managed to stay in front off. As he neared the shore, the wave broke off and flattened quickly. Daryl moved towards the, picked up his board and walked towards Will and Cody, who were relaxing in the sun.

“Look at that, he’s not eaten by large sharks,” McCulloch joked.

Daryl grinned and plopped down on the beach. He still had the touch. The last few hours he had been surfing. It felt good. He had met some of the old dudes of his group he hung out with in his youth who were also still living in Malibu Beach. It was great seeing them again. He got an invitation for the three of them and for Darva for a party on Sunday evening. He was looking forward to that.

His stomach grumbled, and as he checked, it was past 8. It was still warm and sunny, no wonder he lost track of the time.

"Come on, you two. Let's go find something to eat!"

Reepchip Charatetet

Muransurak

Stardate 2104.20

Shore leave was not a time when Reepchip could relax.  Elder Reeseevee had arranged for Reepchip to regularly spar with the warriors of his House in the mornings, and practice both the Silent Voice and Hidden Hand with the House Shamans.  There wasn’t much the Elder could do in a month, but he knew he had to get Reepchip more prepared if he was to be a spy and a scout.

One thing Reepchip also had to do was practice with a blowpipe in complete darkness, aiming at a target that made a soft ticking sound, for times when he would have to fire at an opponent that he couldn’t see.  At night he would Dream with the soldiers, who guided him through the training they had done, and through the times they had to defend their house during the wild days of the Great Uprising.  Older soldiers even had Reepchip relive the terrible days of the Jem’Hadar Invasion.  That was hard for the young Muran, who’d been but a kit when the Jem’Hadar had devastated his people.

But Elder Reeseevee knew what he was doing.  If Reepchip was going to be given a Warrior’s role, a Warrior he would become.  One way or another.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lt. Cody Beckett

Earth

Stardate 2104.20

As the trio left the beach in search of dinner, McCulloch fell into line next to Thompson. Daryl eyed the Scot in silence for a moment and then spoke.

“Behave yourself around my sisters. Demi is married. Don't know where that @#\_-# hangs out, but she is married"

“I’m shocked that you would imply I would behave in any way less than honorable with your sisters...especially Sharon. Tell me about her.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.” Thompson replied as Beckett snickered.

“Do you want me to put in a good word with Sarah or not? McCulloch demanded of Beckett before returning his attention back towards Daryl. “You never told me your sisters were very cute.” Thompson sighed and stopped in his tracks.

"I'm not allowing you to ruin Demi's marriage and life. Jeff is a dull #€\_&@, yet she seems to be good with that. So leave her alone, will you… " The Scot's expression changed from nonchalant to devilishly predatory. Daryl glared at him.

“I swear to God McCulloch I will find your ex-wife and personally pay for her to come to Earth to kick your arse...again.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” The Scot replied with a laugh.

“I would.” Thompson retorted.

“When are you going to bring me to meet Sarah?” Beckett interrupted.

There was a moment of silence before the Scot became serious...ignoring Cody’s pleading.

“Daryl, I appreciate you sharing your background with us.”

“It is what it is.” Thompson replied matter-of-factly.

“It appears we both share a troubled past. One of these days I’ll share with you my history after my incarceration.

“Oh?” Thompson asked with a hint of curiosity.

“There was my time with Kane’s Mercenaries and my freelance period that I rarely discuss.”

“Freelance?” Cody asked with a tone of reservation.

“Freelance,” McCulloch replied with a hint of sadness. “I did some bloody awful things for parties outside of the Federation who hired me and paid me well. Sadly I don’t remember much because I mostly inebriated during those times.”

“You must have done some good.” Thompson pressed

Will paused for a moment. “Aye, I suppose there were some noble deeds. I was often contracted by Sorvek or allies of the Federation for operations.”

“How many missions did you complete between the Mercenaries and your freelance work on behalf of Sorvek or his allies?” Daryl pressed.

McCulloch paused momentarily as he mentally counted the missions. He gave up after he reached twenty. “There had to have been almost two dozen missions I performed for Sorvek after my incarceration.”

“Any of those missions you wish to speak of?”

Will paused for a moment as he reflected in silence. Operation Styx stood out in his mind. For that particular mission, McCulloch had been recruited by Sorvek and Bajoran officials to rescue dozens of families kidnapped and forced to participate in a sex trafficking ring managed by a Cardassian criminal enterprise. The Federation rebuffed all requests for assistance which led to the Scot being recruited for the job. By the time the operation was finished, McCulloch had successfully assassinated, tortured or liquidated the entire damn ring.

“None of the operations really stand out. As I said, I was mostly drunk during that time.” The Scot lied.

“No worries,” Thompson replied confidently. “I’ll just pull the files from Starfleet’s intelligence database.”

“You won’t find anything.” McCulloch countered.

“Why?” Beckett asked.

“Starfleet erased my service record after my conviction. There is no history of my service … or sacrifice after I was convicted of betraying the Federation.”

“Holy crap, that is why most of the Resurrection crew despises you,” Beckett noted. “They know nothing of your service record.”

“Nor will they.” The Scot countered.

In the meantime, the trio arrived in front of a nice-looking Italian restaurant.

"I could easily hack into the database and retrieve all data," Daryl said with a

big grin while he sat down at a table on the terrace outside. "Starfleet systems aren't that difficult to hack."

The Scot looked at him. "I call your bluff."

Cody grinned. "I hear a challenge here." He threw in, grinning at Daryl.

"Challenge accepted," Daryl stated. "In fact, already working on it. "

The Scot and the New Zealander looked at Daryl, then at each other, then back to Daryl.

"What the hell do you mean Thompson." The Scot asked.

Daryl grinned even broader…

"I did tell you about my background… but not everything… " He said.

"I always was good at hacking and cyber warfare. But since I got that chip implanted… "

McCulloch and Beckett looked at each other again.

Beckett's eyes grew big as he connected the dots.

"No, you didn't! " Beckett exclaimed.

"Yes, I actually just did! " Thompson said.

McCulloch, still half clueless of what was going on, suddenly also got what Thompson was saying. What followed was a flood of Scottish and Gaelic insults and curses.

Daryl tossed a paddle on the table towards McCulloch. He looked at it and scrolled through the files, nodding. The files Thompson had retrieved outlined the Scot’s service with Kane’s team as well freelance activities specifically Operations “River Hawk”, “Shattered Glass”, “Kilroy” and “Viper”. Will noted the two missions he had desperately wanted to retrieve for years….Operation Griffin and Operation Styx … were not included in the data retrieved by Thompson. Will chose not to press the issue but noted that perhaps his hacking talents could be of further use in the future.

"Impressive, I must admit,” Will announced as he placed the padd on the table. “Now I can get rid of you for stealing classified data and have my way with your sisters "

For a moment it was silent at the table, then the three burst out in laughter.

"Drinks are on me! " McCulloch exclaimed.

Outside the restaurant, a cloaked figure watched the men enter the establishment and once they were inside, he found an empty doorway across the street and began to watch…and wait…for the Starfleet officers to exit.

Back to top

## S3, E3, Act 7: The Trouble with Shore Leave (extended edition)

Holder of the Name Ee’an in all the Tribes of Ra’yral

Holder of the Name Ghronar in all the Tribes of Ra’yral

Pillar of Ra’yral, Yarman Delta, Ra’yral Plains, Kingdom of Olavaron

Stardate 2104.28

Throughout the multi-day meeting, there was one major piece of business to attend to:  Both Ee’an and Ghronar were ready to become adults in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral.  Throughout the day, they’d sparred with their elders--First Elder Name Ryramorl included--to test their physical prowess.

They were regularly tested on their knowledge of the ancient legends.  It was a tense time for them, for both knew that failure would result in them at best being barred from ever being a Chief or.Elder, and at worst, being sent out of the La’an Tribe and into a lesser tribe.

At the end of the meeting came the final test:  To ride a wild Horghenhar.  Cossamarsee’s soldiers had used drugged darts to capture two, and when the bovid monsters woke up, they’d be absolutely enraged.  It took 12 strong Olverns to hold one down long enough for Ee’an to mount it.  Then the huge bull was let loose, and it went wild, determined to throw this thing off its back and trample it into oblivion.  Ee’an had learned to ride other animals as he grew up, but this was the first time on something that absolutely hated him.  The monster spun, bucked, bellowed, and snorted.  When it dropped down to roll to crush Ee’an beneath him, the youngster sprang off its back, reaching the fence just as the gong sounded.  He barely even noticed the fence as he scrambled over it.  Shaking, he looked at the Elders.  The ride was not to prove one’s bravery, but to teach humility:  no matter what a Carnora’s rank, there were some things that he could not command, like a wild Horghenhar determined to kill whoever rode it.  The Elders looked him in yhe eye, then nodded, and one of them took red paint and made a mark over his brow.  Ee’an was now truly a member of the La’an.

Cossamarsee’s soldiers promptly shot more drugged darts at the monstrosity. They then loaded it onto a cart, which they would take far into the plains and set it free.

The one that Ghronar got was even more furious.  Ghronar could barely get on it.  The soldiers let it loose, and Ghronar clung for dear life.  The monster practically burned with hatred and rage.  Ghronar struggled to overcome reflecting that, practically pleading with the Horghenhar to calm down.  A few moments, that was all, and it could go back to the plains and rejoin the herd.  A little while being ridden, and then it would be rid of its passenger.

He didn’t expect the rage to cool--nor for the blazing hatred to subside to a simple desire to be out of here.  Ghronar looked at the fence, where the Elders were waiting, towards escape--and the Horghenhar ambled over to it and stood by the fence.  Its rider was to GET.  OFF.  NOW.

Ghronar quickly dismounted, while Cossamarsee’s soldiers--seeing that this Horghenhar was calm, quickly opened the gates.  The Horghenhar charged out of the gates, which always opened into the plains, and was soon out of sight.

As soon as Ghronar’s feet hit the ground, he was surrounded by the Shamans, for he had just shown he had telepathy.

Ryramorl looked on with tearful pride.  His son--his own son! --was a Shaman of the Ra’yral tribes, and yet he would never be truly Ryramorl’s son again, for Shamans were set apart from the tribes by their very nature.  He went to his two sons and rubbed faces with them proudly.

Olvern OverKing Shor-Ghan Roshaigar in the Arnor Mountains

Chief of the Chieftains First Elder Name of Lyar in the La’an Tribe of Ro’ar

Chief of the Chieftains Holder of the name Myaral in all the Tribes of Ra’yral

Capital City, Carnor

Stardate 2104.22

Myaral was in no hurry to leave the Yarman Delta--a general meeting of the tribal Chiefs in the Capital City would come soon, and he wanted to attend.  Several other Ra’yral Chiefs arranged to come with him.

As the Ra’yral La’an were preparing to take a ship to the Capital City, Cxic Dar Szen came to Rynaya, High Chief Myaral’s wife.

“I have dreamed,” said Czic Dar Szen.  “I saw the Ra’yral Plains stretched out before me--and while I saw the other Ra’yral tribes, I didn’t see the La’an anywhere.  Beware, Chief’s consort, for this bodes ill.”

Rynaya pondered.  “Did you seek elsewhere?” she asked.

“No, I did not.  And dreams and prophecies are rarely what they appear on the surface.  But please--tell your mate to step lightly.”

“I will.

A small fleet of ships set out from the Yarman Delta , including the Ra’yral Chiefs, Chief O’aldamandas Dergon Bend Yarman River, Cxic Dar Szen, and King Cossamarsee and his court.  The ships were commanded, of course, by Chief Ordanrel Yorwel Island Tomma Sea.

The docks of the Capital City were the largest of any on Carnor, as even in the days of the Carnoric Republic, Shor-Ghan knew the Atarans would be a major force and that just about every rock that peeked from the trough of the greatest waves at the lowest tides would have its own Chief and they would DEMAND access to the Capital.  To balance things out, he decreed even the lesser Chiefs and Head Shamans of the Olverns and Usarins and what bewildering myriad of titles the Muran called their leaders would find a seat at the great meetings.

The Council of the Olvern Chiefs was not a meeting that Shor-Ghan relished.  The Yaryan were mating into the Ra’yral despite having been claimed by the Ro’ar, and if Shor-Ghan’s sources were correct, Myaral had officially made the Yaryan a Ra’yral Tribe.

Chief of the Chieftains First Elder Name Lyar in the La’an Tribe of Ro’ar--who had also claimed the Roshaigar Tribe against Custom and their will--was livid; the Yaryan had great mineral resources in their territories, and their inclusion had yanked all that away from the Ro’ar.  Shor-Ghan had no love for Lyar or his son Rolandhro, but to make a move against them would mean Lyar would pull some rules that reeked worse than a Horghenhar’s leavings to force Shor-Ghan from the throne, and use his powerhouse of an OverTribe to enforce them.  If the other Olvern Tribes rose up--well, the chaos that followed the Great Teaching would be the only thing that could compare to the bloodbath that would ensue.  And so Shor-Ghan waited.  He was OverKing only because he was Shor-Ghan, that much he knew.  Lyar wanted Rolandhro to be his heir, and Shor-Ghan had no idea how that would play out--only that it wouldn’t go well.

Especially not with the Klingons likely up to… something.

Almost every Chief was here at the council for once.  Lyar stood at the center of the nearly 100 Chiefs he commanded, by far the most of any High Chief.  Even his runner-up, Myaral, had less than half that; in third place was Chief of the Chieftains Holder of the name Yanraow in the La’an Tribe of Marra with only a dozen Chiefs under him.

What was unusual is that the Independant Chiefs were here in force--those that ruled small mining colonies, or ran the massive Freight Ships that travelled from Carnor to the nearby Jova and Arko systems (both of which were claimed by the Carnora, and neither of which had any planets larger than 5000 km), or ruled some village in the middle of nowhere far from the OverTribes.  A number of them were even Coastals, unmistakable from their thick tails, webbed hands, dense fur, brands, and strange accents.  Even Shor-Ghan was struck at how the Independants outnumbered the Chiefs of the OverTribes.

"(Of course they’d be here,)" he thought.  "(If the Ro’ar ignore the Customs when it came to Dead Clans, what Customs would they ignore next?)"

Myaral sat directly across from Lyar, right where the two could glare at each other.  Right by his side was Holder of the name Arrowar in the Yaryan Tribe in the Merno Hills of Ra’yral, who’d sought out the Ra’yral in direct defiance of Lyar.

First Elder Name Lyar in the La’an Tribe of Ro’ar was about to say plenty--and his opening salvo came with the Sharing of Water.  “The Ro’ar would not even PISS in water that the Ra’yral drink,” he said, dumping it out and signalling his subordinates to do the same.   “Disgracer of the name Myaral in all the Packs of Ra’yral, long have you been a burr in my pelt!” he said.  “You sent your brother to whisper in the ear of Shor-Ghan, the Ra’yral on Kazis IX have snatched one contract after another out of the very hands of my agents, your Shamans have lied in the ears of the Overseer and set his heart against me, and now you have stolen from ME an entire tribe!”

Myaral’s expression never wavered, even as Lyar insulted the Ra’yral by calling them “packs”--which normally referred to bands of Olverns whose minds never Awakened to sentience but remained feral all their lives.  “A tribe claimed by the Ro’ar against the Ancient Customs and against their will.  He who cannot respect the Ancient Customs of the Olvern Tribes is unworthy of leading a Tribe himself.  The Yaryan have rejected your claim over them, and have joined us through the Ancient Custom of mating into a tribe.  It was my right to enfold them fully into a tribe and let the Yaryan name die, how much more my right to bring them whole into the Ra’yral, tribal name and all?”

“It was not your right to let them mate into your tribe at all.  Only a High Chief can allow them to mate--”

Myaral cut Lyar off with a roar.  “THEY HAD NO HIGH CHIEF!  They did not come to you, they did not court your people, they did not consent to be joined!  They were not, nor ever were, a part of Ro’ar, and the Overseer said as much!.“

Lyar growled warningly.  “Do not roar at me again, Myaral, unless you think that the forces of Ra’yral can stand against the Forces of Ro’ar.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Acknowledge the Ancient Customs, Lyar.  Admit that any tribe you absorbed without them coming first to you and Mating into your tribe of their own will are not, and never were, part of Ro’ar.  Bare your throat to the King of Heaven and confess your arrogance and greed and plead for pardon from The Overseer--unless you think the Embodiment Of Ro’ar can stand against the Embodiment of Ra’yral.”

Hundreds of Olvern Chiefs stared at Myaral.  Three Circuits of the Sentinel had passed--maybe more--since a High Chief had claimed that title, one only used when a dispute between OverTribes was settled by a Great Duel between their leaders.  The shuff of Myaral’s cloak as he slipped it off his shoulders and clink of his weapons as he set them aside only deepened the shock; one who entered into a Great Duel wore nothing and wielded nothing except what the Gods had provided upon birth.

Shor-Ghan eyed Lyar and Myaral.  In the case of a Tribal War, Ro’ar held a clear advantage, but in single combat, Myaral had the advantage; he’d grown up in the harsh, tough environs of an Ancient Tribe, while Lyar was far more at home on a spaceship--word was that the Ro’ar La’an had been in the Jova System during the Jem’Hadar Invasion, a system those demons had ignored. “Embodiment of Ro’ar, You have been challenged.  Yield to the Embodiment of Ra’yral or Speak the Sentence.”  The Challenged tribe would be given the decision as to what would happen to the tribe whose Chief lost this battle.

Lyar was surprised that Shor-Ghan would know the correct phrase--and then it all made terrible sense how he would know, and why Shor-Ghan had not stepped in and warned Myaral of the danger--and why Myaral had dared to cross the Ro’ar.  Myaral and Shor-Ghan both wanted to break the Ro’ar’s power, and Shor-Ghan had trusted Myaral to settle things by a Great Duel even as Myaral had trusted Shor-Ghan to allow it.  He looked over at his son Rolandhro, who hadn’t quite been paying attention, but was fiddling with a scroll.

Rolandhro unrolled the scroll, and recited a portion of the ancient poem the Lay of Ny’an, a tribe that, according to legend, had also won a dispute through a Great Duel.  “And in their defeat, let all their tribes be wiped from before the Face of the King!  Let the males lie scattered on the fields, the females on the floors of their dens, their cubs be torn asunder, and none stay our claw!  Let their name fade from memory, and none dream of them again, and let their bones rot and be forgotten!”

Silence fell.  Even Lyar himself knew that while Rolandhro had merely been quoting from an ancient poem, Myaral would be accepting it if he refused to back down--and would be fully in his rights to subject the same on the Ro’ar if he won.

If, on the other hand, Lyar won, the Ro’ar would be expected to go through with it, and that would earn the hatred of every other Olvern tribe.  King Cossamarsee Tanavaronvaron of Olavaron would doubtless view any extirpation force as an invasion and mount a fierce defence, and both the Tomma Sea Atarans, and the Yarman River Atarans would be willing allies--and while the Ancient Customs dictated that the Ra’yral had to bare their throats to their fate, those same Customs also dictated that those who refused to follow them would not be protected by them either, which meant the Ra’yral would be free to defend themselves.

The Chief of the Chieftains looked at his son and his heart sank.  He, his father, and all those in the Ro’ar La’an had long known the Ancient Customs were for the Ancient Tribes, those spear-wielding, Horghenhar-hunting savages that roamed the wastelands of Carnor, still yowling their boonga-boonga chants to the stars they worshipped and the Ro’ar saw up close and personal.  Rolandhro himself had had an opportunity to learn of the Ancient Customs at the Academy he’d attended but had declined.  But now the Ancient Customs were being enforced, and Rolandhro had no idea what he was saying.

The other Ro’ar looked at Shor-Ghan, praying he would reject it as being too harsh.

Shor-Ghan nodded.  “The sentence has been spoken.  Let the Duel begin.”  He sent a servant off to fetch healers.

Ryramorl turned to Myaral.  “The sentence if you win?”  The Ancient Customs would not allow Myaral to be harsher--even if he could--but they would allow him to be more merciful.  It was also wise to instruct a trusted member of the tribe, in case the winner was too injured to pass the sentence on himself.

“The La’an are to be scattered throughout the Ro’ar--one couple to each tribe if possible.  The La’an unawakened cubs--Arrowar, stay Ryramorl’s claws and claim them for your own.  Rolandhro I leave in your hands, Ryramorl.”  He stripped down fully and went into a side room.  Shor-Ghan instructed one Independant Chief to watch the duel.  The last to enter the side room was Lyar himself, steeling himself for a fight to the death.  The summoned healers took a station outside the room.

Shor-Ghan had a feeling that, should Lyar win or lose, he might not remain the High Chief for long--and certainly, Rolandhro would not take his place, by the way the other Ro’ar were glaring at him.  The faint sounds of yowling could be heard from the side room.

Ryramorl prayed to the Gods for Myaral’s success.  How could something so brief last so long?

Eventually, the yowling stopped, and there was the unmistakable cry of victory.  The Chief who’d been assigned to watch the fight came out to call in the healers, who rushed in with litters  to carry the combatants out.  The Chief was unsure of the phrasing that followed a Great Duel, so after a moment, he turned to the Ra’yral.  “...Myaral won.”

“Speak the sentence,” said Shor-Ghan, implacably.

