Captains Log:

Having successfully handed over DaiMon Talr to another vessel we are heading back into our patrol area.  Whilst we aren’t on the doorstep of Klingon space, we must remain ever vigilant of any attempt by their forces to penetrate deeper into Romulan territory.  Since the collapse of the Romulan Empire as one solid and unified entity; this sector has remained largely forgotten and abandoned.  We therefore cannot rule out the possibility of a House making a bold move and sweeping in to seize control unopposed. 

We are not here to engage; our duty is to observe and warn of impending threats.

However it is not all gloom and dark shadows on the horizon, sometimes as part of my duty as Captain I get to do nice rewarding tasks to.  That includes handing out well deserved promotions. 

End Log.

            **********

Lieutenant Devron had just placed the PADD down he’d been dictating his log entry into, when someone buzzed his door.  Jason hated ‘Logs’ but realised they were a necessary part of life as an officer aboard ship, even if he did try to put them off until the last minute. “Enter.” He called out.

The door to his quarters slid open and in stepped his half Orion, half Human First Officer.  She took a quick glance round; noting that even after all this time; there still wasn’t much in the way of personal items in the room.  They’d first met at the Academy on Melstoxx III.  Back then she’d discovered he could be both out going and extremely private at the same time.  There was however two photos sat on the captain’s desk which stood out.  Neither had been there the last time Lyanna had been in the room with had been a few days before Jason’s birthday. On the left was a photo of the late Rear Admiral George Devron; the captains’ grandfather and just as big a mystery.  

Jason had never mentioned him or spoke much about any of his family. Then one day out of the blue, here was this guy.  You only had to look to tell they were related, it was that chin and those remarkable eyes.  The universe can be so cruel sometimes, and she knew the Admiral’s death had almost brought Dervon’s career to a halt, if not ended it completely.  Only a desperate need to search for answers and the unwavering support of the doctor had kept him on track.

Doctor Phoebe Andrianakis was alongside him in the photo on the right.  There was something between those two, even if they hadn’t entirely figured it out for themselves.  But that photo seemed to mean enough to be on display. 

“I take it you have the box?” He questioned, bringing his First Officer back into the moment. She waved the small black box at him in way of reply. “Time to go then.”

He stood up and the pair of them exited his quarters.  As always despite it being at the opposite end of the ship; Jason always preferred conducting any important business in the aft observation lounge.  For one thing his quarters weren’t that practical due to its small size.  Other captain’s probably had bigger beds that his quarters!  And the ‘Jax’ wasn’t that big, so it was only a short walk. 

Once Devron arrived at the lounge, he remained standing, although with one arm resting across the backrest of the chair he’d normally be seated at.  Stuart stood behind and to his right, now holding the box behind her back.

A couple of minutes past before the person they were both waiting for came to the door and awaited permission to enter.  Crewman Derek Lightwood came to attention and saluted his two commanding officers.  He was unsure as to why he’d been asked to come here, but the hint of a smile on the Captains face seemed to indicate all was well.

“Crewman Lightwood, on two separate occasions you have shown great skill and ingenuity under challenging and difficult circumstances.  Both times have resulting in saving the lives of senior staff, including those of acting Chief Engineer Torf and my First Officer here.” Devron’s hand briefly swept in Stuart’s direction.  “It is in recognition of these acts and you unwavering dedication to this ship and its crew that I am pleased to promote you to the rank of Petty Officer.”  

Lightwood stood stock still, a little taken a back; he’d just seen it as doing his job and doing it well.  It was clear though, that others had felt he’d gone beyond that. “Thank you sir.” He finally got out.

“Number one, will you do the honours?” Asked the Captain stepping just a little to the side.

Lieutenant Stuart took four paces forward, bringing the small box from behind her back as she did so.  She opened the lid, revealing the shiny black pip inside.  Removing the rank insignia and placing the now empty box on the table, she carefully attached the pip to the collar of the now Petty Officer Lightwood’s black and gold uniform.  As Lyanna did so you congratulated him and offered her thanks.

After she’d stepped back the three of them saluted once more. “Your dismissed Petty Officer Lightwood.” Devron announced. “I believe your fellow crewmates may wish to celebrate your promotion.  So of you go.” 

“Thank you Sir.” Beamed Lightwood, things slowly beginning to sinking in. “I won’t let you down Captain.”  The turned and half matched half ran from the lounge.

“Bright kid that.” Remarked Stuart.