Ryramorl stepped forwards.  “The Ro’ar La’an are no more.  Let them be scattered amongst the other Ro’ar tribes, one mated couple to a tribe if possible, two if need be.  If any Ro’ar Tribe wishes to depart from the Ro’ar, then depart they may, and be free.”  he looked around.  “Who shall stay my claw from the unawakened cubs of the Ro’ar La’an?”

He felt Arrowar’s grip on his wrist.  “I, Chief Holder of the Name Arrowar in the Yaryan Tribe in the Merno Hills of Ra’yral claim the cubs,” the Chief said.  “They will be raised as our own, and are to never know they were born to another tribe.”

Ryramorl then turned to the shaking Rolandhro.  He simply gestured to come, and pointed at the floor.  Rolandhro was shoved off his feet by several La’an and lay there for a few seconds, before dragging himself towards Ryramorl.

“Kneel and bare your throat,” Ryramorl said.  When Rolandhro hesitated, Ryramorl grabbed the top of his head and yanked it back, placing his claws at Rolandhro’s throat.  “I sentence you to live,” said Ryramorl coldly.  “Live on, as one whose rash words put all of Ro’ar utterly at Ra’yral’s mercy.  Live, as one who caused his own La’an to be dispersed amongst the lesser tribes.  Live, as one whose failure to council his father resulted in his father’s death.  Live, as one who has bereft the females of his tribe of their cubs.  Live, Rolandhro Unto Himself, never to bear the name Ro’ar again!”  Ryramorl shoved Rolandhro face-first into the floor and left him there, having effectively banished Rolandhro from the Ro’ar forever.

“The sentence has been passed,”  said Shor-Ghan.  “Let us take a break, and let the Ra’yral visit their Chief of Chieftains.”

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’aveilth

Bajor

Stardate 2104.22

The trip to the falls was long and the hike excruciating, but it had all been worth it to be at the placid waterfall when the sun set on the Bajoran horizon. Not since the kids had been young did Jahkar remember taking such a trip and it had been a great chance to spend time with Kedanya, not to mention giving Tiri something to remember from the first day of their trip.

Jahkar contacted the runabout in orbit when they were ready to go back, not wanting to attempt a nighttime hike off the mountain and back to the house. The computer locked onto the three of them and beamed them from the falls back to the house.

There, they had dinner, relaxed outside by a roaring bonfire and told stories to Tiri about vacations to the house years earlier when Jahkar and the children had spent time living and visiting here. Finally, Jahkar excused himself and went inside to get some sleep, leaving the two young women alone.

It wasn’t long after Jahkar left Tiri and Kedanya at the roaring bonfire that Kedanya decided to start being nosy. She looked over at the Andorian and grinned slightly, “So….”

Tiri laughed, “I figured this was coming. How do humans say…it’s time for the Spanish Inquisition?”

“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Kedanya blurted out, drawing a vexed look from Tiri. “Never mind. One of dad’s Marine buddies was a Monty Python fan.”

“Who?” Tiri asked.

“Like I said, never mind,” the young Klingon/Romulan/Bajoran woman said. “Ask my dad on the trip home. He’ll tell you.”

Kedanya prodded at the fire with an iron poker and her smile faded some, “But yeah, I was sort of wondering what the deal is between you and dad.”

“No deal,” Tiri shook her head. “I didn’t really expect to come on this trip…it was a last-minute thing. I told him I didn’t have any place to go for shore leave, he asked me to join him. Said it was completely platonic and I agreed.”

Kedanya smirked, “See, that’s it, dad hasn’t brought a woman around since Chas’naH. His guy buddies from the Marines, sure. But never a girl. In fact, besides Chas I don’t think there’s been another woman in his life since my mom.”

Tiri sighed and used a stick to make some scratchings in the dirt, as if she were doodling, “He talked about her a little on the trip here. Chas’naH that is. She was with us on our last mission.”

“Let me guess…they seemed pretty tight for a few days when she was around, then she left in a hurry?” Kedanya remarked.

Tiri nodded, “That about sums it up. It was obvious when she was aboard the ship with us that he was totally infatuated with her, and she seemed to be into him. But then she just left. He said she has a knack for doing that.”

“She does…all the time,” Kedanya said, her voice sullen. “See, he and my mom broke up and it was pretty amicable. But it wasn’t long after they divorced that mom died. I think he always felt guilty that he didn’t stay, but they had totally different ideas. They probably should have never married. She wanted to settle down…that’s why she built this house. But he wanted to stay on active duty, with Shadow Ops or the Marine Corps. They parted, agreed to share me and left it up to my half-brother Tajel who he stayed with. Mom took an assignment with Shadow Ops that put her in charge of a space station near Bajor and we could stay with her or come here to the house. My grandma, dad’s mom, she would come and care for Tajel and I when mom sent us here.

“After she died, we went to live with dad,” Kedanya said. “He left Shadow Ops because of it, rejoined the Marine Corps and took a posting on Earth training soldiers.”

Tiri nodded again, “He told me about all that, too.”

“Chas’naH would turn up every six months or a year, spend time with us. Dad would take leave and we’d come here, or stay on Earth,” Kedanya said. “They’d get close, he’d start talking about marriage or moving in together, and then she’d leave again. It always broke his heart, but he never said anything.”

“I got that sense from him, but he didn’t really say much about the relationship on our way here,” said the Andorian. “So, you think it’s odd he brought me along?”

“Frankly, yes. He has avoided other women all these years. Grandma even tried to set him up with some ‘good Klingon women’ but he’d have nothing to do with it,” said Kedanya. “I saw you with him and thought maybe there was something going on.”

Tiri laughed, “No, Kedanya, your dad and I are just friends,” Tiri said, taking a swing of Romulan Ale Jahkar had poured all three of them before he’d turned in for the night. “This trip, I really think he was just taking pity on me.”

“No, he had a reason,” Kedanya said. “I don’t know if it’s attraction, friendship or what, but he has only had eyes for Chas’naH in the last 20 years and she’s treated him like a second thought. He doesn’t just make friends with women.”

“Why not?” Tiri asked. “I mean, this isn’t the Dark Ages, men and women can have platonic relationships.”

“True. But dad has never had casual relationships with women,” said Kedanya. “Not so close that he would bring one to his family home on Bajor he built with his former wife. It’s just weird.”

“Regardless,” Tiri said, swilling some more Romulan Ale. “I’m just his friend and I have no attraction or designs on him.”

Kedanya regarded Tiri a moment but kept staring at her with the same mischievous grin she’d had most of her life. Out of the corner of her eye, Tiri noticed Kedanya staring and glanced over, recognizing the grin which made her suddenly burst out into laughter.

“OK, he’s cute,” Tiri chuckled.

“Oh, he hates being called that,” Kedanya laughed. “You’re such a liar, Tiri. I can tell the way you look at him that you like him.”

Tiri leaned forward on the chair where she sat and looked at Kedanya with a silly grin as the alcohol began to take effect on her, “For crying out loud, Kedanya, he’s old…too old…oh my mother would be so angry with me.”

Kedanya laughed and then drank some more of the ale, “Yeah, he’s old, but what’s age but a number?”

Tiri, just taking a drink, spat out the mouthful and laughed, “Well, he’s twice my age, so tell me how that number calculates, Kedanya.”

Kedanya laughed until she snorted and then she shook her head, “Well, if you really are interested in him, I say go for it. You seem to get along well, that’s most important. But I’ll warn you now, he’s not going to come around easily.”

“Easily?” Tiri asked, pouring another shot of Romulan Ale. “Um…well…assuming I were interested…completely theoretically, what do you think would prevent him from taking an interest in me?”

Kedanya became very serious, leaned toward the Andorian and lowered her voice to a whisper, “He’s dedicated to his job, he’s not completely over Chas’naH and it’s that age think. He’s going to see dating you as ‘robbing the cradle’.”

Tiri pondered that for a moment, then nodded, “I’m familiar with the phrase. It means to date someone much younger than yourself?”

“Correct,” Kedanya said. “He has enough Klingon pride and honor to make him struggle not to give into temptation. Not to mention as a Marine and Shadow Operations command officer, he’ll make excuses about you being his subordinate.”

Then, in the best impersonation of her father she could muster, Kedanya said, “It would be improper for Tiri and I to be a couple. I am far too old for her and I am her superior officer.”

Tiri burst into laughter after Kedanya gave her impression of the Marine and then poured Kedanya another glass of the blue alcoholic beverage. “You sound just like him! But you’re right, I could hear him saying something like that.” The Andorian’s head sunk, and she looked at the doodles she’d made in the dirt beneath her. “Again, Kedanya, I don’t really know what I feel or what I’m thinking. I just know I feel something is there. Maybe it’s just me.”

“All I can say, lieutenant, is I’m not calling you mom if you and he get married,” Kedanya sneered.

The remark drew another burst of laughter from Tiri, who downed the rest of her glass of ale. “I promise I won’t be the wicked stepmother.”

“You better not,” Kedanya said. “Glad I’m not on duty tomorrow, because I have a feeling you and I are going to get really drunk tonight and we’ll be hung over tomorrow.”

They proceeded to finish the rest of the bottle of Romulan Ale and sometime in the early morning hours, just after the sun rose, Jahkar stepped out of the house to find both women sprawled on the ground next to the smoldering fire, an empty bottle laying near them. He looked them over, shook his head and went inside to prepare breakfast….

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lieutenant Cody Beckett

Earth

Stardate 2104.16

To the Scot’s relief the trio paced themselves with their drinks as the night progressed. However, McCulloch started down the slippery slope with the delicious Italian food that was put before him.

Midway through the evening Will was again pressing Beckett to have the courage to contact Sarah Pickering and invite her to dinner the next evening. An hour after that, McCulloch had somehow convinced Demi and Sharon to join the trio. Both women soon arrived dressed as if they planned to spend the night hopping from night club to night club.

Both Will and Cody’s jaws dropped. Daryl, on the other hand, started to object but the pair pushed him aside and sat down on either side of the Scot.

“I swear to God Daryl, he must be releasing some sort of pheromone around women!” Beckett declared.

Daryl stared at McCulloch. He was unsure whether to curse at the Lieutenant Commander or laugh at his antics.

Will gestured to the waiter and instructed him to bring over a flight of sample drinks from the Pickering Whiskey line.

“I love Pickering Whiskey.” Sharon purred as she leaned in towards the Scot.

“Since when?” Daryl interrupted.

“Since shut up.” She retorted, sounding like a teenage girl.

“Well, I chose the brand because our mate Mr. Beckett here is going to woo the distiller’s younger sister tomorrow!”

“I’m going to what?” Beckett asked in confusion.

“Woo.”

“What’s a woo?” The lieutenant asked as Thompson and McCulloch sighed in disappointment. Both of Thompson’s sisters started to giggle.

“Tell us about this girl Cody.” Demi asked as she rested her chin on her hand and eyed Beckett.

“I...ummm…”

Beckett felt overwhelmed with the sudden attention from Daryl's sister. He blushed, and Thompson almost fell out of his chair laughing.

“See lasses,” Will interrupted as whiskey flights arrived and were set on the table. Will began to pass the sample drinks throughout the group. “It’s not the girl our friend Cody should be worried about. It’s her older brother.”

“Oooo….an overprotective brother!” Sharon stated as she shot a look towards Daryl. “Tell us more.”

“Thompson,” McCulloch announced as he masterfully changed the subject, “I am already upset that you never told me about these two lovely lasses you call your sisters. Both are as fair and as pretty as a field of Scottish roses, but now I see they are also excellent company!”

Both of the women again blushed and giggled at McCulloch’s overtures. Beckett downed his whiskey and looked towards Thompson.

“Maybe he’s wearing a secret device that releases a spray that influences the opposite sex.” Beckett mused.

“I’ve got this under control.” Thompson softly announced with a smile.

“You do?”

“First chance I get I’m hacking into Starfleet’s database and moving his ex-wife’s arrival date to our station up to next Thursday.”

“It's a good start.” Beckett announced as they each poured themselves another glass of whiskey.

“Trust me, my sisters will make Sarah Pickering look like an amatuer. By the time Demi and Sharon are finished with him, McCulloch will be broke and passed out in the alleyway behind this restaurant. And going home alone.”

Two hours later, Thompson realized his prediction might not come to fruition. Both sisters were still seated very closely on either side of McCulloch. To complicate matters, Demi and Sharon occasionally shot looks of annoyance at each other as they competed for Will’s attention. On the other hand, McCulloch just smiled away.

“It’s almost as if this is a sport to him.” Beckett replied as Thompson took yet another sip of his drink. He softly belched before nodding in agreement with Cody. Will McCulloch was successfully hitting on his sisters. Thompson shuddered at the thought of how the evening could finish.

Suddenly, he saw someone entering the terrace. A smile spread across Thompson’s face.

As Will divided his attention between Sharon and Demi he observed a rather large, muscular man sit down next to Demi. Admittedly, at first, McCulloch thought it was one of the bouncers assigned to work the front door. The Scot looked over to Daryl who shook his head in the negative and then mouthed “husband” to him.

“You were bloody serious earlier today?” The Scot demanded.

Thompson silently nodded in the affirmative. McCulloch cursed.

“Oh hi honey!” Demi announced as she leaned into Will. “This is Daryl’s friend from Scotland. He’s soooo interesting!”

“No I’m not.” McCulloch protested.

“Yes, yes he is.” Daryl instinctively announced with a slight chuckle.

“This show got a lot more interesting.” Beckett noted out loud to no one in particular.

“This...this is your husband?” Will nervously asked as he internally debated whether he should divert the remainder of his night to Sharon or flee into the evening before the “husband” decided to gut him.

“Yup!” Demi  replied. “This is Jeffrey! He’s a cage fighter.”

“A cage fighter.” McCulloch repeated the answer. “Of course he is.”

“Jeffrey, Will thinks I’m as pretty as a field of Scottish roses! You need to tell me things like that!!” Demi declared loudly.

“Oh…$%^&”  McCulloch cursed softly.

“Yes, $%^&.” Beckett whispered to the Scot as he tried his best not to laugh.

McCulloch cursed  again. Why was it he kept ending up in the crap with women? After a moment of reflection, he extended his hand towards Jeffrey.

“Lieutenant Commander William McCulloch. A pleasure to meet you mate.”

Demi’s husband eyed Will for a moment before reaching out with his own hand.

As the two hands clasped, the Scot did his best not to react or cause a scene - Jeffrey’s handshake was weaker than a corpse.

“Hey.”The husband announced as he let out a loud yawn. He then began to look around the restaurant for a waiter so he could order a beer. For the next several minutes there was awkward silence as Jeffrey sighed loudly with boredom and proceeded to entertain himself with the silverware on the table.

"Jeffrey, my man," Daryl said. "How are things, you old geek. "

Jeffrey looked at Thompson for a few seconds. "Same shit, different day." He then replied.

Daryl looked at the man which his sister had married, and wondered how the hell she could take the burden to stay with him. At the same time, he fully understood Demi that she answered Will's attention, greedily, he might say.

“This is her husband?” Will whispered to no one in particular.

For a brief moment Thompson let out a sigh of relief. Although in his eyes Jeffrey was barely tolerable, the arrival of his brother-in-law successfully derailed the Scot’s overtures towards his sisters.

Or...at least Daryl thought that. After a moment of reflection, Will turned towards Sharon. “Tell me Sharon, is there a nearby club where we can go dancing?”

“No, no, no, no.” Thompson protested repeatedly.

“Yes, let’s go dancing!” Demi exclaimed as she started to stand up from the table. Jeffrey groaned in protest as his wife pulled him by the hand.

Moments later, the six left the restaurant and went in search of a club that would be open this late in the evening. To Thompson’s horror, McCulloch led the pack with Sharon ... linked arm and arm with him.

Thompson grumbled to himself again momentarily before staring off into space. After a moment of reflection he turned towards Beckett and smiled.

“You’re taking this remarkably well.” Cody noted.

“I am.” Thompson conceded. “But I feel better about this evening already.”

“Oh?”

“I just hacked into Starfleet’s logistics department and moved the arrival date of McCulloch’s ex wife to this Tuesday.”

“I thought you were going to wait until next Thursday.” Beckett countered.

“I was ...until the Scot decided to move in on my other sister after Jeffrey arrived.” Daryl replied with a wink.

“Over under on another throat punch?” Beckett asked before gesturing to Thompson not to answer the question.

The club they found was pretty much crowded, and the music boomed, lights flashing. After a few drinks, Daryl was moving his head up and down on the beat of the music. He had decided that it wasn't up to him to be the "overprotective brother". So while he and Beckett downed another beer, Daryl kind of looked amused at the scene unfolding. Demi was kind of irritated that Will left her to her husband, while he was giving Sharon his full attention. Jeffrey stood there like a sack of potatoes, probably wondering what to do in a joint like this. Daryl grinned, turned around and ordered 2 more beer at the very nice-looking girl behind the bar which had served them since they arrived. She smiled and within seconds two cold beers where served.

The girl came closer. "Hey there handsome, care to accompany a lonely girl after her shift?" She purred into his ear. Daryl raised his eyebrows at the proposal. He looked at her and shook his head.

"If I was still a bachelor, I wouldn't hesitate to say yes. But my good friend Cody here can accompany you." He gestured with his thumb towards Cody, who grinned and drank his beer.

The girls looked passed Daryl, rolled her eyes, and looked back at Daryl, her face inches from his. "No thank you but let me know if you change your mind. " She winked, blew him a kiss and returned to work.

Daryl turned around again, sipping his beer, and enjoying the music. It was some early 21st century type of music, and he pretty much liked it.

Meanwhile, McCulloch spent his time focused on Sharon. He found the woman absolutely stunning. She was funny, charming and well, gorgeous. However, it appeared Demi was none too thrilled with the prospects of spending her time with Jeffrey rather than McCulloch and on more than one occasion she shot her sister an icy glare.

Will noted Jeffrey was off in the corner once again entertaining himself with silverware.

What was it with this guy and silverware?

At the end of the day Will knew he could only push his overtures so far with Demi since she was married...but Sharon, she was fair game. Yet, the Scot did not want Demi to feel left out so he made it a point to split his attention between the two women.

As McCulloch led the women to the bar to buy them another round of drinks, he noticed Beckett off to the side. Will gestured for him to join him. As he did, Sharon leaned across the countertop towards the lieutenant.

“You need to tell us about this New England girl you like.”

“Tell us more!” Demi shouted. “Tell us about Sarah!”

Beckett simply turned red. McCulloch smiled slightly before withdrawing a personal padd from his jacket. He tapped a few keys and then returned the device to his pocket. Afterward, he turned his attention towards the lieutenant.

“You’re talking to her tomorrow at 11:00 AM.” Will announced.

“I’m what?” Beckett stammered.

“I have access to her personal calendar and I just set up the meeting between you two. You better show up tomorrow and look good.” The Scot ordered as he turned his attention back towards Thompson’s sisters.

Beckett just stood there. His brain had yet to process what he just heard. A broad grin appeared on his face, as the coin finally fell and he realized he was going to see Sarah tomorrow. He looked in the direction of Daryl, who was already into another conversation with two women, one human and the other Orion. Beckett decided to see if Jeff, Demi's husband was up for some small talk. He ordered 2 more beers and walked over to Demi's husband, who sat at the bar. "Hey mate." Cody opened.

Demi's husband looked aside. "Oh. Hi. " Was the response.

Cody put the glass of beer in front of Jeffrey and sat down beside him. He studied the slump-shouldered figure for a moment. "Why the hell are you sitting here while your wife and sister-in-law are having fun with another man? "

Jeff looked once more at Cody, this time a bit longer. "I don't know. It's been like that always. I'm just a boring dude." Demi's husband stated.

"I am not the kind of cool hero like her brother, or like you, or that dude who is hitting on my wife." He gestured behind him, in the direction where McCulloch was.

Cody kind of felt sorry for him. On the other hand, apparently, he accepted the fact he was bland and boring, even the fact that another guy was flirting with his woman right before his eyes. It made Cody wonder how truthful Demi had been during her marriage with Jeffrey, and all kinds of thoughts played through his mind. He pushed them aside.

“Well, we all have our own qualities,” Cody replied. “I mean, what kind of work do you do? sports? hobbies? There must be something that makes you feel proud, right?”

Jeff looked at Cody for mere seconds, then shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess”.

“Well, make something of it. And while you're at it, maybe give your wife some attention. I bet she can appreciate it.“ With that, Cody got up, emptied his glass, and gently slammed Jeff on the shoulder. “Take care, mate.“

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lieutenant Cody Beckett

Earth

Stardate 2104.19

The dancing, drinks and socializing continued well into the early morning. Eventually, McCulloch had to call it a night as the Thompson sisters had gotten the best of him. Exhausted, the Scot headed to the club’s exit with the intention of finding a room at a nearby hotel. However, Demi wouldn’t hear it and insisted that the Scot, as well as Beckett and Thompson return to her residence.

After some pressure, McCulloch agreed to return to the residence. In response, Sharon suddenly eyed the Scot as if he was helpless prey. Oddly, Jeffrey looked away from McCulloch in defeat.

As the group worked their way back towards the Thompson residence, McCulloch fell into line with Daryl.

“What is the deal with Jeffrey?” He whispered to his fellow operative. “A man that size could rip the spine from my back and beat Beckett with it because I flirted with his wife. But he just threw in the towel and spent his time drooling in the corner. What is up with that guy?”

Daryl smiled a wry smile. "He was always boring. I never understood what Demi saw in him, even in the early days. Of Course I missed 15 years or so. But still. I guess I never really tried to get to know him. And him being so muscular? Heck, I guess he must have taken one of these illegal DNA resequencing offers… But he still is no match for any of us. " Daryl grinned

McCulloch nodded in understanding as the group continued walking to Demi’s residence.

On a distance behind them, the cloaked figure followed the group, making sure he wasn't seen at all. However, twice, Beckett looked behind him, as if to check there was no one. At this moment, the figure made sure he kept still and blended into the background.

Upon arrival, Daryl made his way to the kitchen to get something to eat while Sharon led McCulloch and Beckett to their respective guest rooms. She pushed one bedroom door open and turned to the Scot.

“This is my room. This is where I will be staying.” She then pointed across the hallway. “Will, you can have that room. Right...across...from...me.”

“Where am I sleeping?” Beckett pleaded in exhaustion.

“Oh for God’s sake Sharon, will you stop throwing yourself at our guest.” Demi announced as she rounded the corner and approached the group. “Go to sleep you harlot.”

Demi shoved her sister into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She then turned to McCulloch, handed him a couple of extra blankets, grabbed him by the coat lapel, pulled him in and kissed him.

Will was speechless and somewhat shocked. Beckett started to nervously laugh.

Demi winked at the Scot as she pulled back. She then spun him around and pushed him into the room across from Sharon’s. “Good night William McCulloch. You’ve had enough of the Thompson girls for one evening.” She announced as she shut the door behind him.

The Scot was left standing in his guest quarters holding blankets. After a moment of reflection, he came to a single conclusion...he better lock the door to his room sooner rather than later.

Beckett was still Standing in the hallway, wondering what had just happened.

As Daryl came up the stairs with a plate full of sandwiches, he gazed at Beckett. "Sup, mate?"

Beckett looked sheepishly at Daryl.

Cxic Dar Szen

Holder of the name Rynaya in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral

Capital City, Carnor

Stardate 2104.25

Rynaya stepped away from the Healer’s Quarters.  Her husband had suffered badly, as was to be expected.  But the Ra’yral were safe from the Ro’ar.  At least for now.  But Cxic Dar Szen had also been correct; Myaral had suffered injuries that would bar him from the plains--perhaps for the rest of his life.

Outside, she saw the Chief of the Dar Szen Muran, and bared her throat in respect.

“He will never fully recover,” predicted Cxic Dar Szen.

“He will not.  There is nothing left of Myaral’s eyes.”

Cxic Dar Szen gestured for Rynaya to bend down, and the female Olvern kneeled.  The Muran gave the Olvern a comforting nuzzle.  “Remember how Myaral often said he would accept a crippled Shor-Talo as an Overking?”

“Indeed.”

“Perhaps I did not see the La’an on the plains, because they accepted a blind Myaral as High Chief and remained with him where he settled.”  Cxic Dar Szen nuzzled Rynaya again, then stepped inside to see her old ally.

First Elder Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral

Shor-Ghan Roshaigaro in the Arnor Mountains

“Why did you accept the Sentence that Rolandhro spoke?” Ryramorl demanded.  He had long trusted Shor-Ghan, but Shor-Ghan’s apparent willingness to permit the slaughter of all the Ra’yral made his guts churn.

“A number of reasons,” said Shor-Ghan.  “First and foremost, Rolandhro doesn’t realize it, but what happened in that room is the only way he could have kept his hide by sundown.  Had Lyar won, he’d either have to go through with the sentence described in the Lay of Ny’an, or repudiate his own son.  If he chose the former, the La’an could--and possibly would--repudiate him as Chief.  Did you not see the look on the faces of the other Ro’ar?”

“No.  I was too busy wondering what in the deepest fire pits of Agavan was wrong with Rolandhro.”

“Ryramorl, they were disgusted.  How often has Myaral made an decision, only for some of the Chiefs to tell him to piss on his tail?”

“First Elder Ray’oro Yeeran tells him that all the time.”

“Do you know what happens if enough Chiefs say that?” asked Shor-Ghan.  “It means that the La’an Tribe can be repudiated.  And I would have made that abundantly clear--it’s my right as a Ro’ar..  Even if the La’an were chomping at the bit for a war, the rest of Ro’ar were not.  Especially the Tribes they’ve recently absorbed.  The Overtribe would likely have just disintegrated.  The second is because of King Cossamarsee, Chief Cxic Dar Szen, Chief O’aldamandos of the River, and Chief Ordanrel of the Sea.  They would raise the Fires of Agavan Himself over the invasion, especially of the Yarman Delta.  Because the Muran and Atarans would get involved, now it’s a matter for the Pentarchy as a whole, who can tell the Ro’ar to put those claws away.”  He took a deep breath.  “The third is because I was certain Myaral would win.  Far be it from me to call the Ra’yral La’an a pack, but Myaral’s upbringing has given him a ferocity I’m not sure Lyar ever had.  Lyar did.  Not.  Want.  That.  Duel.  And his fear, perhaps, was his undoing.  I could only hope Myaral would be more merciful than Rolandhro--and I was correct.”

“...I hear tell Myaral is blind now.”

“Alas.  I just hope his chiefs remember that Myaral was willing to accept crippled Shor-Talo as an OverKing.”

“The Yeeran accept Ray’oro as chief, and he’s probably the oldest Olvern alive.”

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Muransurak, Carnor

Stardate 2104.25

Reepchip came into the house after sparring with one of the soldiers.  Over the past few days, he’d been subjected to many dreams he would have considered nightmares, but the soldiers considered normal.  When he wasn’t training with them, he was with the Shamans, training in both the Hidden Hand and the Silent Voice.

As he gathered with the soldiers for something to eat, Elder Reeseevee entered the room, having gotten word from the Capital.  “The Ro’ar have suffered a tremendous loss,” he said.  “First Elder Name Lyar in their La’an Tribe was all ready to go to war against the Ra’yral, but the Chief of Chieftains Myaral decided that instead of a war, they’d have a Great Duel instead.  Lyar’s bones will be parted soon, and Myaral’s getting the best care that the Capital City has to offer, even the advanced care that we got from the Federation.  I pray that he lives.”

The soldiers grunted, and then talked amongst themselves.  “Are they allowing visitors?” asked one.  “Reepchip should see what a guy torn apart looks like.”

“Only close friends and allies,” said Reeseevee.  “You likely would not be allowed in.”

Rygaran D’Hronarin In the Danro Mountains.

Capital City, Carnor

Stardate 2104.25

When the Communications Apparatus was running, and the conversions to Federation Networks was done, Rygaran D’Hronarin faced the screen.  “Admiral Ian MacLeod, greetings.  I hope this message finds you in bountiful territory, in a strong den, near abundant water, and in good health.

“Since your friendship with Myaral is well known, I think you should know that he’s recently been in a Great Duel--that is, a fight to the death.  He came out the winner, but he’s badly injured, and there was nothing the healers could do to save his sight.  He’ll be blind for the rest of his life.”

“Should you wish to see him, he is in the Great Healers’ Den in Capital City, Carnor.

“Farewell, and may the Messengers watch over you.”

Capital City, Carnor

Stardate 2104.25

The Ra’yral Chiefs gathered to discuss what to do with the High Chief’s office.  With them was King Cossamarsee, who had a vested interest in what the Ra’yrals did within his kingdom.

“So, here’s the situation,” said Holder of the Name Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral.  “My father is blind and his legs might never heal properly, which means he’s been weakened permanently.  He may never be able to return to the plains, for a nomadic lifestyle is beyond his strength now.”

Chief First Elder Name Ray’oro twitched his tail dismissively.  “Neither is my tribe nomadic, for we live by the oasis and seldom leave.  Neither are the Yarman Delta Tribe, for they never leave the delta except at need.  The Ranogh Tribe is named for the city for obvious reasons.  Nor, if I’m correct, are the Yaryan tribe migratory.”

“We are not,” said Chief Arrowar.

“Therefore, I say that not being nomadic is not an issue.”  It was a bit of a surprise hearing Chief Ray’oro be anything but cantankerous, but the fate of the Ra’yral was at stake, and the old Chief knew it.

Several chiefs voiced their agreement immediately, and the rest followed.

“Where shall he rule from?” asked First Elder Ryramorl La’an.

King Cossamarsee spoke up.  “He is welcome to make his home in my city and rule from there, or perhaps the City of Ranogh would be more to his liking.  I would even help him build his own village, if that would be to his liking.  Or perhaps...”  He looked at Chief Ray’oro, but the old Chief shook his head.

“No.  That would cause us to clash.  He cannot rule from Ranogh for the same reason; there is already a Ra’yral tribe there.”

“What do you get out of helping us?” asked Chief Ray’oro.

“I have a powerful OverTribe of Olverns inhabiting my Kingdom, and the absolute last thing I need is the Tribes clashing over who gets to be the next High Chief.  If I can offer anything to make this issue easier to solve, all the better it will be for my Kingdom.”

The fact that King Cossamarsee was getting something out of it--namely, peace and quiet--made it easier to trust him.

“Then there’s the fact that he’s blind and crippled,” said another of the Chiefs.

“I don’t think he’s actually unable to walk--his legs weren’t that ruined, but he may need a litter for long distances,” responded Holder Ryramorl La’an.  “But the blindness…”

“I can offer him the teaching of the Guards In Darkness,” said King Cossamarsee, “Though I will ask for payment for that.”  There was a congenital disorder in the Varon Clan where some members were born with no eyes.  But these eyeless Murans had learned other ways of sensing their surroundings, such as listening for sounds, feeling air currents with their whiskers, and smelling nearby scents.  They’d honed this awareness to the point that the Varons employed them as night guards, for darkness had no meaning to them.

“Also, remember Myaral often said he’d accept Shor-Talo as OverKing,” said First Elder Name Ryramorl La’an.

“He’d accept Shor-Talo as OverKing over Rolandhro,” specified Chief Holder O’ardenraow Yarman Delta.

“No, my brother treated Shor-Talo as a legitimate heir,” put in First Elder Ryramorl La’an.

There was a moment of silence, then Chief Ray’oro stood up, holding the High Chieftain’s cloak.  “We do not need Myaral as a hunter nor as a warrior.  We need him as a leader.”

“You’re being unusually supportive of my brother,” said First Elder Ryramorl.

“He is gravely wounded.  I am gravely old.  The toll on one’s strength is much the same.”

“What is the prognosis, doctor?” asked Ryramorl, as the Ra’yral chiefs also gathered into the room where Myaral lay.

“He’ll live, but \we had to remove what was left of his eyes,” said the healer.  “There was nothing we could do to save his sight.”  Indeed, Myaral was hooked up to many medical machines keeping the High Chief alive.  “And his leg and arm muscles are badly gouged, and I’m not sure if those will ever heal properly.”

“Holder of the Name Myaral, can you hear us?” asked Ray’oro.

Myaral’s brow twitched, and he mumbled, “Yes, I hear you Ray’oro.”

“We the Chiefs of Ra’yral have decided on who shall hold the office of Chief of the Chieftains of Ra’yral.”

Myaral felt something slide over his blankets--by the smell, it was his Chieftain’s Cloak.  Then he felt many hands touching or adjusting it.  “You would accept a crippled OverKing if he was honourable--and so shall we accept a blind Chief of Chieftains.”

“We shall leave you, for to stay would only anger the healer--but we shall pray for your recovery, Chief of the Chieftains of Ra’yral.”

Myaral took a deep breath and smiled.  That cloak had never felt so warm…

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Earth

Stardate 2104.21

The Scot heard Beckett stammering as he spoke with Daryl but chose not to emerge from his guest room. Will knew it was more than certain that come morning Thompson was going to start asking questions about what happened with Demi, but at the moment he was too tired and simply wanted to sleep.

After a brief exchange between Beckett and Thompson, he heard the pair separate and presumably go to their respective rooms. The Scot sighed and tossed about in his bed for a few moments as he silently debated which sister he found more attractive. Yet oddly, he found himself occasionally thinking back to Victoria.

Will yawned loudly, chastised himself for even thinking of his ex-wife and finally started to nod off. As he drifted to sleep, he heard light footsteps outside his door followed by someone trying to turn the knob to his locked door. The Scot smiled in satisfaction knowing his mischievous behavior was finished for now.

McCulloch was unsure how much time had passed but something...someone had woken him up.

Will slowly sat up in his bed and listened carefully. He was met with nothing but silence and the occasional creek of the house. He laughed slightly and brushed off his paranoia.

However, as the Scot started to go back to sleep he heard the sound of heavy footsteps gliding down the hallway outside of his room.

For a brief moment McCulloch convinced himself it was likely Beckett foraging for a late night snack.

Or was it? Something just did not seem right.

Will quietly hopped out of his bed, stood in the middle of the guest room and listened intently, trying to determine what the source of the noise was.

Lt. Cody Beckett

Thompson residence

Stardate 2104.22

Beckett stood for the open window, looking over the now dark sea. A light cool breeze eased the thick blanket of warmth. He couldn't catch his sleep, as he was kind of nervous to meet Sarah Pickering again tomorrow. She hadn't cancelled the appointment, so he was torn between hope and fear. Hope that it might be the beginning of something nice, fear that she would laugh at him right in his face just for the fun of it. Or that she was just being polite and that it was a chance for her to come clean about her behavior on Vulcan. For all these and more reasons, he felt a knot in his stomach. He tried to concentrate on something else. Then he heard the squeaking and creaking of the old wooden floor in the hallway. Curious, he walked towards the door and listened. It was probably one of Daryl's sisters, being adventurous and trying to get into McCulloch's room. Then McCulloch's voice came in over subvoc.

"Cody, you awake? "

"Yeah. What's. Up? "

"I think there is an intruder in the house. He is in the hallway".

"You sure? "

"No. Let's have a look anyway".

"OK… opening the door in 5...4...3...2...1…"

Cody burst open the door and ran onto the hallway. He saw a glimpse of someone running down the stairs and ran off in pursuit. As he came downstairs, the backdoor was open, and the dark clad figure ran just off the perimeter.

Cody sighed and closed the door as Daryl came downstairs. "What was that all about? " Daryl asked Cody.

"There was an intruder," Cody stated.

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Earth

Stardate 2104.23

"There was an intruder," Cody stated.

“Aye, I saw him as well.” The Scot announced. “Something woke me out of my sleep and at first I thought it was one of your sisters trying to get into my room but the footsteps were too loud.”

“Wait,” Daryl interrupted with a tone of concern. “What about my sisters?”

“Demi kissed McCulloch!” Beckett blurted out nervously.

“You what?” Thompson replied as he looked at McCulloch with a cold stare.

The Scot blushed and nodded in the affirmative. “I’m sorry Daryl but the truth of the matter is she kissed me.,.after your sister Sharon invited me to spend the night with her.”

“You’re really not helping yourself.” Daryl replied with a sigh before muttering to himself.

“Thought on the intruder?” Beckett asked as he tried to redirect the conversation.

“Could have been a local burglar.” Thompson speculated.

“I’m unsure mate. The way those footsteps moved down the hallway suggests it was someone trained to move quickly and quietly.”

“Like an operative?” Thompson quipped before McCulloch shrugged her shoulder.

Moments later there was a soft pitter patter of bare feet coming down the hallway. The trio turned around to see Sharon scantily clad and leaning against the door jam. She eyed McCulloch like a piece of meat.

“Is everything OK Will?” She purred before realizing that Becket and Thompson were also present and standing in a nearby shadow. She let out a shriek and quickly tried to conceal her exposed skin. “Oh my God Daryl, what are you doing there creeping in the shadows? And shame on you Cody Beckett!”

Yet oddly, Sharon remained in the hallway.

Will simply cocked his head to the left and studied Sharon longingly. All Thompson could do was shake his head in disappointment before announcing over the subvoc. “What about the intruder?”

“Whoever it is was probably scared away by our pursuit. They won’t return tonight but we need to be more vigilant.” Will replied.

“Do either of you have any weapons?” Beckett inquired.

“Unfortunately I left mine back at Umbra Prime.” McCulloch answered. “Sarah or her brother should be able to help us access some short arms in the morning.”

“Agreed.” Thompson announced.

“We’re still seeing Sarah?” Beckett demanded.

“Aye.” Will announced with a grin. “I expect you to be ready first thing in the morning.”

“I will.” Cody eagerly replied.

There was a brief moment of silence before Demi emerged from her bedroom clad only one of her husband’s t-shirts and nothing else. Cody let out a low whistle as Demi brushed past Thompson and him and went directly over to McCulloch. She instantly linked arms with him and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Oh,” She cooed “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Not a word about the intruder McCulloch.” Thompson ordered over the subvoc.

The Scot nodded before answering Demi. “Aye lass. I had a terrible dream. Woke me from a sound sleep I tell you.”

Sharon quickly looped her arm through McCulloch’s free arm as the trio started to walk down the hallway towards McCulloch’s room. Thompson shuddered. Cody looked at his companion with sympathy. “I’m sorry Daryl, it appears the girls are enamored with William McCulloch.”

Thompson started to dry heave, rested his hand on Cody’s shoulder and then regained his composure. He looked over at Beckett. “It’s not that. I just realized that McCulloch hasn’t been wearing pants this entire time.”

Cody looked back towards McCulloch’s direction and grimaced in disgust. “Dear God.”

“I don’t think I will ever get that vision out of my head.” Thompson announced as he fought back the urge to vomit. “Now, I have to go and disrupt Will’s romantic overtures before he defiles my sisters.”

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lieutenant Cody Beckett

Sergeant Major Robert Pickering (Ret.)

Lieutenant Amanda “Ducky” Düklinqik-Pickering (Ret.)

Ipswich, Massachusetts, Earth

Stardate 2104.23

“A couple of rules to go over before we go to the public transporter and beam to New England.” Will announced as he wiped dust off of Beckett’s jacket and helped straighten his shirt.

“Ok, go on.” Beckett replied nervously. McCulloch eyed his companion for a moment and noted the lieutenant was green and appeared as if he was going to vomit.”

“First, relax.” Will announced with a smile. “Head, up, shoulders back and appear confident.”

Beckett nodded in silence.

“Second,” The Scot continued. “Do NOT mention Elizabeth Pickering until Sarah brings her up.”

“Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth was Sarah’s older sister. She was a cadet at Starfleet Academy and killed during the Breen attack on Earth. It is a very sensitive matter for the family. ”

Again Beckett nodded in understanding.

“Sarah’s older brother is Sergeant Major Robert Pickering. He’s retired from Marine Ops Force Alpha. He served with and is greatly respected by Jahkar. Talk about Jahkar as much as you can with him. Remember, don’t piss the marine off.”

“Right, don’t piss the marine off.” The Lieutenant repeated.

Will stepped back and studied Cody for a moment before instructing him to change jackets.

The Scot continued. “Robert served in a variety of roles, including scout, dropship gunner and combat medic. He spent half of his tours behind Dominion lines and eventually lost a leg in combat.”

“Holy &^%$” Cody replied with a loud gulp.

“You’ll be fine.” Will replied. “At the end of the day he’s a good guy who is simply devoted to his family. He abides by rules and really doesn’t like conflict.”

“How often do you spend time with him?” Cody asked.

“I only met him twice. The first was while I was on a mission with Kane’s Mercenaries. I hit on his girlfriend at the time….which reminds me we have to talk about that also. The second encounter was just before I hired Sarah to work for me.”

“You hit on his girlfriend?” Beckett demanded with a tone of disgust. “I swear you would hump a rock if you could get away with it.”

McCulloch grunted in agreement before instructing Cody to change his belt and shoes. The Scot then continued speaking.

“Jamie Marcus is a delicate subject around the Pickering family.” Will announced. “I’d avoid mentioning her if you can.”

“Is that the girlfriend you hit on?” Cody answered.

“Aye. Robert dated her for some time while the pair served together in Marine Ops Force. However, Jamie broke up with him when she chose a promotion over Robert. Sarah resents Jamie for the slight and would probably stab the woman in the heart if she had the chance. However, Ducky saw an opportunity and moved in on Robert.”

“Ducky?”

“Lieutenant Amada Düklinqik also of Marine Ops Force Alpha and Robert’s wife. As soon as Jamie broke Robert’s heart, Amanda moved in for the kill. There was a three year courtship followed by marriage.”

“Anything else I should know about Robert and Ducky?”

“The couple currently own and operate a highly successful whiskey and rum distillery.” Will announced. “They have five children that range in age between 5 and 14 and a cat that has a love hate relationship with Robert. If I were you, I’d focus on impressing Ducky. You do that, Robert will fall in line.”

“What does Sarah think of Ducky?

“Sarah considers Ducky to be a bit “flighty”. You’re ging to see Ducky is very extroverted, outgoing almost to a fault, and she usually greets strangers with enthusiastic hugs and smiles. But Sarah also recognizes that Ducky unconditionally adores her brother Robert and is devoted to the Pickering family. Sarah sees Ducky as her sister and shares an exceptionally close relationship with her.”

“I impress Amanda, I impress Sarah.” Beckett observed.