“Commander Salan really knew how to pick a crew.” Added Devron. “I only wish he could have been here to see how we’d all developed.”

“Do you think he’s still alive?” The Orion asked.

“I’d like to think they were all kidnapped for a reason.” Devron replied. “And one day I hope we’ll find them and the answers to that mystery.”  

It had been a difficult task jumping into the Commanders shoes.  Losing all three of the ships most senior crew during one fateful mission had certainly been a shock to the system. He wasn’t sure of another ship facing a situation quite like it.  But they’d all pulled together despite all the challenges the universe was intent on throwing in their direction.

Stuart could see that look on her captain and friends face; that faraway look he got sometimes when he was thinking.  A polite cough brought him back into the real world.  He gave a small smile and tapped her arm. “Yes I know.  Day dreaming won’t get anything done.” 

The two officers headed off towards the bridge chatting about the ship and the general situation they now faced.

He was in the thick of the battle; weaving this way and that, climbing one second then diving the next.  Banking to port before rolling sharply to starboard.  Frantically trying to avoid incoming weapons fire whilst making sure to maintaining visual and sensor contact with the fighter craft in front.

Lieutenant Max Beaufort at the controls of his Valkyrie Mark II had already faced the Dominion once during this war, but that had been a relatively small battle as the Federation had fought to retake Atracos III and free the few thousand colonists that called the place home.  That had seemed so simple compared to the utter chaos unfolding all around him in the Deneb sector.

Another sharp turn brought him on a strafing run of a Jem’Hadar fighter; the ship in question had taken multiple hit from a Rhode Island and the first four fighters in the Sun Downer Squadron.  A pair of quantum torpedoes had just slammed into the side of the enemy vessel adding to the horrendous damage inflicted.  It was a wonder anyone was still alive on that thing, let alone actually firing back at them!

His own devastating fire and that of Echo Lima 5 ahead, only added to the catastrophic damage being caused to the Jem’Hadar fighter.  Finally its weapons feel silent and the twisted hulk ripped itself apart.  The process continued as the squadron moved on to engage another target.  By the time they attacked their fourth enemy ship; three of their number, were gone.  Two he had no idea how or when they’d been killed, for the other her voice had screamed out across the comm-link before her Valkyrie had slammed into a cruiser.  The Dominion cruiser shrugged the impact off, hardly noticing it had occurred.  It wasn’t long after that when his own ship was severely damaged; Beaufort’s Valkyrie had been too close to a vessel when it meet its own fiery end, he was right in the blast zone as the much larger vessel blew apart.  A large chunk of superstructure had hit the front of his ship, crushing the nose section.

Max didn’t feel the pain or know what had happened beyond that moment.  The sudden jarring impact had knocked him unconscious.  But somewhere amongst the mangled mess of his fighter he’d lost his right leg.  Would have lost much more than that; if it hadn’t been for the courage of a Raven Class Corvette and her crew coming to his rescue.

Max had suffered this nightmare on numerus occasions; the vivid recollection of events playing out in his mind, then total darkness.  There had been times he’d wished that this darkness had enveloped him forever. He sat bolt upright sweating profusely, breathing heavy and gasping for air. One hand automatically making a grab for his leg; the leg he knew deep down was no longer there.  A temporary prosthetic one now lay in its place. Temporary, because on board this ship right now; a new leg was been grown for him.  His hand gripped the prosthetic a little too tightly, not that the leg could feel it.  The only pain came from the hand squeezing hard.  He hated the totally unreal artificial abomination.  It was attached, but didn’t belong to him, this was someone else’s leg this was some, thing.  Though for now he couldn’t get around without it.  It just reminded him too much of the Borg; they liked substituting body parts, augmenting what was there or replacing it altogether.

He’d confronted the Borg only recently here on the USS Chapel, but not the Borg everyone knew and feared.  No, they’d turned the world upside down and turned the people you knew and trusted the person next to you; turned them into monsters.  Made them kill their own friends and colleagues in a mad quest to create a new Collective; with the Federation at its heart.

Death had looked him in the eye that day, and all he’d had to do was wait for it to claim him.  Instead he’d run; well hopped actually, with one good leg and a pair of crutches.  He was probably deemed too low a priority target to go chasing after at the time, but that didn’t stop him trying to escape.  

Beaufort had seen a lot of death and destruction in a very short space of time.  The knowledge, training, combat drills; none of it really ever prepared you for the real horrors a war threw at you.  Nothing could, he like countless others had discovered that the hard way.