“You are a fast learner grasshopper.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” McCulloch replied as he gestured for Beckett to come his hair again. “Those five children? Sarah dodes over them and routinely travels to Earth to be with them. We better bring some gifts or treats for them so you score points with her.”

Will stepped back and studied Beckett momentarily. After looking the lieutenant over several times, he nodded in approval. “Are you ready to meet Sarah?”

“Aye.”

Moments later, Cody and Will entered the Thompson kitchen. Jeff was sulking in a corner, while Sharon and Demi were near a stove whispering to each other. The pair looked back at the Scot, leaned into each other and quietly snickered.

After Daryl, Beckett and McCulloch had chased the unknown intruder out of the Thompson residence, McCulloch had hoped to make a move on one or both of the sisters. Yet, moments after his advance, Daryl shut the entire endeavor down and sent the Scot defeated back to his room.

This particular morning, Will noticed that Sharon was wearing a bonnet and a kilt while Demi was decked out in a low cut blouse and a skirt. Both blinked doe like at the Scot as he entered the room. Nearby, Daryl simply sucked on his morning coffee and pretended to ignore his sisters’ overtures. Occasionally he mumbled his disapproval to the Scot on his subvoc.

The two sisters squealed with excitement as Cody entered the kitchen dressed for his date. The pair raced over to Beckett, spun him around, and clapped their hands in approval.

“He looks sooooo handsome.” Sharon exclaimed while Demi squeaked and hopped up and down like a bunny.

About a half hour later, the sisters ushered the trio off to the public transporter hub but not before blowing Will a series of unsolicited kisses. McCulloch feigned embarrassment and winked at each of them.

Thirty minutes later, Beckett, Thompson and McCulloch materialized in the Great Neck region of Ipswich, Massachusetts. To their east Ipswich Bay shimmered in the sunlight while a looming hill overlooking the Atalntic stood to their north. At the crest of the hill was the Pickering estate. Apple and peach orchards dominated the open fields to their south and west.

Thompson let out a low whistle and then asked “Will...how wealthy is Sarah and her family?”

“Exceptionally.” He replied as he noticed three figures walking from the crest of the hill down to their location. Instantly he recognized Sarah’s brother Robert and sister-in-law Ducky. McCulloch did a double take before realizing the third was Sarah. She was wearing a modest sun dress that hugged the shape of her figure but revealed little else. Beckett simply stopped in his tracks and stared with adoration at Sarah. McCulloch instantly cursed.

“What? What’s wrong?”” Thompson demanded before Beckett could pick up on McCulloch’s concern.

“She’s dressed differently. The Sarah Pickering I know would never wear a sundress on a date.”

“And?” Thompson pressed.

“She has feelings for our boy Beckett.” McCulloch countered. “Sarah is trying to make a better impression with our boy than the one she made on Vulcan.”

“He’s screwed?” Thompson asked with a smirk.

“She’s going to eat him alive.” McCulloch announced as Sarah, Robert and Ducky approached the trio.

As the two groups closed on each other, Ducky stepped forward and warmly hugged Beckett, Thompson and McCulloch. She then turned her attention back towards Beckett, looked over at Sarah and asked “Is this the one who you made out with during a funeral? Wow, yippy skippy for you!”

“Holy crap she’s soft as a grape.” Thompson whispered to the Scot on the subvoc.

“I prefer dumb as rock but who are we to judge?”

“William McCulloch.” Ducky announced as she rested her hands on her hips and studied the Scot. “How is my sister’s boss today? I bet you’re doing awesome, right?”

“You have to be &\*%^ing me.” Thompson quipped again over the subvoc.

“We’re doing this for Beckett.” McCulloch countered through his teeth and then smiled at Duckey. She stepped forward and hugged him again.

After a few minutes of small chat, Robert Pickering cleared his throat and started to eye the trio. He was slightly over 6’1” in height and well built with piercing blue eyes, brown hair and scraggly facial hair. His attention darted between Thompson and McCulloch for several seconds before speaking.

“First, McCulloch is going to tell me why he dragged my sister into a Klingon hot zone before deciding to abandon his business to the Shadow Operations program and then you...what’s your name?”

“Lieutenant Commander Thompson.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Thompson is going to tell me what happened at Admiral Sorvek’s funeral between my sister and the guy over there who is looking at her like a lost little puppy.”

“Oh, Robert stop!” Ducky intervened. “Our marine life is behind us and whatever Sarah does on her own time...well, that’s on her! Let’s bring these fine gentlemen up the hill to our home to meet the children and Fuzzy Meow III.”

“What the $%^& is a ‘Fuzzy Meow III?’” Thompson demanded of McCulloch.

“From what I understand it’s their inbred cat.””

“You’re #$%&ing me right?” Daryl retorted.

“I wish I was.”

“These two were marines?”

“They were involved in some of the most dangerous missions of our time.” The Scot noted

“Seriously? You sure they weren’t AWOL doing drugs and screwing around?”

“Nope. From the declassified reports I’ve read Jahkar considered these two amongst the finest warriors he ever worked with”

“%^&$ me. Jahkar must have been drunk or high when he said that” Daryl declared as he and McCulloch fell in with Robert and Ducky Pickering as they walked back towards the Pickering estate.

Up ahead, Beckett was walking with Sarah and listening intently to what she was saying to him.

When the group reached the crest of the hill, Sarah led Cody further into the property to tour one of Robert’s rum distilleries while Ducky went to check on her children. Robert led Thompson and McCulloch into the house. The trio travelled down a long hallway to an office that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.

Daryl let out a low whistle as he studied the view. McCulloch nodded in approval.

“You started this business after retiring from Marine Ops Force Alpha?” Thompson asked as he stood at a bay window and watched the waves crash against the New England shore.

“I did.” Robert replied as he retrieved a bottle of New England rum from a nearby cabinet and began to pour its contents into three glasses. “The missions were simply getting more and more dangerous after the Dominion War and when Colonel Williams recommended that I apply for a post with Bravo Squad, I knew it was time to get out. I already lost a leg, I wasn’t prepared to lose my life.”

“Smart man.” Thompson replied as he turned away from the window and accepted a glass of rum from the former marine. “No regrets?”

“Do I miss the marines? Of course, I do. Do I have regrets of retiring first chance I could? Absolutely not. I have an amazing wife, five beautiful children and my business. I’m happy where I am.”

McCulloch pondered upon the New Englander’s words. For a brief moment, he resented Pickering and his success. Robert represented everything Will could have been if he simply played by the rules. He took a large gulp of the rum that had been handed to him and looked around the office with jealous disappointment.

“How has Sarah been these past few weeks?” McCulloch asked quietly.

“She is mortified at her behavior at Sorvek’s funeral. As was I.”

“So you heard about what happened.” Thompson asked.

“I did. You can imagine just how embarrassing it was to receive not one but four communications from former marines and crew members of the Ticonderoga telling me about my sister’s behavior.”

“I see.” The Scot replied, unsure how to answer.

“I was furious over the events of the past few weeks. The entire ordeal doesn’t represent who Sarah Pickering is...or who you’ve become McCulloch. I was disappointed with both of you.”

Will remained silent as he reflected upon PIckering’s words.

“I wasn’t happy Will. You dragged my sister into a Klingon hot zone! You and I have combat training and experience. Sarah has none. She was lucky she emerged from the entire incident with a hangover from the Klingon blood wine she consumed.”

“Robert, I apologize for what happened …” Will started to explain before the marine held up his hand.

“There is no need to apologize. Sarah as well as Shess explained why you did what you did. I don’t like what transpired but I now have a clearer picture and I consider it water under the bridge.”

“Thank you.” The Scot answered.

“But let me be clear William McCulloch,” Robert continued, his voice becoming cold and direct, “If you ever put my sister in harm’s way again, I’ll gut you and mount your head over my living room mantle. Am I clear?”

Thompson stepped towards Robert, but Will signaled his companion to stand down. “Crystal clear Robert.”

“Good.” The New Englander smiled before taking a sip of his rum. He casually looked around the room before returning his gaze back towards the pair. “Now we have Sarah’s behavior at the funeral to discuss.”

“I had nothing to do with that conduct.” Will protested.

“Did you have direct control over Sarah’s behavior at the funeral? No. Of course not Will. But do I think you influenced how she behaved? Absolutely.”

Will chuckled slightly for a moment before eying the New Englander. “And how do you figure that Robert?”

“From one business owner to another? Your sudden abandonment of Inverness was completely unexpected and unnerving to half of your staff, including Sarah. She panicked and thought if she could convince you to stay with your business, company operations would not be disrupted. Clearly she underestimated the stability of Inverness or your continued desire towards redemption.”

Thompson eyed the marine in silence before speaking. “You mean to tell me that Sarah made overtures to Will, including that #$%^ show at the funeral in an effort to get him to stay at Inverness? McCulloch are you buying this?”

Unfortunately, Will was. The Scot knew that Sarah had the talents and capabilities to be manipulative and deceitful if it met her objectives or the goals of Inverness.

“She was always blindly loyal to Inverness.” The Scot noted dryly. “Almost to a fault.”

“Almost to a fault.” Robert repeated before continuing. “But she overplayed her hand at the funeral and embarrassed herself, your business and my family name.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover.” Thompson quipped.

“Oh I will.” Robert retorted. “My business doesn’t depend upon what takes place in the shadows of Starfleet. But Inverness does.”

There was another moment of awkward silence as Robert poured each of the men another glass of rum.

“Are you going to fire my sister Will?” Pickering asked softly. “You were kind enough to hire her as a favor to me and Kathleen Fraser  and I will not forget it. But if you are going to terminate her, at least do it away from this home.”

“What? God no.” Will replied with shock. “She’s too valuable to the organization. I know Inverness’ legal department tore into her and Shess suspended her for over a month but the matter is concluded.”

Robert sighed and seemed to relax slightly.

“We’re here because that big red-haired bear has a thing for your sister.” McCulloch continued. “No other reason.”

“She apparently has told Ducky she feels the same way.” Robert noted. “What is this fellow’s name again?”

“Beckett.” Thompson interjected.

“Yes, Lieutenant Beckett.” The New Englander answered. “My sister said he’s different from the others she has been romantically involved with or interested in.”

“That’s our goofball.” Thompson noted.

“But more importantly,” Pickering continued, “he never passed judgement on her after the debacle at Sorvek’s funeral. He could have disavowed or damned her but he didn’t”

“He’s more like a friendly koala bear if you must know.” Daryl noted with a smile. “He tries to be nice to everyone.”

“And she can be a cold calculating viper.” Robert retorted.

“She’ll eat him alive.” Will replied as he raised his glass.

The tension between the three men seemed to ease as the drinking and conversation continued. Robert shared with the pair tales of New England and his distillery while McCulloch and Thompson shared some of their own personal stories.

Unfortunately, the three were so engrossed in the conversation that Robert never saw or heard the proximity alarm activate when something or someone triggered a sensor along the outer property line of his estate.

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Bajor

Stardate 2104.25

Several days passed on Bajor and Jahkar, Tiri and Kedanya spent time together, taking in the sights of the planet and getting to know one another better. Jahkar and Kedanya, though they hadn’t spent a lot of time together in several years, immediately fell back into the father/daughter routine – teasing each other, telling stories about each other to Tiri and conversations about the younger woman’s plans for the future.

Tiri just used the time to get to know both of them better, getting better acquainted with the man who was one of her commanding officers and his daughter, who she had quickly struck up a friendship with. She also carved out time for herself, visiting places on Bajor that had always fascinated her – the B’hala Ruins which were under archaeological excavation; the state museum at Ilvia; and the Bajoran capital itself.

On the fifth day of their trip, the three were gathered back at the house preparing dinner when the proximity sensor went off, a green light that lit up with a soft chime, signaling transporter activity outside. Jahkar looked up from the hasperat he was making from one of Ilia’s recipes and his attention was directed at the door. He was keenly aware of the phaser he kept secured under the counter where he was working – just in case.

The door chime sounded and Kedanya put down the utensils she was using to prepare some side dishes to go with the hasperat and moved toward the door.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Jahkar asked her.

“No,” Kedanya said. “You?”

Jahkar shook his head as Tiri, who was busy preparing an Andorian dessert, looked up and gave a look of dismay, “Don’t look at me.”

Kedanya opened the door and immediately gave a squeal of joy as the door slid aside, revealing the familiar face waiting there for her. “Grandma!” Kedanya exclaimed.

Jahkar’s mother, K’nara, appeared in the doorway carrying a bag and a couple of boxes in her arms. Jahkar came around from behind the kitchen counter and headed toward the doorway, while Tiri looked on, uncertain of what was happening.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” he asked as he moved to embrace her. After they hugged, he helped her with her things and brought it inside.

“I decided I needed a vacation,” K’nara said. “I’ve been adjusting to the death of my par’mach’kai and decided I didn’t have to spend all my time on Qo’noS. So, I came here to visit Kedanya. I didn’t know you would be here too.”

“We had a little shore leave so we came out for a visit,” Jahkar said. Before he could introduce K’nara to Tiri, the elder Klingon had taken notice of her and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Who’s this?” K’nara asked.

Tiri stepped forward with a hand extended to Jahkar’s mother, “I’m Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith, I’m a colleague of Jahkar’s.”

K’nara accept the handshake, then looked to Jahkar curiously, “You hadn’t mentioned you had a…friend.”

“A colleague, we serve together,” Jahkar said. “I invited her to join me on shore leave.”

K’nara nodded, “I see. It is an honor to meet you, lieutenant. I am K’nara.”

“You are just in time for dinner,” he said. “I’m making Ilia’s hasperat.”

“I remember that,” she said. “Very spicy…but not bad. As long as I am not imposing.”

“Grandma,” Kedanya said. “You’re not. Come on, I’ll put you in my room.”

“No,’ Jahkar said. “Give your grandmother my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight.”

K’nara took her grandmother to Jahkar’s bedroom to help her settle in and Tiri moved from the counter where she was working to stand next to Jahkar. “That was awkward,” she whispered.

Jahkar smiled, “Yes, if I know my mother the wheels are already spinning in her head. Trying to figure out if we’re more than friends.”

Tiri looked at him and paused a moment, before saying, “I suppose it is a question a mother would ask.”

Jahkar returned to making his hasperat, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then shifted his attention back to the food preparation. “I’m about to put this in the oven. How’s yours coming?”

Tiri smiled and went back to the counter she’d been working at where she held up two plates of food, “Andorian frost eel and for a vegetable, Andorian rime leaf.”

“Eel?” he asked, enthusiastically. “Sounds like gahg.”

Tiri made a slight frown, “Mmmm…think gagh, but not alive and instead of raw, it’s cooked. Hopefully the replicators did it justice.”

The four soon gathered at a picnic table outside the house where they sat together and ate. Even Jahkar’s mother was happy to partake of the “foreign” foods, since they had not included any Klingon cuisine – most Bajoran and Andorian.

After dinner, as darkness fell, they gathered around the campfire Jahkar had built and talked into the night. The entire time, both Jahkar and Tiri were keenly aware of J’nara’s interest in them.

The days that followed included a fishing trip to the Lonsak River south of the house, a two hour hike which got started at 0700 hours. J’nara had Kedanya take the lead with Tiri at her side, while the Klingon woman fell back with her son giving them some privacy.

“So, you never told me about this girl,” K’nara said.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” he groaned, keeping his voice hushed so Kedanya and Tiri could not hear them. “Really, mother, she is just my friend.”

K’nara nodded, “How is Chas’naH?”

“Well,” he said. “She was on our last mission with us. Afterwards, she was offered a posting with us, but chose a different assignment and left…as usual.”

“Son, a woman like that you have to follow, pursue,” K’nara said, her voice ringing with romanticism. “She wants you to lead, to take charge. You have to be firm and strong to win her.”

“Mother, I have spent 20 years pursing her. She is in and out of my life,” Jahkar muttered. “I’ve decided I’m done with that.”

K’nara glared at him, “And you’re giving her up for this…child?”

“I told you we’re not together!” he hissed at her. “I like her…sure…she’s fun and she’s refreshing. I want to be friends with her, that’s all.”

“Baktag! (JK- Klingon equivalent of bullshit)” she growled. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. This young woman is not what you need, Jahkar. She is weak and frail.”

Jahkar stopped and turned to his mother, who also came to a halt as they crossed the grassy hills leading to the river. “She’s tough and she is much stronger than you might think. Do not underestimate her. Now enough of this. If I have something to report about my life, mother, I will let you know.”

Jahkar started walking again, leaving K’nara to ponder for a long time before she started back up and followed them to the river.

The following day, back at the house, Jahkar and Tiri had reached the end of their week and were packing to go when K’nara approached her son holding a box.

“I wish I could have arrived sooner; I would have had more time with you,” she said.

Jahkar smiled, “Well, at least we had a couple of days. What are your plans now?”

“I’m going to stay here for a few weeks, if that’s OK with you,” K’nara said. “Kedanya said she’ll come visit during her downtime. I can spend time relaxing and thinking…these last few months have been difficult. I am alone again, so I need to find my direction.”

Jahkar nodded and resumed packing, “You’ll figure it out mother. I know you will.”

Kedanya then took the box she was holding and pushed it gently toward Jahkar, “I brought these for you.”

He took the box and opened it, revealing a pair of 'obmaQ, with customized grips and other modifications based on previous axes Jahkar had purchased on Qo’noS.

All of his 'obmaQ specs were stored in the weaponsmith’s database – as Jahkar had been a frequent customer over the years.

“Mother, you shouldn’t have,” he grinned, taking one of the axes and weighing it in his hand. “I haven’t had a customized set in about six years. Ever since I lost that good set I had on Iota Centauri. I’ve been using replicator facsimiles since then.”

“I paid K’urok a visit before I came here,” she said. “I figured I’d leave them here for you next time you visited, but you happened to be here. Nothing is better than a customized weapon, forged by one of the the greatest weaponsmiths in the Empire, in your hand…except maybe a good par’mah’kai at your side.”

Jahkar shot her a sideways glance, “Drop it, mother.”

She held up her hands. “Enjoy your trip back to Earth…or wherever you’re going next.”

Jahkar nodded, setting down the 'obmaQ and hugging his mother. He then gathered up the last of his things and left the bedroom to join Tiri and Kedanya in the living room.

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Bajor

Stardate 2104.26

Tiri was outside talking with J’nara while Jahkar and Kedanya finished going over some last-minute details about the house. After checking a few things like the house’s climate controls, replicator matter storage levels, security systems and communications suite, Jahkar turned to his daughter and gave her a nod.

“Everything should be good for a while,” he told her. “Contact information for the company that fills the matter storage containers is in the comm-unit. Call them when you see the monitor on that drop below a quarter full.”

“Got it,” she said.

“Well,” he said, picking up his bag. “I guess I’m ready to go.”

Kedanya folded her arms across her chest and gave him a cross look, which Jahkar noticed was very much the way Ilia would have looked at him if she were annoyed.

“Anything else before you go?” she asked. “Anything you’re forgetting?”

Jahkar put his arms out and smiled, “A hug?”

“No!” she barked at him. “Dad, you’ve been here seven days. You haven’t once mentioned Tajel, asked me how he’s doing or if I’ve heard from him.”

Jahkar sighed and dropped his bag. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to hear anything that would ruin my visit with you.”

“You always assume the worst with him,” Kedanya shook her head in disgust. “Did you know he graduated?”

Jahkar nodded, “We corresponded. I was away on a mission. He said he was assigned to assist with exiting occupation forces in the Cardassian Union. He’s on Outpost 316”

Kedanya nodded, “And…”

Jahkar’s mood soured, “I understand he got himself in some trouble before graduating. Attended some anti-occupation rallies with a young Cardassian woman. Fell behind in some classes and barely passed. “

“You’re mad at him, aren’t you?” she glowered.

“Because he consistently does things to get himself in trouble,” Jahkar muttered. “This thing with the Cardassian anti-occupation movement, that’s just plain reckless. Again, he fails to look at the bigger picture.”

“Why are you always down on him, dad?” Kedanya asked, disappointment obvious in her voice. “He tries.”

“But yet he still manages to mess things up,” Jahkar said. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask about him. Is there anything I should know?”

She shook her head, “I heard from him a few days before you arrived. He was at his new posting. Sounded boring, but the commanding officer there seems to rely on his Cardassian expertise quite a bit.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s working out for him,” he said. “I started a letter to him before I left. I’ll finish it when I get back and send it to him.”

She nodded, “He’s trying dad. He just wants to make you proud.”

“I know,” he said, picking up his bag again. “C’mon. We need to get on our way. If we don’t leave now, we won’t make it back in time.”

They headed out the door and found K’nara and Tiri outside…

While Jahkar and Kedanya were inside, Tiri found herself outside with K’nara. The Klingon woman joined her where she was standing, by the beam-out location, and gave Tiri a smile that reminded the Andorian of the smile a Klingon might flash just before attacking someone with their bat’leth.

“We didn’t have much time to talk,” K’nara said. “I’m sorry, I would have liked to have gotten to know you better.”

Tiri grinned, “I’m sorry we didn’t. I’m glad Jahkar got to see you.”

“Yes,” K’nara said. “I have missed him and my granddaughter. So, tell me Tiri, how well do you know my son?”

Tiri shrugged, “We’ve been on a couple missions together. I guess not real well, but this trip has given us a chance to become better friends.”

“Friends. Yes, he made it a point to tell me you were friends,” she said. “I hope you will look after him in combat as I am sure he will look after you.”

It must be a Klingon thing, the Andorian thought to herself. She offered another smile, “I will. He is very loyal to all his friends. We all have each other’s backs.”

“I’m sure you do,” K’nara said. The door from the house opened and father and daughter stepped outside and walked toward Tiri and K’nara.

"Are you ready, lieutenant?” he asked as he walked up.

“Ready…sir,” she said, looking at K’nara.

Jahkar hugged Kedanya and then his mother, while Tiri only received a hug from the younger woman. Kedanya merely gave her a nod as she and Jahkar stood together with their bags.

“Take care, both of you,” he said. “I’ll see you again, soon.” He then keyed his subvocal communicator. “Runabout Harmony…two to beam up.”

A short time later, they were on the Harmony and had gone to warp, cruising for Sol at top speed…

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## S3, E3, Act 8: Reunion (extended edition)

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Lieutenant Cody Beckett

Sergeant Major Robert Pickering (Ret.)

Lieutenant Amanda “Ducky” Düklinqik-Pickering (Ret.)

Ipswich, Massachusetts, Earth

Stardate 2104.26

Will, Daryl and Robert emerged from the office after about twenty minutes of friendly conversation. Afterward the trio made their way to the kitchen where Ducky, Sarah and Beckett had been waiting for them. McCulloch noticed through the kitchen window three of Pickering’s younger children playing in the yard.

“Are you boys done gossiping?” Ducky asked with a smirk before she winked at Robert.

“We’re done for now but I was thinking of taking everyone to Salem for the day. We can take the boat.”

“I think we’re good.” Sarah replied as she looked playfully at Beckett. “I think we’re going to head into Boston instead.”

“Someone is off to a good start with Ms. Pickering.” Thompson noted to McCulloch.

“I bet he listened to my advice.” McCulloch countered.

“God I hope not.” Daryl countered.

“Before Sarah and Cody leave, I need a word with my former assistant.” The Scot suddenly announced. Robert eyed McCulloch for a brief moment as Sarah did a double take in surprise. Beckett was unsure how to respond.

“It has to do with some loose ends at Inverness. This will only take a moment.”

“Of course.” Ducky interjected. “Sarah why don’t the two of you step out onto the patio. I’ll fix some snacks for you and Cody for your trip into Boston, ‘kay?”

“Thanks Duck.” Sarah replied as she followed Will out onto the patio. As the pair looked out towards the ocean, his former assistant broke the silence.

“Will, about the funeral.”

“I could care less about that right now Sarah. Although I wished you hadn’t vomited on me.”

Sarah chuckled softly. “That was pretty ugly. Regardless, I am truly sorry for my behavior.”

“So am I Sarah. But that’s not why I brought you out here. I need three disruptor pistols or phasers.” Will announced softly as he looked back into the kitchen, smiled and then waved to Ducky. “Does Robert have a weapons locker on his property Daryl or I could get access to?”

“What is going on?” Sarah asked with both a tone of concern and excitement.

“We had a house break at Lieutenant Commander Thompson’s residence last evening. We left our weapons behind and we’d prefer to play it safe while we’re on shore leave.”

Sarah reflected in silence for a moment. “Robert and Ducky both have lockers.”

“Ducky too?” McCulloch replied, somewhat surprised as he watched Robert’s children race across the yard chasing each other.

“From what my brother has told me, Ducky’s collection is far more extensive than his and includes some pretty heavy weaponry.

The Scot tried his best not to laugh at Sarah’s comment. “The marine turned hippie is packing more heat than the dropship gunner? Incredible.”

“She was just as bada\*\*, if not more bada\*\*, than Robert.” Sarah countered.

“So, can you get us access to the lockers?” Will asked as he redirected the conversation. “If not, I’m going to need you to contact Inverness’ satellite office in New York City and have three weapons beamed to us immediately.”

“I’m not breaking into Robert or Ducky’s locker.” Sarah announced as she too looked into the kitchen and winked at Beckett. “I’ll send a message to James Hawethorne at the Inverness New York office now. We have a few Klingon and Breen disruptors on site that we were studying for a weapons dealer. You’ll have the pistols in the next thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Sarah.” McCulloch announced as she walked away from him. Suddenly she stopped and turned to face the Scot. “Two weapons, not three. There is no way Cody is bringing a weapon with him on our date.”

“Then two disruptors it is.” Will conceded.

“You seem to be in an awful rush to get your hands on some pistols. Are you sure everything is alright?”

“Everything is fine.” McCulloch lied. “It’s just that housebreak spooked us, and we’d feel better if the weapons were in our hands as soon as possible.”

Sarah nodded in agreement and turned to return to Beckett.

As McCulloch quietly informed Thompson that he had acquired weapons for the two of them, Sarah and Cody left for Boston. As the pair crossed the front lawn of the residence, Ducky excitedly waved goodbye to them. After they turned a bend on the property, Sarah excitedly grabbed Cody by the hand and pulled him towards one of the smaller storage shops near the residence. She quickly tapped a security code and entered into the small structure. Cody naturally followed. Once inside, the lieutenant noticed the walls were lined with bottles of whiskey and rum.

Sarak looked playfully at Cody as a devilish grin spread across her face. She seized a bottle of New England rum and a bottle of scotch whiskey. She giggled and winked again before kissing him.

“Now Mr. Beckett we are ready for our date.”

Commander Mayla Vree

Spacedock, Earth

Stardate 2104.27

Mayla materialized on the transporter pad at the same transporter station she departed from almost two weeks earlier. She didn't bother looking out the window to watch the Nova Maru leave because she knew it was already gone. But she went to the window anyway to get away from the crowded station counter. She double checked her uniform in the window's reflection and made sure she had her commander's rank pips on instead of an admiral's.

'Lani, please put in a request to Umbra Prime to come pick me up.' Mayla mentally vocalized to the newly integrated AI Sorvek used to call Meg. Now named Lani, after her deceased younger sister-Nilani. Kyril and Jasid had persuaded her that the AI was safe and that Sorvek had been using it for years to help with the administration of Blackthorn; amongst its duties as his personal assistant. Mayla had given the AI protocols to follow when they were in the Milky Way and to not intrude on the normal functioning of life and duties here. She had to let out a sigh at that thought, because the same protocol got Sorvek killed. After a while, it also felt more natural to call her a 'she' instead of an 'it' as her conversational linguistics was nearly on par with a sentient lifeform. Or maybe Kyril and Jasid were hiding that from her? Maybe Lani was already sentient, after all she was created with the same routines as another AI that did become sentient.

Either way, Lani was now here to stay. To make her less sounding like Sorvek's Meg, Mayla had the AI sample Nilani's voice from old recordings and aged it to the vocal resonance of what she may have sounded like as a young adult. It wasn't different enough to be an adult and unrecognizable, but young enough that she still sounded similar to the way she did before she died.

The next upgrade took a bit longer for her to adjust to, even though she could have changed it anytime she wanted. Her eye lenses were upgraded along with her subvocal linked with Lani. Now, whenever Lani needed to get her attention or to speak with her, a small computer generated representation of a young woman would appear in a small window that would also display Lani's message to her. The character's generated physicality was one of what Nilani would have looked like at 20 years of age. Not only will the eye lenses display Lani's image, it will also show a stock image of whomever she was speaking with over the subvocal based on voice pattern recognition and frequency the communique was using. Only Lani would be animated...of sorts. As time went by, the AI would develop a character and personality profile based on what it thinks Mayla required.

'Aye, Mayla. Sending the request now.' Lani responded crisply and stiffly as if she was a fresh ensign.

The Trill looked around the station and everything was the same as the last time she was here. And it probably looked like this all the time. She went back to the same spot she sat at when she first waited for the Nova Maru to arrive. Just as she sat down, Lani appeared in her eye lenses.

'I'm receiving a response from Umbra Command. They report the soonest they can arrive is tomorrow morning at 0900. Colonel Jahkar had taken the runabout Harmony for shore leave and the others are currently out on assignments. You will have to wait for the daily regularly scheduled shuttle.'

Mayla picked up her duffel and got back up. 'Which one?'

'Shuttle Tano.'

'Alright. Acknowledge them, and get my quarters here ready.' Shuttle Tano was the largest shuttle assigned to Umbra Prime, a type 11 whereas the other three, the Kryze, the Shand, and the Dune were the smaller type 18 shuttles.

'Already on it, Mayla.'

It was a good thing she had decided to return a day before the team was due to report in. Lani had provided her a map in her eyes to follow to her suite given over to her from her father. As she approached the dedicated turbolift to the Diplomatic Residence levels, she had to enter a restricted area meant for those mainly with diplomatic credentials. But they let her through with her credentials without much scrutiny. When the turbolift opened on her level, what beheld her in the corridor made her pause.

The wide corridor was luxuriously decorated with replicated artifacts from varying cultures of the Federation from tapestries, paintings, wall art, and various pieces of furniture to allow people to sit down in the wide corridor. The plush carpeting muffled footfalls and kept the level quiet to respect the privacy of its inboard and outboard suite inhabitants. Sunlight was filtered and reflected through the ceiling fixtures to light up the hallway. In between entryways to the suites on the side of the outer hull were large windows showing the exterior view of the station. Upon a closer look, she noticed that they weren't windows at all, only made to look like windows. They were actually large monitors streaming the exterior view. It made sense since behind the 'windows' were the suites themselves which probably had real windows.

When she reached her suite, the limited AI of the suite scanned and recognized her immediately before opening the door. In fact, the AI of the entire area kept a close watch on everyone accessing these suites as security was nearly at its highest here to ensure everyone here was protected and safe. She was most likely being watched right now by station security.

When she entered her suite, she scoffed at the immense size of the dwelling. Along one wall running nearly the full length of the suite's common area was a panoramic window about 15 meters long that showed an unobstructed view of the Earth. The suite was made in the most opulent manner for an ambassador/delegate and their staff. The long common room was separated with several seating and eating areas. Upon closer inspection, there were rails in the ceiling that allowed the room to be partitioned off into several smaller rooms. She peered into the master bedroom and it also had its own panoramic window, only not as long. The two other guest bedrooms and an office had the same. This suite was entirely overkill for just one person. Also included were cleaning bots stored in a closet that came out once a day to clean the entire suite.

She dumped her oversized duffel bag on one of the couches facing the window and she sat down into the soft but supportive loungeable seat cushions. The view of Earth was astounding, maybe a little bit too astounding. The window itself might be adding additional colors to the image from different spectrums of light. Then she realized that the suite's AI probably knew what spectrums of light the primary inhabitant could see through their own eyes, and applied those filters to the image coming in through the window glass. Pure opulence.

The illuminated Earth filled the suite with reflected diffused light, so it was unnecessary to have any lights on inside the suite. As the Earth spun over to sunset, the lights would automatically slowly illuminate to give the suite the same amount of lumination. As it was approaching now.

She let out a laugh that echoed in the quiet space when she imagined the Future's Edge owner living in a suite like this. Nemtac was indeed living it up in opulence. She could see small lanes of ship traffic going by, either coming up from the planet or going down. Including the occasional larger ship approaching the station. It was completely silent inside the suite except for her own breathing despite lanes of far away traffic outside. She let herself become immersed in the silence and view as she relaxed for the first time in weeks.

She sat like that for well over an hour, watching the sun set across the Earth and the station. She overrode the lighting in the suite and just allowed the city lights to faintly illuminate the interior and just sat there in the silent semi-dark.

Her mind was replaying her visit to Blackthorn Base and was satisfied with the accomplishments of the visit. She was able to see everything for herself and slowly mended a few bonds with her father, but not all. It still stung he wanted to be detached from the people and life he once had here. And then for her edification, they performed a complete base move to a new location to show their precision and efficiency after dozens of spontaneous moves over the past decade.

A chime sounded softly in her eyes showing her the time-1900 hours. She looked over at the top of the line food replicator and decided against it. She was at Spacedock with hundreds of restaurants and eateries she could eat at, why eat from the replicator? There will be plenty of that type of food on Umbra Prime.

Commander Mayla Vree

Diplomatic Residence Level, Earth Spacedock

Stardate 2104.28

"Ambassador, please, I have my orders!"

"I don't need an escort. I know my way around Spacedock." A man exclaimed loudly. "Be gone or I will rip your heart out of your chest and feed it to a d'blok!" The same voice this time letting out a growl.

Mayla didn't even make it to the banks of turbolifts before hearing the argument and the familiar growl of a Klingon. "What's the problem?" she asked the ensign as she turned the corner and stopped. There she saw a short, human male ensign trying to look authoritative to the towering Klingon in civilian garb with a gloved fist held out in front of him. Standing beside him was an equally tall Klingon, but in his usual Klingon duty armor.

The ensign gratefully took the opportunity to look away to the superior officer than the menacing fist held out in front of his chest. "Commander, my orders were to be Ambassador Worf's chaperone for the duration of his visit to Spacedock."

"I don't need a chaperone! I was in Starfleet long before you were born, Ensign. And I know my way around a Starfleet facility. Now leave!" Worf bellowed. A Bolian ambassador had just turned a corner on the opposite side of the turbolift lobby, then immediately did an about face and went back the other way.

To Mayla's surprise, while she took in the situation, she saw that the Klingon standing next to Worf was General Kraven of the Rotarran II. He glanced down at her with a look of recognition.

"I see," Mayla said. "Well, Ensign, it seems you only have two choices open to you. Either you let the Ambassador remove your heart with extreme prejudice, or you return to your CO and explain to him the circumstances. I would suggest the latter."

The ensign deflated, still eyeing the fist that was now simulating a heart pumping in it.

"You can tell him you were ordered, rather forcefully, by the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire that he is evoking his right of refusing security. If your CO still demands it, the Ambassador will still be here when you return. As you can see, he already has an escort courtesy of the Klingon Empire."

The ensign looked at her, then to the Ambassador, then back to her and nodded. Mayla waited for the ensign to be gone before looking up at the sparingly decorated robed Klingon with the simple ornamental trappings of a Federation representative to the Klingon Empire. "Ambassador, he will return with a writ from the Federation diplomatic corps that says you must adhere to regulations to have a chaperone while at Spacedock. I suggest you not be here when he returns."

Ambassador Worf let out a hearty laugh. "Employing Starfleet administrative subtlety and trickery, I see. I have not seen that in a very long time." He looked over to Kraven who was still looking at the Trill.

"Commander," Kraven said while giving her a nod in greeting.

"General," Mayla returned the acknowledgement.

Worf gave them a surprised look. At least surprise enough for a Klingon. "Do you know each other?"

Mayla gave Kraven the slightest shake of her head to indicate perhaps Worf should not know the circumstances they had met. But Kraven just held up his hand when he noticed her gesture. He leaned over to whisper into Worf's ear.

"I see," the Ambassador said after listening for a few moments. "I have read the full report of the *Rotarran*'s last mission, given to me by the General before the High Council classified it beyond my access. There was no mention of a Starfleet officer on the bridge."

She glanced at Kraven and just responded to Worf with a shrug. She didn't know what was in that report nor what Kraven just told him, but it was better that she didn't say anything and change the subject. "Is the *Rotarran* here?" she asked instead.

Kraven scowled. "After the Chancellor died, the *Rotarran* was confined to the homeworld. I was temporarily reassigned to escort the Ambassador back to Earth after the death ritual."

Mayla nodded. "I'm sorry about the Chancellor. Please accept my condolences. I wish I could have met with him one last time before he died."

"That last battle was to be his last glorious one. Martok was a brave honored warrior, mentor, and a friend," Worf said.

She nodded, now switching to Klingon. "He was. My father also knew him during the War and considered the same. I hope Martok's honorable deeds and bravery earned him easy entry into Sto'Vo'Kor." She smiled at Kyril's memories of the former Chancellor, and then she remembered that Worf was on Deep Space Nine when she first visited there as a young girl. "You've also met my father before at Deep Space Nine. We both knew Jadzia Dax." She nearly added that they also knew Ezri Dax before she became Dax. Mayla took a step back and gave him the ritual hand gesture of grief. "I'm very sorry to hear of your loss. That's another friend I wished I had seen again one last time."

The Klingon Ambassador acknowledged her gesture, a bit surprised she even knew it, and in Klingon. "Your condolences are appreciated, Commander." He looked at her questioningly. "Vree? I remember a Commander Vree from- *He stopped short as his eyes widened just a bit as he connected each piece of information from his past to what Kraven just told him. If he remembered correctly, her father and his team were part of Starfleet Intelligence at the time; some type of specialized commando unit.*

Then Kraven had just told him that this Commander Vree was on the bridge of the Rotarran in their recent battle with the IKS CharghwI' as a designated advisor to the Chancellor. The report did say a small infiltration team stormed the rogue ship and brought down various ship's systems from within so it could be disabled. But the report just allowed the reader to presume the team was Klingon. But why else would a Starfleet officer be on board the Klingon flagship? And by reading her demeanor and stance, she was no diplomat. It was probably safe enough to deduce she must also be part of Starfleet Intelligence. His eyes now widened. That infiltration team was most likely some Starfleet Intelligence covert operations team, not a Klingon one.

"Well, that explains the Rotarran," he said cryptically, giving her a smile and holding out his hand.

Mayla frowned at him and glanced over to Kraven, realizing the Ambassador had figured something out. She shook his hand. "Not too much, I hope."

Worf gave out a hearty laugh. "Have you already eaten? If not, please join us for dinner in my suite, Commander. I have been on Qo'nos for so long I have forgotten what Federation food tasted like. I would like to hear about your relationship with Jadzia...and old times if it is not too personal."

"It would be my pleasure, Ambassador." She looked over at Kraven who just gave her a neutral look, not knowing if this was a good idea or not. But neither did she. As long as they kept the discussions more towards Worf's time on Deep Space Nine, it should be fine.

And as long as they also kept away from the topic of the falling out between Kyril and Captain Kira Nerys after the disastrous mission she had Bravo Squad perform on Bajor under false pretenses that could have nearly expelled Bajor from the Federation. Or Kyril's assault on her security chief at the time-Ro Laren, which left her with a broken jaw, broken nose, and a fractured cheek. Bravo Squad had left the station not on the best of terms at the time.

Maybe it might be best not to discuss too much about old times at Deep Space Nine.

Lieutenant Ryramorl Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Capital City, Carnor

Stardate 2104.28

Ryramorl was watching over his brother Myaral.  Neither he nor Rynaya had left the High Chief’s side except when they were shooed out for the night.  Myaral’s son was mostly running things in the tribe, but it was clear this was only temporary, as the Chief’s Cloak remained on Myaral’s bed, and Holder Ryramorl sat behind where the High Chief would usually sit instead of taking his spot.

The three sat in silence, until someone came to the room with a message.  “First Elder Name of Ryramorl in the La’an Tribe of Ra’yral?”

“Yes?” asked Ryramorl.

“I am sorry, but I just received a message:  You are being summoned back to the Long Hunt.”

“Go, my dear brother,” said Myaral.  “The hunt awaits, and I will live.  Take water with you for the Warlord MacLeod.”

“I shall.”  The two rubbed faces, then Ryramorl had to leave.

Ryramorl shared a transport with Rygaran D’Hronarin, Ry’ala’ara, and his son Ee’an.  Ghronar was already in training, and Ryramorl knew this would cause the two to become more distant--not estranged, but the simple fact was that Ghronar would live in both the physical world, and the Other World only the shamans knew, and this put distance between the two.

At the spaceport, The four Carnora boarded a shuttle that would take them to the massive Yeermar Den Ship, captained by Holder Of The Name Ra’alor in the Yeermar Tribe of Ra’yral, the grandfather of the one who now Held that name in the new Kazis Tribe.

“We’ll be picking up your friend Reepchip from Muransurak,” said Ra’alor.  As they waited, Ra’alor said.  “Look out the window.  See anything strange?”

Ryramorl looked out at Carnor down below.  It took several minutes for him to realize the planet wasn’t slipping from view.  He looked at Ra’alor.  “This ship isn’t spinning.”

“Recently had gravity plating installed.  Adapted it from what the Federation builds and got it to work here.  Actually, makes the ship easier to navigate once you get used to it.”  The two stepped away from the bridge.  “How do you think Myaral is?”

“He can move all his limbs, and he’s beginning to heal.  I don’t think we’ll have to worry about a new High Chief any time soon.”

“Chief Ray’oro kind of surprised me by not bitching.”

“Did not surprise me.”  Ryramorl’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “Chief Ra’alor, keep this to yourself, but very few outside the Yeero Tribe know how old he actually is.  His support of Myaral was mostly to take pressure off himself.”

Reepchip got word that he was to head to the Muransurak Spaceport--he was being recalled to duty.  Commander Rasarak Charatetet, gathered all the soldiers and guards along with several Shamans to bless Reepchip.  The Muran had been in training the entire time, and he felt confident he’d be more ready when he returned.

The Spaceport took him to the Yeero Den Ship, where he saw Ryramorl.  He concentrated, then silently greeted them.

“I see they’ve been training you,” said Ryramorl.

“They have, quite a bit.” said Reepchip.  “Both in fighting and in telepathy.”

“I can see it.”

Ryramorl introduced Reepchip to his wife and son.  Reepchip was puzzled.  “You have two sons, don’t you?”

“Ghronar proved to be a Shaman,” said Ryramorl.  “I am very proud--yet sad, for the Shamans are always apart from the others.”

Reepchip nodded quietly.

Other passengers arrived, including the Ambassador Holder of the name Ryramorl in the  Yarman Delta Tribe.

During the trip back, Reepchip learned the exact details of the fight.

“Lyar should have let those tribes go, especially after the OverSeer told them off,” said First Elder Ryramorl.  “But he didn’t, and his son didn’t realize just how serious the situation was, so…”  Ryramorl shrugged.

At the spaceport, the ship requested permission to orbit Earth, as it could not properly dock.  After getting permission, they sent out the shuttles to take the passengers to the spaceport.

Ryramorl La’an was looking forwards to having one last meal with his wife and son before having to return to the Long Hunt.  As they headed towards the spaceport, Ee’an dropped a bombshell:  “Father, I wish to come with you on this Long Hunt.”

Ryramorl La’an and Rygaran stared at the youth.  “Son, you have no idea what you’d be getting into,” said Ryramorl.  “You may be an adult, but you are newly so, and from an Ancient Tribe.  You’d be hunting in plains you do not know.”

Ee’an frowned.  “I’ve been thinking of this since you first left.  I’ve been training with spear, sling, and sword, preparing for this.  I’ve done well, father, and I can continue learning.  I want to go with you.”

Ryramorl and his wife looked at each other.  Ee’an had long been a precocious cub, being more at ease with those older than he than with his own age.  Ryramorl La’an took a deep breath.  “It is the decision of the Hunt Masters, not me.  If they say yes, then I will do my best to get you ready.  If they say no, then you will honour your tribe by submitting to their will without complaint.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, father.”

As the Carnora disembarked and headed down the hall, the group paused as Rygaran, Reepchip, and First Elder Name Ryramorl saw Mayla Vree walking towards them, conversing with two Klingons, one of whom all knew of quite well…

Mayla saw the Carnora walking down the corridor towards them, and among them was Ra'yral and Charatetet with a few others. She didn't look or acknowledge them, but greeted Ra'yral over the subvocal.

"Lieutenant, good shore leave?" she asked.

“Shoreleave was joyous, surprising, terrifying, difficult, saddening, and all around a storm of a thousand winds. Where are you going with Ambassador Worf?" His voice sounding tired but curious.

Meanwhile, the two Ambassadors greeted each other, but there was still the wary tension that usually existed between Klingon and Carnora..

"The Ambassador has asked me to dinner with him in his suite, that's where we're headed now. How about you? Is that the Carnora Ambassador with you?" She asked since there was no other way anyone but would have access to the diplomatic residence levels.

“He is, and a member of a subject tribe of the Ra’yral. We are going to his quarters to eat.  Also, Mistress of the Long Hunt, I need to speak to you later.”  As he said this over his subvoc, he glanced at a grim-looking young Carnora--one barely into adulthood, with concern.  And odd that he’d use a clearly Carnora title, but he must have had a purpose.

"Have a good meal then. How are you getting back to Base?" They were already beyond visual view now that they turned a corner. "A shuttle is coming to pick me up at 0900 tomorrow."

Earth Orbit

Stardate 2104.28

The door of the bridge opened, and the officer, ranked lieutenant commander entered the bridge. It was dimly lit, but all stations were occupied and working. "status" the Lt. Commander stated.

"We are in orbit sir. Phase cloak is active," replied the lieutenant behind the Ops console. "Target is located. However, his signal is distorted. We can't beam him over. Our agent tried to get close to him but was interrupted and had to flee".

The Lt. Commander gruffed, dissatisfied. "Then we will acquire the target ourselves. Prepare an away team of six. Have four ready for backup. Bring a hypospray with stun doses and isolinear pattern enhancer. No killing! All weapons to set on stun. Let me know when the target moves somewhere where he can be acquired without too many problems, so we can act immediately. " The Lt. Commander turned around and walked out of the bridge without further notice…

Lt. Commander William McCulloch

Lt. Commander Daryl Thompson

Sergeant Major Robert Pickering (Ret.)

Lieutenant Amanda “Ducky” Düklinqik-Pickering (Ret.)

Ipswich, Massachusetts, Earth

Stardate 2104.28

McCulloch, Robert Pickering and Thompson watched as Sarah and Cody disappeared from sight.

“She’s going to eat him alive.” The New Englander noted again. “And they stole some of my booze as well...what are they, seventeen years old?”

“Fools in love.” Thompson quipped to no one in particular as the three turned and started to walk back to Robert’s home. Ducky was approximately a hundred meters ahead playing with her two youngest children on the lawn. Her two middle children were off near the shoreline with the oldest child, a fourteen year old boy named Joshua,.

“Do either of you have plans for the remainder of the day?” Pickering asked. “I would love to take you out sailing on Ipswich Bay, show you some of the islands and perhaps grab a few drinks in Salem.”

“I’d like that.” Thompson replied. “Although I find the Atlantic Ocean far more tamer than the Pacific.”

Robert laughed as he looked back over his shoulder towards the ocean. He watched the light dance on the water for a moment as he reflected in silence over his good fortune in life.

Suddenly, a shimmer along a nearby treeline caught his attention. He studied the area carefully, wondering if a reflection of light on the water was playing tricks on him. As he glared intently towards the woodline, Thompson and McCulloch observed what Robert was doing, turned around and walked back to join him.

“Everything all right mate?” McCulloch asked.

“Something was moving in the woodline.”

“An animal? Perhaps a deer?” Thompson pondered.

“Not at this time of day. The deer around here are mostly nocturnal.”

“What did you see then?” Thompson pressed.

“I don’t know, but it was using a phased cloak.” Pickering reported, his voice becoming very soft. “I spent enough time behind Dominion lines during the war to recognize the earmarks of a phased cloak. Something is in that woodline is watching us.”

The trio continued to study the treeline in tense silence for several moments. As if on cue, Thompson abruptly observed not one, but three separate shimmers dance along the edge of the woodline.

“I saw it too.” McCulloch announced before Daryl could report his observations.

A blue ball of energy shot out from the woodline and slammed into the chest of a groundskeeper between the woodline and the trio. He crumpled to the ground unconscious.

Seconds later, six operatives, clad in black light armor and rifles at the ready materialized. They were in a half circle skirmish line and advancing quickly towards the three men.

“What the #$%^ is this?” Thompson demanded as he looked about in confusion.

“No time, run!” PIckering barked as the three turned around and started racing towards his house. Energy bolts flashed all around them as they sprinted for cover. The Scot cursed as he realized they were already being flanked on either side as operatives moved to intercept the retreating men.

As they sprinted up the lawn, Pickering started yelling towards Ducky.

“Duck! Ducky! The children! Get the children out of here! Take them to the boat now!”

Ducky didn’t wait for Robert to join her. She quickly hoisted her two little ones into her arms and immediately rushed the pair to safety.

When they reached the crest of the hill, Robert, Will and Daryl dived over a large stone wall, landed on a patio and hugged the ground as energy blasts flew overhead.

“What did you do McCulloch?” Robert roared as he lay flat on the ground. “You bring a war to my home and endanger my family?”

“I have no idea who the $%^& these six are.” The Scot answered as he looked over the stone wall. The six operatives were closing in fast on their position.

“Are they Black Watch?” Pickering demanded.

“The Black Watch is dead and gone. Besides, even if they still were around, it’s not them. There’s no thistle insignia on their armor.”

“I swear to God McCulloch if this is somehow related to your past antics.”

“We need weapons!” Thompson interrupted. “You have to have a weapons locker somewhere on the property.”

“There are two. One is in my office, the other is…”

Robert didn’t finish his sentence as a concussion grenade landed in the patio and skidded across the cobbled stone surface. Thompson instinctively lunged for it, grabbed it and tossed it back towards their assailants. The device detonated mid-air, blowing out nearby windows overlooking the patio.

“That is going to bloody cost you McCulloch! Those windows are over two hundred years old!” Pickering hissed.

“I don’t know who these jack-asses are!” The Scot countered.

“You two can stay here fighting with each other if you want but I am sure as hell not going to check out lying on my belly.” Thompson shouted.

Robert and McCulloch nodded in agreement.

“Pickering, we have to give Ducky time to evacuate with your kids. You go with her, we’ll hold off the attack.” McCulloch countered.

“Like hell I will. I am not leaving my home.” Robert replied as the operatives closed to within 30 meters of their position.

“Hand to hand?” Thompson asked.

“Hand to hand.” McCulloch repeated. “I sure as hell hope I remember what Vree and Jahkar taught me.”

“You’re working with Jahkar?” Robert asked as he readied himself for the operatives to surge over the patio wall. “He’s a good and honorable man. I remember…”

Suddenly, Pickering’s story was drowned out by a barrage of heavy fire from a Type IV phaser rifle off along the left flank. Robert looked over and saw Ducky rapidly advancing across the lawn, her rifle at the ready as she laid down a suppressing fire. Slung across her back were three more rifles.

The operatives instinctively activated their cloaking devices, but Ducky smiled. She withdrew a grey metal ball and tossed it towards their last known position before falling back. There was a brief hum as a short ranged EMP grenade detonated. The operatives' cloaks, as well as their weapons went offline. The six suddenly became sitting ducks.

(Narrator’s voice...no pun intended of course)

“#$%^ with my family you #$%^ with a marine!” Ducky hissed as she opened fire on the exposed operatives, instantly dropping two of them. The remaining four quickly retreated back towards the woodline.

McCulloch, Robert and Thompson stood up and gladly accepted rifles from the marine mother as she passed them out.

“Where did you get Type IV rifles?” McCulloch asked with morbid curiosity.

“Better yet, what other toys do you have in your locker?” Thompson asked. There was a slight tone of concern in his voice.

“None of your damn business, okee dokee?” Ducky answered.

“Soft as a grape.” Thompson muttered to himself.

“What was that Starfleet?” Ducky demanded as she puffed up and stepped towards Daryl.

“Nothing, nothing.” Thompson answered as he tried to diffuse the situation.

“The children?” Robert asked nervously.

“All safe on the boat. Joshua is sailing them out to the middle of the harbor.”

“Good.”

“Who are they?” Ducky demanded as she glared at the Scot.

“He has no idea. None of us do.” Thompson announced so as to avoid another argument with the Pickerings. “But they're coming back.”

The four looked across the lawn and saw a single drone dancing above the treeline. Below the drone, Robert saw the operatives had possibly been joined by reinforcements and were now regrouping.

“Yippy…$%^&ing...skippy.” Ducky growled.

McCulloch rested his Type IV rifle on the stone wall and looked through the scope at the treeline. There were now two drones hovering above the wood patch and it appeared the operatives had brought in the big guns...a mortar tube.

“We’re about to get hit with air and artillery support.” The Scot announced as Thompson looked through his own scope.

“@#$% me.” Thompson cursed. “Who the #$%^ are these people? They are not #$%^ing around.”

“Suggestions?” Robert asked softly.

“We can’t hold this position too long so I would recommend we organize a covering retreat through the house and then away from the shoreline. We’ve got to draw them away from where your children are.” McCulloch replied.

“Agreed.” Ducky answered as she fired a single shot towards the operatives’ position. “Or we could try a counterattack. Catch them off guard.”

However, before the group could answer the marine’s proposal there was a loud pop from the woodline. McCulloch looked across the lawn and saw a puff of blue smoke hovering over the mortar tube. A black object arced towards them and detonated above their position. There was a bright flash followed by a series of explosions. Shattered glass from blown out windows rained down on the four.

“Concussion grenades!” Thompson announced as a series of successive pops followed.

“Of fudge.” Ducky exclaimed as she saw several concussion rounds sailing through the air towards their position. She quickly grabbed her husband by the back of his shirt collar and started to pull him back towards the house. The Scot and Thompson fired covering rounds towards the operatives. position and then hugged the ground.

The earth shook as multiple loud successive booms roared over their positions. McCulloch’s head started to throb and his ears rang. He was disoriented and confused. He looked over towards Thompson who was slumped against the stone wall. Blood oozed out both his ears. Behind them, he saw Ducky and Robert fired from inside the house towards the operative’s position.

With some difficulty the pair struggled back to a crouching position and peered over the patio wall. As they did, the smoke erupted from the airborne drones. Seconds later, smoke grenades detonated all about them, clouding their vision and covering the operatives’ second advance up the lawn.

As McCulloch choked on the smoke, Thompson hauled the Scot to his feet and signaled for the pair to retreat. As the two started to fall back, they instantly recognized they were once again being flanked from both sides. To their left, an operative had already reached the house and tossed a stun grenade inside. When the device detonated, Ducky yelped and collapsed to the ground unconscious. Robert roared with anger and directed his rifle fire at the assailant, killing him instantly.

Another pair of operatives descended on the right flank and rushed McCulloch and Thompson. The Scot drove the butt of his rifle into his attacker’s face, causing him to stumble and fall backwards. Meanwhile Daryl shot his attacker at point blank range.

Once free of the flanking attack, Will and Daryl retreated, firing as they entered the Pickering house. Will saw at least four operatives and two drones racing up the lawn towards their position.

We need to keep retreating!” Thompson barked as he fired through a blown-out kitchen window.

“I won’t leave Ducky!” Robert yelled back as a second stun grenade bounced into the house. The trio dived for cover as it detonated. Multiple energy bursts slammed into the house and a pair of smoke grenades were tossed into the kitchen. Above, the two drones could be heard passing over the roof of the house.

“We’re going to get cut off!” McCulloch announced.

“Is she alive? Robert, is Ducky alive?” Thompson demanded.

“She is!”

“Leave her damnit! We’ve got to go now!” McCulloch countered.

Robert growled in anger, stood up and started to fire at his assailants as he walked backwards over damaged furniture and broken glass. Thompson and McCulloch continued to fire through kitchen windows momentarily but then followed Pickering’s strategy.

Soon the trio found themselves in the adjacent living room. McCulloch looked around for an exit strategy but between the smoke and noise it was all too confusing. Will could see the shadows of the operatives as they entered the kitchen and took up firing positions.

As the trio exchanged fire with their assailants, one of the two drones slowly descended and hovered by a bay window. It quickly locked onto Robert and sprayed the living room with phaser fire. Robert was struck multiple times in the back. He dropped his rifle, collapsed to his knees and then slumped forward to the ground unconscious.

Daryl turned around and fired at the drone, disabling it before it could do more damage.

Suddenly, there were several shouts and growls as four operatives rushed into the living room to capture their prey.

“How many of these bastards are there?” McCulloch demanded as he fired his rifle at his first attacker, only to wound him. Realizing his rifle would be useless in close quarter combat, the Scot rushed forward and tackled a second assailant to the ground.

Daryl fired a volley of shots at the two remaining operatives, but they were quick to evade the shots.One shot hit one the operatives in the chest, but it was absorbed by the armor he wore.  Daryl pulled back, as he didn’t want to end up in between them. The first approached him, and Daryl attacked, using the butt of the rifle, and he hit the operative square in the stomach. The operative staggered backwards, bent over, and Daryl attacked again, this time he swung the rifle from below into the face of the operative. The operative flung backwards, blood spraying all over the place, as the rifle produced a large gash over his face. While Daryl wondered why they were attacked and who these people were, he turned around to the other operative, who lunged forward towards Daryl. In the split second, Daryl saw that McCulloch was fighting off the other two operatives.

The second operative attacked, and Daryl blocked and countered, which was blocked by the operative again. For seconds, the game of attacking, probing and trying to find a whole in the defense of each other continued, as suddenly, he saw the other operative staggering on his feet again with a hand phaser. Daryl moved aside, so the operative he was fighting was in between them, but that only worked for a second. Daryl didn’t have time, as the opponent kept attacking, keeping him busy. Through the window, another operative appeared...this one was large and bulky. Daryl was shocked as he immediately recognized the gait of the person moving in. The distraction was enough. His opponent broke through his defense and hit him square in the face. Daryl had to step backward, trying to ignore the pain, but the next moment he felt the shocking tingle of a phaser stun, and he sunk to his knees. He tried to get up, but his limbs felt like molten wax, as he slowly lost consciousness. ...

The Scot and the operative continued to violently struggle on the ground until McCulloch heard one of the others loudly announce “We have the target, we have the target. Withdraw! Withdraw!”

The remainder of the team started to retreat from the room.

McCulloch’s attacker struggled to get up on his feet but the Scot swept them from under him. The operative landed on the ground with a loud thud. Angered, he raced to stand up a second time. As Will rose to his own feet to face his opponent, the operative withdrew a combat knife, held the blade downward and announced “You Black Watch son of a b\*tch, I’m going to enjoy gutting you.”

The operative swung the blade downward towards the Scot’s chest. but Will crossed his wrists and blocked the blade from striking him. He then drove his knee up into the operative’s groin. As Will prepared to deliver another blow to his opponent, a second operative returned to the room and fired at the Scot, striking him in the chest. Will stumbled backwards and began to lose consciousness.

However, before McCulloch collapsed to the ground, the operative he had sparred with tossed his combat knife up in the air and then caught it with his other hand. He swung the blade downward into McCullcoh’s upper pectoral and smiled as he watched the Scot grimace in pain. He then kicked the Scot in the stomach forcing him to sprawl backwards to the ground.

For some time the Scot drifted in and out of consciousness as he lay bleeding on the living room floor with a knife protruding from his chest. He could smell the smoke from the small fire that had started in the kitchen, yet he was helpless to do anything.

When the emergency personnel finally arrived to treat the Scot and the Pickerings, McCulloch weakly looked up at the Starfleet nurse who was tending to him. She looked terrified and was barking orders to other medical personnel who were under her command.

Will knew he had to have been hallucinating as he swore the nurse looked just like Victoria.

“You look just like my ex-wife.” He mumbled weakly as he started to drift into unconsciousness again. “I messed up things with her and now I’m dying.”

The nurse looked down at McCulloch, smiled slightly, leaned towards him and whispered into his ear. “That’s because I am, you jackass and only I get to decide when you die.”

Victoria grabbed the knife handle and twisted it slowly twice before she removed it from her ex-husband’s chest. As the Scot groaned in pain, she nodded in approval to another medic to move the Pickerings to another room and  prepare McCulloch for transport to a Starfleet medical facility.

Moments later a case from Inverness containing two disruptor pistols materialized in the empty living room.

Lt. Cody Beckett

Pickering Estate, Earth

Stardate 2104.28

Cody walked through the debris. Parts of the house where Pickering and his family lived was heavily damaged, some parts still smoking. Luckily the storage and the distillery were unharmed by the battle. He was devastated to see what had happened here. He and Sarah were having a good time, when they heard the sound of the battle and explosions. Before they even were able to comprehend what happened, it was all over. Robert and Ducky stunned, but otherwise unharmed, but Will was in a bad shape.

Cody immediately called for help, and within a minute, emergency med teams beamed in. But he couldn’t find Daryl anywhere. He looked at Sarah, who was busy keeping the Pickering kids calm, as they squirmed around their mother, who was sitting on a couch with a blanket. She was still recuperating from the stun grenade. Robert Pickering was talking with one of the security officers of the *Resurrection*.

Cody walked up to Sarah and Ducky.

“How are you doing Ducky ?” he asked.

“I’ve seen worse,” she responded. “I’m ok. We all are. A bit shaken up, but no more. We are lucky they didn’t damage the distillery or the storage. “She eyed the lieutenant “Do you have any idea why they took Lt. Commander Thompson with them ?”

Cody pressed his lips together and shook his head

“No, not a clue” he answered. “I really don’t…” he looked towards the ground, as he wondered again why they had taken Daryl. “He sat down. He felt Sarah’s hand on his arm to comfort him as she knew he and Daryl had become close friends in the relative short time they knew each other.

Sergeant Major Robert Pickering (Ret.)

Pickering Estate, Earth

Stardate 2104.28

After he finished speaking with the security officer from the *Resurrection*, Robert walked over to Ducky, Sarah and Beckett. He studied Cody and Sarah in silence for a moment and then looked around at his damaged house.

“That was a very quick, ugly fight.”

“I’ve seen worse.” Ducky repeated again. “How many were there?”

“I think between ten and eleven operatives and two drones.”

“Errp...And we took out six or seven of them plus a drone.” Ducky summed up. “Not bad for a pair of retired marines and two Starfleet hacks!”

Robert nodded in silence before asking his sister, “Any word on McCulloch?”

“None, although he is not doing well.” Sarah replied nervously as she squeezed Cody’s arm tighter.

“I feel bad that I blamed him for this attack.”

“I’m sure he understands Robert.” Ducky noted as she picked up one of her middle children and plopped her down on her lap.

“Will you visit him?” Sarah asked softly.

The New Englander thought about the proposition for a moment and then exhaled loudly. “If they’ll let me. But this fight ended for Ducky and me when that operative group beamed off my property. I’m too long retired to be involved in a secret war again.”

“I wouldn’t have expected otherwise.” Cody conceded as he looked at each of the Pickering children.

“Give my best to Jahkar, Cody.” Pickering announced as he shook the lieutenant’s hand. “Be sure to remind him that I carried his a\*\* when we served together in Marine Ops Force Alpha.”

Cody laughed. “Sure will do.” Then he looked around the house and back to Robert. “Are you sure you are ok ? Your house looks like a swiss cheese”

Robert made a gesture “Not a problem at all. I already arranged that a team of workers and builders will start tomorrow with rebuilding. I had some plans to expand anyway, now might be the time to do so. “ He smiled, then looked serious again.

“Good luck with finding Lt. Commander Thompson.” Robert saluted, and moved his attention to his wife and kids.

Sarah walked towards Cody and hugged him tightly, then looked him deep in the eyes. “You better return sooner than later. “ she purred in his ear, then kissed him passionately. “Now go. Find Daryl. And then get back” She kissed him again, then let him go and walked back to Ducky and the kids.

Cody sighed. He tapped his combadge and requested to be beamed up. As the transporter beam enveloped him, the last thing he saw before dematerializing was Sarah as she blew him a kiss.

Lt. Commander Darva McGuire

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2104.28

As soon as the message from Beckett came in about the shootout on the Pickering Estate between Pickering, his wife, McCulloch and Thompson and an unknown team of specialized operatives and that they had abducted Daryl, everything became a flurry. Darva set out a med team to beam down along with a security detachment to set up a secure perimeter. Also she started a full spectrum sensor sweep of the whole area, and sent out messages to all local and external authorities about the incident. Then she informed Lazarus about the situation. Within seconds he walked out of his office…

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2104.29

Lazarus had been stuck on Umbra Prime during the duration of shore leave. “No rest for the wicked,” he told himself as he worked with MacLeod and the techs on the final overhaul of the station.

He was aboard *Resurrection*, orbiting Earth after taking the ship for a couple of upgrades to the main computer when McGuire appeared in his office with reports of an attack on several team members on Earth.

As she turned and left his office, Lazarus stood rigidly and adjusted his uniform. Thompson has been abducted. His mind raced immediately to the moment days earlier when Thompson told him about seeing the Greg Durham lookalike following him on Vulcan.

He hadn’t imagined it.

“Dammit,” Lazarus hissed as he followed McGuire out the door. “You’ve sent down a security and medical team?”

“Aye sir,” she said. “Requesting to personally lead the investigation into Daryl...Lt. Commander Thompson’s disappearance.”

Lazarus sighed and slowly shook his head, “Sorry Darva. You’re too close to him to be heading up the investigation. Put Lt. Stone in charge. He’s capable. You may consult, but nothing more. Understood?”

McGuire considered protesting but thought better of it. The captain was right, her objectivity was certainly compromised. “Stone is heading up the detail on the surface. I’m beaming down to inform him and to assist.”

“Make it so,” Lazarus told her. “Coordinate with Starfleet Security and local law enforcement.”

Darva made for the turbolift doors, acknowledging Lazarus as she made haste off the bridge. The captain turned to Dahrt at tactical. “Who’s back from leave?”

“Beckett and McCulloch are on Earth, involved in the whole mess at Thompson’s pad,” the Ioatian said. “Ryramorl and Reepchip just arrived on Earth. Vree is at Spacedock. Jahkar and Sh’avelith are due back in system in about two hours.”

“Notify Vree and update her on the situation,” Lazarus told Dahrt.

“Understood,” the young lieutenant said as he set about the tasks he’d been given.

“Computer,” Lazarus said, bringing up a holographic screen around his captain’s chair. “Display all files regarding the Mirror Universe.”

The computer chirped a reply and the data was scrolled up across the screens for Lazarus’ perusal.

Commander Victoria Smith

Starfleet Medical Facility, Earth

Stardate 2104.29

Victoria could not stop shaking.

For the past month she and the combat medical team she was to command at Umbra Prime...code named “Union 12” ... were dividing their time between training and shore leave on Earth. While she was visiting her parents in New Ireland, Maine, she received an emergency order to mobilize Union 12 and provide assistance to a combat situation that occurred just to her south in Massachusetts.

As Victoria was en route to the scene, she was briefed on an apparent short but close quarter firefight that involved unidentified active and retired Starfleet Intelligence operatives. Yet, when she arrived on the scene, she never imagined that she would encounter her ex- husband bleeding out on the living room floor with a combat knife protruding from his chest.

The shock of the encounter briefly overwhelmed the nurse as she briefly questioned whether she could complete the task before her. After a brief moment of doubt, she steeled herself, took command of the scene and dove right into her work.

She still harbored strong resentment towards the Scot and everything that he had put her through almost a decade earlier. Admittedly, she gained some sense of satisfaction after slowly twisting the combat knife as it protruded from his chest. Yet, as she struggled to stop Will from bleeding out, she felt nothing but complete remorse for walking away from her husband years ago and more recently, for assaulting him.

Victoria occasionally eyed Sarah Pickering as she treated McCulloch. So this was the poptart that served as the Scot’s right hand woman at Inverness for the past seven years and made a spectacle of  herself at Sorvek’s funeral. Damn her long legs and pretty eyes.

Naturally, Victoria smirked slightly as she envisioned throat punching Sarah instead of the Scot.

When she and her team materialized inside a Starfleet medical facility, she turned McCulloch over to a team of doctors who would finish treating him. As she watched the Scot being whisked away, she looked down and noted his blood was smeared all over her clothes and stained her hands.

She started to shake as she choked back tears. Her last encounter with her husband involved throat punching and then threatening his career. Would those be the last words she would ever get to say to Will?

Victoria looked around at her surroundings to see if there was a face, any familiar face, she could turn to for support.

Lt. Commander Tommy Carmichael

Admiral Kirsten Clancy

Starfleet Command, San Francisco

Stardate 2104.29

Lieutenant Commander Carmichael watched the video yet again, studying the signs Ryramorl had made to Reepchip.  He’d done some research into what MacLeod had said about the Carnora trying to get all the technology they could, and discovered that indeed, Carnora engineers had been applying to academies in both quadrants.

Ryramorl seemed to have something to hide--but what, and from whom?  That was why he’d arranged a meeting with Admiral Clancy, to see if she could shed some light on it.

Finally, he was allowed to come in to see the Admiral.  “What is it?” she asked.

“I told Ensign Charatetet to keep away from the coaxial drive.  Just after I explained that he had to stay out of this, Lt. Ra’yral signed something.  And I’m concerned.”

He showed her the video recording he’d gotten from the security cameras.

Admiral Clancy watched it.  “Luckily, we do have a program that will interpret their sign language and show it as text.  I just hope it’s one we know,” she said.  When she played the video through the program, they read the text.  “Consider them as well-guarded as the workings of the Spirit Crystal Array.”

Lt. Commander Carmichael frowned.  “The Spirit Crystal Array?”

“Somehow, we don’t know how, but somehow, they managed to develop a subspace communications network that allows its users to communicate telepathically across lightyears.  If any of those devices goes missing, the Carnora will stop at nothing to either get it back or destroy it.”  She took a deep breath.  “Starfleet Intelligence did get their hands on one, though.  We found a wrecked ship shortly after the Dominion War that had one, and we managed to salvage it for study.  I was in charge of that group.  The first time we started it up, we had a Betazoid using it.  All of a sudden, he drew his phaser and blew the device to oblivion.  He then immediately tossed his phaser to the floor and surrendered himself to Security.

“During interrogation, he kept saying that the Carnora would tolerate no intrusion.  Sometimes he would speak in a language that nobody understood, not even him.  But he did say that the next time the Carnora Ambassador came by, he’d come with someone who wanted to talk to me,” she looked at Carmichael.  “When the Ambassador came, he personally asked to see me, and introduced me to a Muran who, he said, no longer needed a name. Once we were in my office, I offered him a seat.”

She paused for a moment, remembering the tiny creature who had come with them.  “He sat in mid air, hovering over my desk!  He never said a word aloud, he only communicated telepathically.  He told me that he was a Silent Shaman and a Master of the Hidden Hand, and he was here to tell me that next time we tried using the network, they’d simply erase the user’s mind.”

Clancy let out a breath, remembering the creepiest aspect of this telepath:  He had no eyes, and yet had followed her as confidently as anyone with perfect sight.  “One thing about the Carnora, they’re not subtle. I have the feeling they got a hold of the strongest telepath they could find to let me know we’d been caught red-handed.  As for the language the Betazoid was speaking, it was some Carnora language our Universal Translators had never encountered, just to drive the point home.”  She looked back at Carmichael.   “In short, it seems Lieutenant Ra’yral was telling Ensign Charatetet to consider the coaxial drive as secret as their Spirit Crystal Array.”

Carmichael nodded slightly,  “I hope Reepchip listens to Ryramorl.  He’s got a few holoprograms of his people’s ships.  I never thought I’d see mechanical computers on a starship.  I’d hate to see what would happen if they tried this for themselves.”

“I never thought I’d see warp-capable ships that relied on spin to generate gravity, but that’s why Carnora warp signals look like a corkscrew.”

Clancy didn’t say it, but the technology the Spirit Crystal Array matched nothing the Carnora developed.  It did, however, match the technology of that mysterious Citadel in the Arnor Mountains.

Commander Mayla Vree

Ambassador Worf's diplomatic suite

Spacedock, Earth

Stardate 2104.29

The suite had the same layout as her's, but that was where the similarities ended. This suite had a completely different color palette, decor, and furniture that was more suited for a Klingon. There were decorative replicas of various suits of old Klingon armor, with similarly created weapons adorning the walls. The furniture wasn't meant to be comfortable, just the way Klingons liked. Even the lighting was different, dimmed and a reddish glow. Then she noticed another blaring difference. The panoramic window had a similar expansive view as her suite, but outside showed they were in orbit above Qo'nos, not Earth. The window had overlayed a generated image of Qo'nos in place of Earth but kept everything else accurate to reality. And for all intents and purposes, it looked completely real. The suite was made up to feel as if they were at the inhabitant's native home world.

In no time at all, the three were seated at the main dining table filling up with food from the replicator. Luckily, to Mayla's slight surprise, the conversation never got to where she feared. Over the meal with dishes from Earth, Bajor, Andoria, and Klingon food for Kraven, she told Worf the story of her first time on DS9. She was about eight years old when she first met first Jadzia Dax on the upper level of the Promenade. She was with her later adopted father while watching the Bajoran wormhole open and close and making girlish wishes. Jadzia had offered her a jumja on a stick to break the ice between them. It worked. The next day, she spent the day frolicking with her in the mud ponds near the Trill capital city in one of Quark's holosuites while Kyril worked. It was with Jadzia's help that began her rehabilitation from her post traumatic experience at Purgatory.

Worf's hasperat stopped half way to his mouth and looked at Kraven, and then to her. "Are you referring to the Cardassian forced labor camp at Toltani V? Bajoran insurgents were kept there back during the Cardassian occupation." He said in a slow deep voice.

She nodded. "My biological parents and I were on a transport to Trill during the War. Our ship had stumbled upon a clandestine Cardassian surveillance mission and we were all taken to Toltani V as prisoners of war. The Cardassians tortured the crew first, then the passengers. My parents died under torture. They kept the children at a different location from the camp to keep the prisoners under control." She put down her hasperat next to her bowl of stew as images flashed through her mind. It was a long time ago, and the younger version of herself was nearly an entire different person. She had gained almost a millennia of years of memories and experiences since then. But she still felt the darkness of trauma creep in. She remembered that particular event vividly.

Kraven's face turned hard and his hand still holding his uneaten squirming gagh balled into a fist. "Those spoonheaded petaQ gave no mercy to anyone who was captured; civilian or military. They only saw them as prisoners of the Dominion." He growled. "They refused medical aid to many who they deemed too sick to warrant it. All were left to die in their beds without any dignity or honor." His voice was loud and angry now.

Mayla looked from Kraven to Worf, who looked back at her and explained. "Kraven was captured during a ground skirmish on Benzite when the Dominion invaded. He and his aides were all taken to Toltani V. They forced him to watch as his aides and other Klingons were tortured to death."

"Did you escape? Or did you have to wait until the War ended to be freed?" Mayla asked Kraven hesitantly. For most people, talking about their imprisonment during wartime was usually difficult. But this was a Klingon; proud warriors who often boasted about overcoming an enemy under any dire circumstances. Especially under dire circumstances.

"I was rescued, along with over a hundred others in a bold extraction raid by an unknown group in the night. I talked with other rescued prisoners on the transport, they said commandos infiltrated the camp to create a diversion that caused infighting among the Cardassians and Jem'hadar. I remember someone had woken me from my sleep before the diversion began. He identified himself as Starfleet, gave me a phaser and instructions for extraction. But when the fighting started, it was a cloaked Klingon ship that landed inside the camp and we boarded as many prisoners as we could. At the time, I didn't see any children make it on board." He looked at her with surprise.

A tear rolled down Mayla's face as she played back the horrible memory of events in her head. "All of the children were held on the station in orbit-Dartak Nor. They were all rescued...on a different ship." She couldn't tell them that all they were beamed aboard the USS Intruder. Her thoughts turned to that Bravo Epsilon Seven rescue mission that so happened to rescue her too.

The Klingon general eyed her, seeing a weakness in her for the first time ever since meeting her on the Rotarran II just a short few months ago. He saw in her eyes the same fearful, demoralizing, and haunting traumatized look the other children had whenever they were brought down to the camp for the daily visit. But her eyes only spoke for a fleeting moment. It was a very different look when she was on the bridge of the Rotarran.

"You were one of the children," he said as a comment, not a question.

"I was," she said quietly. She wiped away her tears with a clean napkin. Then she inwardly frowned at the memory that it was one Lieutenant (jg) Daryl Thompson who handed Kraven that phaser. "And you were the Klingon Task Force Commander on the list of high value individuals to be rescued from that forsaken place."

Silence instantly stilled the room as the two Klingons were taken by surprise at that revelation. It suddenly, and most certainly, bonded them instead of comrades in arms, but as former prisoners of the Dominion. Worf himself had also been a prisoner of the Dominion with the Cardassian tailor Garak from Deep Space Nine. They had managed to escape with the real General Martok to reveal the changeling who had taken his place. A year later, Worf had only heard stories about a rescue operation at Toltani V that brought back Admirals Alynna Nechayev and Edward Jellico. They had also been taken prisoner when Benzite fell to the Dominion. He never knew any of the exact details of the operation as it was classified.

But for Kraven, during his imprisonment he had heard a rumor circulating that a Starfleet admiral was also captured during that invasion of Benzite, and was held at the same camp. After he was rescued, he tried to inquire and research as to who his rescuers were but could only find the name of the Klingon transport involved in the mission. There was no mention of Starfleet's involvement, nor the presence of any Starfleet admiral on the transport. But now with Mayla's simple statement, it revealed she now knew something of the mission and maybe what can almost be a confirmation of Starfleet's involvement.

The silence continued circling the room for another minute, like the thoughts in everyone's minds, taking each one of them back to their own difficult memories of imprisonment. Kraven felt for the first time since that day that he now knew for certain it was Starfleet who had saved him. He owed Starfleet his life, specifically that team who saved him and over a hundred others. And more specifically that man who gave up his own phaser to arm him. It still mattered today just as much as it did back then to know who saved his life, even if it was twenty years ago. He owed them a life debt, whomever they were. A Klingon dying in a prison without battle is a dishonorable death, and would not be allowed entry into Sto'Vo'Kor. He now looked at the young Trill woman with new eyes and couldn't help but to feel an affinity with her who endured the same atrocities he had while imprisoned at that particular labor camp. There was a reason the Bajorans called it Purgatory.

A few days after their rescue, it was reported that the entire camp was completely vaporized along with all of its inhabitants; prisoners and guards alike. The fiery crater that was left was meant to be a demonstration for all those allies who would consider betraying the Dominion. They would all have died at that camp anyway even if they weren't rescued. The Cardassians nor Dominion cared not for any of them.

"War hath no boundaries for death, suffering, or participants; willing or unwilling." Mayla said as a finality of their shared experience despite their age differences.

Worf looked at Mayla with sympathy for her to have gone through an experience like that at such a young age. Her last comment spoke of a soldier's-no, a warrior's wisdom beyond her years. Then he looked at his friend Kraven, who had been Martok's trusted friend from even before the War. It was through Martok the two had met and became friends. The three of them now had a shared experience, a different type of comradeship; Kraven and this young Trill in particular. He could sense in the two the commonly shared pain of helplessness and the frustration of it, both in their own way.

The Federation Ambassador to Qo'nos got up from his chair and went over to his suitcases still stacked beside the door. He then selected one, opened it, and pulled out two bottles labeled vintage 2309.

"We will have bloodwine with our meal."

*ISS Gambit*

Orbiting Earth, phase cloaked

Stardate 2104.29

Two men in black armor dragged a barely conscious Daryl Thompson down a corridor at a brisk pace. Thompson managed to look around, and for a moment it looked like he was aboard the *Resurrection*. But something was different...something didn’t seem right.

The door ahead of them slid open and Daryl recognized it as the captain’s ready room on Resurrection, only once he cleared the doorway he could see it was not the *Resurrection*. The soldiers dragged him over toward a big, obsidian desk at one side of the room and held him up while a figure seated behind the desk sat facing away from Daryl.

“Target retrieved, captain,” one of the soldiers said. “There was a great deal of resistance. Several members of the team perished.”

The figure in the chair slowly turned until they were facing Daryl Thompson. He looked up wearily, still recovering from being stunned, and saw what could only be a ghost.

“Kane...Taryn Kane?” he muttered. An attractive woman sat there, in a uniform similar to Starfleet, but darker and adorned with an emblem that appeared to be the Earth with a sword thrust straight down through it. She was older than Daryl remember...her raven black hair showing streaks of white, but nonetheless it was her.

“CAPTAIN Kane,” she corrected him, glaring. She then looked to the soldiers. “Is the commander back aboard?”

“He was supposed to beam back behind us,” the soldier said. The door slid open behind them and another person entered.

Daryl turned his head and gasped as he saw Jahkar walk in, dressed similarly to Kane, his usually long hair shaved on both sides leaving him with a long Viking-style cut which hung down his back in a braided tail. The half-Romulan/Klingon looked sideways at Daryl and glared, giving Thompson a good look at his scarred face and the eyepatch covering the socket where his left eye had once been.

When he came before Kane, he snapped to attention and gave a one-arm salute, his hand raised high.

“Lt. Commander Jahkar,” Kane said. “Report.”

“The commander just beamed back. He is heading here,” Jahakr said. “I’ve ordered *Gambit* to jump back to our universe, as you ordered.”

“Excellent,” she said. “For the commander’s sake I hope this man was worth the price we paid in lives today.”

The door slid open again and a man dressed in a long black cloak, hood pulled up over his head, strode in and repeated the salute Jahkar had just given.

“Seven dead and the loss of a tactical drone,” Kane said with disgust. “But, we have this Thompson you were so insistent we come here for. Tell me, Commander Durham, are you happy?”

The man lowered his hood and revealed his face. It was Greg Durham, the same Greg Durham Daryl had seen on Vulcan.

“G-Greg?” he stammered.

Durham nodded, “Yes, captain. I’m very happy. Good to see you again, old friend.”

Commander Mayla Vree

Ambassador Worf's suite, Earth Spacedock

Stardate 2104.29

She was saved.

An image of the *Resurrection* appeared in her eye lenses, indicating an incoming call over the subvocal.

"*Resurrection* to Commander Vree," she gladly heard over her subvocal. "We've had an incident and require you to beam over to the ship immediately. We are in orbit and are awaiting security clearance from Spacedock Command to beam you out directly from your location."

"Acknowledged. Contact me over normal comms for cover." She pushed away her goblet of bloodwine just as her communicator chirped.

"Commander Vree, you are needed at your post."

She tapped her comm badge. "Acknowledged. On my way."

The two other Klingons looked at her with slightly drunk smiles. Well, drunk enough for a Klingon. "Don't say you have to leave now."

Mayla got up and checked her footing. It had been nearly six hours since she walked in the door, and four of those was spent drinking bloodwine and sharing stories about Jadzia, Martok, and the War. Although each one of them tried to tell a funny story, in the end it nearly always ended with tragedy, sadness, or glory. There are rarely happy endings in war.

"I apologize Ambassador, but duty calls. It has been a great honor to share a meal with you, Ambassador." Then she glanced over to Kraven. "And General."

Kraven gave her a nod of respect, knowing fully well what her duty posting was. "I hope to share bloodwine with you again." He lifted his goblet to her.

"It is also my hope too. Take care gentlemen. May your battles forge rivers of your enemy's blood."

Worf gave out a belly laugh. "Such an ancient quote!"

She made a beeline to the door before they could stop her. In a few minutes, she was back in her quarters. She went over to the replicator and ordered a tea to counteract the effects of the bloodwine. With a cup in one hand and her duffel bag in the other, she contacted the *Resurrection*.

"Vree to *Resurrection*, I'm ready to beam over."

"We received authorization. Standby."

"Beam me directly to the Captain's ready room."

"Aye. Energizing."

Mayla appeared in Lazarus' office on the *Resurrection*. She placed her bag in a corner and sauntered over to his desk, with her cup still in her hand which she nearly spilled.

"What's wrong with you?" Lazarus asked her as she slowly sat down into one of the guest chairs. There were some lines of weariness in her face. She looked tired. He's never seen her look tired before.

"Bloodwine, for the past four hours."

Lazarus did a double take. "You? You don't drink."

"Can't refuse it when it was so offered by Ambassador Worf." Mayla said.

Lazarus leaned back in his chair. "Worf? Formerly of the *Enterprise*?"

"The very same. Remember General Kraven from the *Rotarran II*? Well, he was with Worf at Spacedock. And we found out he and I were at Purgatory at the same time. And both rescued on the same mission. Kraven was the Klingon commander on the HVI list to be extracted."

"I see." Lazarus said, thinking back to that mission that brought Mayla to become part of the Vree family. "That must have been some reunion, of sorts."

Mayla just shrugged. "We are both grateful to be alive. Kraven has been looking for those directly responsible for his rescue for a long time, but never found out exactly who. All he suspected was that it was Starfleet."

"How did he even suspect that?"

"It's water under the bridge now. It was Thompson who identified himself as Starfleet before arming Kraven before the diversionary attack." She got up to the replicator and got a refill of her tea.

"And speaking of Thompson." Lazarus took a deep breath and gave her an update on all that's happened with the team.

Mayla continued to sip her tea as she listened. "Why is Daryl so...kidnappable?" She realized her speech hasn't fully recovered yet from the bloodwine. "Any leads as to who and where they took him?"

Captain Quentin Lazarus

*USS Resurrection*

Stardate 2104.29

Mayla had a point. Out of the entire team, Thompson was ALWAYS being kidnapped, going back to the early days of Shadow Ops. He made a mental note to have him take some special training in evading capture...assuming he returned from this whole mess.

Lazarus made a face, a grumpy face combined with some frustration. “My first thought is the Greg Durham double he saw following him on Vulcan and while we were at the starbase. I have a theory.”

“I’m sure I’m not going to like it because I know where this is leading,” Mayla shook her head.

“When he mentioned the Durham double my thoughts were the Terran Empire...alternate universe,” said Lazarus. “We should check with McCulloch and Beckett and see if there are prisoners, bodies or equipment left behind by the attackers. They will have the same quantum signature previous Mirror Universe inhabitants have exhibited.”

“If there are prisoners or bodies, they should have doubles in this universe,” Vree added.

“Check with them and see if anything was left behind, before Starfleet scoops it all up,” he said. “I assume Starfleet Security is on its way there, if they aren’t already there."

Colonel Jahkar

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith

Runabout *Harmony*

Stardate 2104.29

Jahkar was asleep in one of the bunks built into a bulkhead in the aft compartment of the runabout when he became aware of someone standing over him. He opened one eye and saw Tiri standing over him, her face fraught with emotion, as she paced about nervously.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Tiri jumped, surprised he was awake. She collected herself and squatted down so she wasn’t hovering above the Marine. He looked at her, becoming concerned something might be wrong.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice troubled. “No…nothing is wrong…but…you…you’ve barely said anything to me on the trip home.”

Jahkar sat up and stretched, checking the time on a console next to his sleep nook. They’d reach Earth in less than an hour. “Sorry, I guess I’ve been a little pre-occupied.”

Tiri looked away, finally sitting down beside his bunk and slumping back against the nook, “Did Kedanya say anything to you about our…talks? Or about the night we got drunk?”

“You mean wasted?” he chuckled. “She has said a little.”

Tiri’s head slumped forward toward the deck. “I’m…so embarrassed, sir. I’m so sorry.”

Jahkar swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and he placed a hand on Tiri’s shoulder. “It’s OK. Don’t be embarrassed. And right now, you don’t have to call me sir. It’s Jahkar. Missions you can say sir or colonel.”

Tiri smirked, “Right. So, you probably think I’m ridiculous.”

“I’m flattered,” he said. “Kedanya said you liked me. Honestly, Tiri, I like you too.”

Her head snapped around toward the Marine and she was grinning ear-to-ear. “Y-you do? I didn’t think you did. I’ve felt stupid.”

“Don’t feel stupid,” he told her. “I feel stupid. I would like there to be more between us, I really do. I just…can’t.”

Tiri’s white haired head fell back against the bunk, “Because we serve together and you’re my superior officer?”

“That’s part of it,” he said. “That’s probably the part we could work around. It’s the age difference, Tiri. I’m old enough to…”

The Andorian threw her arms in the air, “I know! Old enough to be my dad. Kedanya said you’d say that, and the ranking officer thing too.”

“I’m speaking facts, Tiri,” he said. “People will talk. Cradle robber. May/December relationship. Dirty old man.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who cares what other people think,” she said, looking over at him. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but we got along great on this trip. We have a lot in common, you laugh at my jokes, I laugh at your dad sense of humor.”

Jahkar smirked, “I don’t deny that. Do you really want to be the subject of gossip and innuendo?”

“I don’t care,” she persisted. “Let them talk.”

Jahkar sighed, “Let’s just take it slow. If this turns into something, then so be it. But I just want to be friends right now.”

Tiri looked at him for a long moment, then leaned over and brought her face close to his, “Good friends?”

She looked into her eyes and had to keep himself from melting, “Good…friends.”

They kissed, just briefly, then Tiri stood up and headed back toward the forward compartment, “Earth in 15 minutes. Time to rise and shine, buddy.”

Jahkar laughed, “Aye, aye. I’ll be right there.”

A few minutes later, the runabout dropped out of warp and Jahkar and Tiri were at the controls. Less than a minute after emerging from warp, they were receiving a transmission from the *Resurrection*.

Commander Mayla Vree

Lazarus' office, *USS Resurrection* above Earth

Stardate 2104.29

"I'm going down there. Permission to assemble an away team?" Mayla immediately got up and put her cup back into the replicator.

"Take whoever you need, just not McGuire. Lieutenant Stone is on site and in command."

"Got it. Send me whatever statements you already have on what happened. I'm going to do some investigating." She left the office and headed to the armory all the while opening personnel files in her eyes to select a medical personnel. To her surprise, Victoria Smith was just beamed on board. "Commander Smith, report to the transporter room immediately."

Mayla didn't wait for a response as she ran into the Armory and just strapped on her combat belt that held her two thigh strapped holster weapons and a few other items before heading out the door. Once in the transporter room, Smith was already there waiting for her still with her medkit and bloodstained uniform. Smith didn't even notice the Trill was armed.

"Hello, Victoria," she acknowledged and handed over to her a personal cloak, just like the one on her own belt.  She looked at the transport chief. "Transport us down to the location of the incident."

They immediately beamed down to Ipswich, Massachusetts, just as Lani reported to Mayla that there were several approaching craft with Starfleet Security written all over it. They materialized on the back patio where Lieutenant Stone was waiting for them.

Stone gave her a half salute with his half artificial left arm. "Captain Lazarus informed me you were coming down. What do we need to do?"

"We have to take the bodies back to the Resurrection immediately before Starfleet Security gets here and forces us to withdraw from the site. Commander Smith will take tissue and DNA samples from them first. Do it quickly. You have seven minutes before Starfleet Security gets here." Mayla didn't look at Smith until now, and noticed she was distracted. "Commander, did you hear what I said?"

Smith looked at her with a blank stare. Then she blinked and refocused her attention. "Yes, take tissue and DNA samples and take the bodies back to the ship. Seven minutes."

"Are you alright?" Mayla asked.

Stone led them to two of the bodies on the lawn just beyond the patio. "I'm fine," she said. "We'll discuss it later."

Mayla put it out of her mind as Smith got to work. She looked out to the treeline where it was reported the attack came from but talked with Stone. "Are these the only two bodies you found?"

"Yes. We're still looking for others. If there are any others."

"Even if there are, I don't think we'll have time to find them. An assault like this is going to create quite a stir at Federation Security too. They're going to want to talk to everyone here." Then she quickly addressed Smith. "Commander Smith, I want you to go back to the ship with the bodies here, let's avoid interaction with Starfleet Security. Let Stone handle that. When you get back to the ship, I want you to tell the doctor to isolate the quantum signature of the DNA. And then to report his findings directly to the Captain only. Is that understood?"

"Aye," was all Smith said as she got to work.

Stone came to stand beside her looking in the same direction of the treeline. "We found a drone outside one of the windows. Disabled."

"Show me."

He led her to outside the living room bay window. Laying on the ground was something she recognized as a tactical drone. It's design looked so familiar she had to be sure. She picked it up and then looked again to the treeline and the woods beyond it.

"You going to have a look?" Stone asked.

"I think I should, before we lose access to the site. Gather everything else the attackers used, weapons, drones, grenade pieces, whatever you can before Security gets here. I'm going for a walk." With that she activated her personal cloak and stealthily moved away from the house in a run.

In her eye lenses was a map and the pinpoints of reported activity where the attack occurred. Within a minute, she was already inside the treeline with her tricorder scanning and feeding readings directly to her eyes. She was impressed by the accurate recounting of the attack by Robert Pickering. Exactly where he said the mortars were launched from, there she saw the blast marks on the ground. But no launcher. She carefully began to circle the area, making bigger and bigger concentric circles to look for anything that was left behind by the attackers.

At one point, she stopped at a fallen tree stump and deactivated her cloak. She placed the drone on the stump and studied it all around. It had taken a hit with an energy blast, blackened the side of the drone. Her tricorder wasn't reading any energy signatures coming from it. The design looked so familiar it was beginning to alarm her. As if she had intimate knowledge of it, she turned over to the rear and opened a panel. Inside she didn't expect to see it designed the same way as she'd seen before. She immediately identified the energy source and disconnected it, before yanking it out from the unit. She shook her head at her familiarity with it before putting it into her pocket. Closing the panel and lifting it back under her arm, she reactivated her cloak. She continued her sweep as she moved from one waypoint to the next, still in circles.

It took her nearly an hour to completely sweep the area. With the clues she did find, she called the *Resurrection* to beam her back, and into Lazarus' office. When she materialized, she placed the drone in the chair. "There's your proof."

"What is it?"

"It's a drone, predecessor to our nanoprobes."

"This was at the site?"

"Blasting its way into a living room bay window until Thompson took it out, according to an eyewitness." She nodded as she downloaded her tricorder data into his terminal so it can be displayed on a three-dimensional map of the area. The tricorder picked up residual transporter signals, weapons discharge, and where this drone was found. The residue map showed the remnants of what was used during the attack.

From her pocket she took out the energy cell for the drone and placed it on his desk. "The rudimentary design of the drone was Kyril's, when Bravo Squad was in the mirror universe. When they fought for the Terran Resistance. When they left, the Romulans had just joined the Resistance and they were then calling themselves the Terran Confederation."

Lazarus stared at the drone, and then the energy cell. "Get a quantum signature scan of it, so we can have overwhelming evidence we know who we're dealing with." His voice dropped to an angry tone. "I want to find out who the hell thinks they are to kidnap one of our people in a brazen daylight attack."

Commander Victoria Smith and Commander Mayla Vree

*USS Resurrection*, Earth

Stardate 2104.29

Victoria couldn’t unsee the image in her mind of the blade sticking out of her ex-husband’s chest. She shuddered quietly to herself as she looked down on the living room floor and saw the wide pine boards stained with Will’s blood.

After the medical team took custody of McCulloch, she wandered about the Starfleet facility for about an hour...her clothes smeared in his blood. Alone, she kept asking if there was anything she could have done differently over the past decade or even the past two months to reconcile with the Scot.

Even worse, she wondered if the same emotions she was feeling was what consumed William McCulloch years earlier when he betrayed the Federation. At the time, she had been brutally injured by a group of terrorists. In response, Will turned to a paramilitary organization known as “The Black Watch” to avenge his bride.

Now, Victoria Smith resisted every urge to contact Mayla and ask her to assign three of her best operatives to find the b#stard who sunk a blade into McCulloch’s chest. Eventually one of Union 12’s warrant officers found the distraught Commander Smith, led her back to a staff lounge and quietly helped her clean up. The entire time Victoria just shook and sobbed. The female warrant officer tried her best to console her but it was an exercise in futility.

Shortly thereafter, Victoria arrived on board the Resurrection...only to be ordered into action by the woman she considered the closest thing to a family outside of her parents. When Mayla and Victoria arrived back at the Pickering residence, the combat nurse was overwhelmed with emotion.

On the one hand she wanted to take the operative’s knife she found in McCulloch’s chest and drive it through his heart. How dare he come back into her life and destroy what she had worked so hard for? Yet on the other hand, this was the man she had been married to for almost a decade, who had risked his life on multiple occasions to ensure she was safe and doted over every one of her needs.

She quickly went through the procedure of collecting the DNA samples for Mayla, she quietly took a moment of her time to study the battlefield and listen intently as Robert Pickering recounted the firefight again to Lieutenant Stone.

Children! William McCulloch and his companions fought tooth and nail to protect the Pickering children!  Wasn’t that evidence enough that her husband had redeemed himself?

Victoria did her best to complete the tasks at hand just as Starfleet Security arrived in three shuttles. Once finished, she immediately called the Resurrection to beam her and the two bodies out immediately before they were seen. Once on board, she put them into stasis and gave the samples to the Resurrection's doctor while informing him what Mayla wanted done.

Now with nothing to do, she changed out of her bloodied uniform and made her way to the infirmary. She sat down behind a vacant desk and waited for instructions. The entire time she simply shook in her chair as she envisioned a black knife handle sitting above her husband’s...ex husband’s... chest.

Two hours later Commander Mayla Vree entered the medical bay looking for Commander Smith. As she looked around the room she saw Victoria nodding off behind a desk. Oddly she was clutching her medical kit close to her body.

The Trill quietly approached Victoria and rested her hand on the nurse’s shoulder. After a moment of stirring, Victoria shot up in her seat, desperately grabbed her medical kit and looked wide-eyed around the room. Mayla instinctively put her hands up to show she meant no harm and then tried to calm Victoria down.

“How...how long have I been asleep for?” Victoria asked.

“I honestly don’t know.” Mayla asked as she eyed the medical case the nurse was clutching.

Victoria looked suspiciously about and quietly whimpered before leaning towards the Trill.

“I’ve done terrible things Mayla.” The nurse announced as she choked back on her tears.

“What? Victoria, what are you talking about?”

“I had a pair of security officers from the Attenborough rough Will up and I assaulted him before Sorvek’s funeral. I sent a video to you of that poptart that vomited all over his dress uniform. I’ve spent the last few weeks tormenting him and sending messages and orders telling him I was coming to Umbra Prime and to stay out of my way. He was lying on that living room floor earlier and I twisted the knife in his chest before I treated him. What have I done, Mayla? Are those the last actions I might remember Will by?”

Vree remained silent as she watched Victoria sob uncontrollably. Eventually her eyes shifted to the medical case the nurse was desperately clutching.

“What’s in the case Victoria?” She asked calmly as McCulloch’s ex-wife simply shook her head in the negative.

“I don’t know if I want you to see what I have.”

“Victoria, if you have something that could help our investigation into what happened with Will and Daryl Thompson, I need to know about it.”

Victoria began to sob uncontrollably as Mayla sat down and put her arm around her After a brief moment of hesitation, Victoria opened up her medical kit and withdrew two items: the blood-stained knife that was retrieved from McCulloch’s chest and a padd.

Vree retrieved both of the items and put them aside as she continued to console Victoria.

After several moments of silence, Mayla finally asked “What’s on the padd Victoria?”

Victoria gasped for air and began to sob again. After several attempts to calm her down, Mayla finally convinced her family member to share the information that was contained on the padd.

“What was Operation River Hawk?” Victoria asked as she tried to calm herself down.

“River Hawk?” I have no idea what you are talking about.” Mayla replied.

“I found the padd in Will’s jacket as I was treating him. It contained four missions Will completed after he was released from prison. One was for Taryn Kane, the other three appear to be freelance jobs.”

Mayla studied Victoria momentarily. “Go on.”

“Operation River Hawk describes a mission he completed for Taryn Kane. Will saved thirty children from an Orion Syndicate sex trafficking ring.”

“What?” Mayla asked as she took the padd from Victoria and studied the contents of the report obtained from Daryl Thompson the previous evening. She looked up in surprise at Victoria after she realized the hacked document was authentic.

“No sooner was he out of prison and he was trying to redeem himself and I had already  turned my back on him.”

“Victoria, Will dug his own hole…” Vree noted in protest before Victoria cut him off.

“Starfleet destroyed the records of Operation River Hawk Mayla!” She hissed. “What else have they hidden about William McCulloch?”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Victoria softly sighed and started to cry yet again. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at Mayla…the closest person she had to family.

“Take me to my husband.” She begged repeatedly before leaning into Vree. She buried her head into the Trill’s shoulder and started to sob uncontrollably. “Please Mayla. You’re like a sister to me, please take me to my husband. I want to see William!”

Mayla patted her back and held her friend tighter. "Very well. I need to check in on him anyway. But you have to pull yourself together and be strong. Whatever Will has done, it's done. Nothing can change that. Everything he does in the here and now will be a measure of the changed man he wants to be. I am going to believe in that, because if anyone wanted Will dead, believe me when I say he would have been dead a long time ago." She said sternly, reminding Smith subtly that Black Watch had nearly killed her godmother, and the rest of Bravo Squad under his orders.

"What about what I have done to him?" She pushed out through her feelings. "All these years wasted. They can never be redeemed."

Mayla frowned. "My friend, time is like that. You either move with it or be left behind. But most of all, time is a teacher. It teaches us how to deal with our decisions and regrets thereof. Look into yourself and find what you've learned and put them to good use. Not sitting here wallowing what's already been done and can never be changed."

"I've been unfair to him." She said, now leaning entirely on Mayla for comfort.

"Square yourself against that thought and decide what you want, and what you want to do." Mayla softly said, stroking her hair. She placed her cheek against Victoria's head. "You'll be okay."

Victoria continued to sob softly while the strong arms held her the same way they did a very long time ago on their trip home on public transports. At one transfer point, she had wandered too far from the spaceport and was assaulted by a group of men. She was hooded and carried away before she was able to scream loud enough. But no one came to her aid. It not only was a bad neighborhood, it was a bad city on a lawless planet where there were only survivors. She overheard them talking about selling her after getting her addicted to their homebrewed narcotics. But wanted to have their way with her before she became an addict. Something about an untainted female. It was one of the most terrifying moments amongst all others she's encountered in her life.

Then Mayla came to her rescue, tracked to her location through her implanted isolinear tag. A whirling dervish of death from a single katana sliced its way to her without stopping until a small hand gripped her own. Mayla had only spoken three simple words to her, and it charged her to act. She held onto the hand desperately and got up, suddenly alert and angry at her own stupidity of getting herself into this predicament. On their way out, she saw at least two dozen bodies that were left behind. Mayla showed no remorse, no sympathy, no pity. And no quarter. When they got back safely and finally boarded their transport, Mayla held her this same way while the adrenaline and fear caused Victoria to shake uncontrollably. She had never been so reliant on the 14-year-old before.

After a few minutes of sobbing, Mayla said those words again and Victoria had forgotten how much they meant to her on more than one occasion during that long and arduous trip home. Three simple words that spoke of moving beyond the now, the present, to act and take one step at a time. A step forward. Then another step. And another step. Mayla gave her a squeeze.

"Time to go."

Special Forces Agent Rygaran D’Hronarin in the Danro Mountains

Lieutenant First Elder Name Ryramorl La’an Ra’yral

Ambassador Holder Ryramorl Yarman Delta Ra’yral

Ensign Reepchip Charatetet

Ee’an Ra’yral

Spacedock

Stardate 2104.30

As their meal together concluded, Rygaran asked if Ryramorl was heading back to the Long Hunt, and Ryramorl said he was.

“And I shall go with him,” stated Ee’an.

Rygaran eyed Ee’an and noticed the unconvinced looks on his parents’ face.  “I shall test your knowledge before you join your father on this hunt,” he said.  He pulled out a phaser, and set it on the table.  “Without touching it, tell me all the settings of a phaser and how to get them.”

Ee’an looked at the strange device, silent.

After some awkward seconds, Rygaran put it away.  He then set out a PADD.  “Use this to display a map of the four quadrants, and highlight the Antevas System.”

More awkward silence.

Rygaran took the PADD, and brought up a picture of several aliens who were posing in front of Starfleet Academy.  “Identify all species in this photograph, starting from left to right.”

Ee’an was able to identify the humans, but mistook the Vulcan for a Romulan, and was completely lost on the others.

“I set before you three extremely simple tests, ones you must pass with ease before you can even think of going on a Long Hunt like your father’s.  Holder Ee’an, I admire your courage, but you are far from ready.”

Ee’an growled in frustration, clearly wanting to be near his father.

Holder Ryramorl Yarman Delta spoke up.  “If it pleases the La’an, I could use an aide and bodyguard.  Will you permit your son to serve in this capacity?  He shall be stationed on Earth, where you can visit easily when you may.”

“I could also remain on Earth, if I am allowed,” said Ry’ala’ara.

“I don’t see why Holder Ryramorl La’an wouldn’t,”said Ryramorl.  “And it would give him valuable insight into our ally.”

Ee’an nodded glumly, embarrassed by his ignorance and how his foolishness had been so easily exposed.

Ryramorl nuzzled his son. “Cheer up. The pit you dashed into isn’t deep, and you haven’t started digging yet.”

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