After a few minutes his heart beat had settled to something closer to normal; still Max knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, at least not right now.  So swinging his one real and one artificial leg round he got out of bed and replicated himself a glass of cold water.  Up to this point he hadn’t bothered with the lights, the darkness hardly bothered him, it wasn’t as if the room was pitch black; the glow of space and streaking stars created by the ship at warp, offered some light as it came in through the window.

He took a quick shower; partly to wash away the sweat and partly to clear his head.  For the most part it worked; but it could never wash away the memories.  Max had been given counselling, all the survivors had, and even the ships own counsellors had been given some, from others that had been brought aboard from Earth.  He wasn’t sure if talking to a complete stranger about the events at Deneb and Frontier Day afterwards actually helped him.  Getting a real fully functioning leg and strapping himself into the cockpit of a fighter craft and launching; that was what was going to help him. Of cause these meetings where one of the hurdles between him and his goal of returning to full active service.

For the time being he was one of four officers cleared to operate the helm.  On Frontier Day he’d been the only one in any fit state to fly the ship once the Borg influence had been neutralised.  For the first couple of days he’d had to work from a hastily set up control system on deck 3.  Max chose not to dwell on the fact it had taken that long to clean up the mess on the bridge; or that when he was able to enter it, the two sections of carpeting that had been crudely cut out and disposed of.

The bridge though didn’t hold the same sort of fear and trepidation, deck 17 did. That was the location of the ward; were he’d woken up and witnessed a world gone mad.  There Max had seen people die with his own eyes.  He couldn’t say watching a star ship being pounded and ripping to pieces, knowing that potentially hundreds of lives had been stuffed out in an instant; didn’t affect him.  But seeing someone being strangled to death and others having their heads smashed in had made a huge impact.  His other nightmare was seeing them die horribly.  The face of the Efrosian doctor still haunted him; but unlike in real life, sometimes the doctor spoke to him.  Asking to be saved and why him.  No, death was far easier to handle from a distance when it didn’t have a face or name.

Dressed in a mid-grey tracksuits, baring the Sun Downers name and logo across the back; Lieutenant Beaufort went for a walk around the ship.  He had no fixed or planned route, Max never did; he just wondered around almost aimlessly.  This early in the morning there wouldn’t be many crewmembers around either, which suited him fine.  There was one place he’d always end up at though, no matter where his journey had took him; Bio Med Lab 2.

That was where his new leg was slowly been grown.  Today it was just after half seven when he got there.  The nurse on duty greeted him with her usual warm smile; she usually took the early shift at the Lab and was therefore the one most likely to see him there. “You know keep coming to look at it won’t make the leg grow any faster.” She informed Max warmly.

“Now you know very well nurse Hayashi, I only come here to see your smile and sparkling brown eyes.” Max relied with a smile of his own.

“There green, which just shows how much attention you do pay me.” She corrected him.

Beaufort knew very well what colour Hayashi’s eyes were, he just loved teasing her.  They got on well with each other and had even shared a couple of after-shift drinks together.  She made him feel human on the day’s he wasn’t sure what he was; and being one of the new intake of staff the USS Chapel had received, she wasn’t tarnished by the memory of the Borg.

Max looked through the window to the sterile room beyond.  A lab technician in pale blue coveralls and face mask was checking over the machine linked up to the tank with Beaufort’s new leg in it.  There wasn’t much to see in the tank; the milky green liquid within virtually concealed the limb contained within it, other than a slight shadow floating in the centre. 

In eight weeks’ time he’d be having the operation with would; fingers crossed, successfully attach the leg and after that several weeks of physiotherapy; to build up the muscle strength.  It was still a long road, but Max was determined to get to the end of that journey.

“You free after four?” He asked the nurse casually.

“Such a charmer.” Hayashi smiled back. “I think I can squeeze in a drink with a gallant officer.”

Beaufort walked back to the door and as it slid open, gave her a bow. “Until we meet again madam.” Then left as he headed back to his quarters, to put on a fresh uniform and start another shift on the bridge.

Having any sort of romantic relationship on a vessel the size of a Raven; wasn’t easy.  Between them they made up a tenth of the ship’s crew complement and a third of the bridge staff.  Somehow Ensign’s Harris and Cho had made it work, were making it work.  It hadn’t affected their ability to do their jobs, so the captain was happy to let it continue even whilst on a mission, and everyone else seemed to have got used them being together.

Chad’s parents knew rather a lot about what had been going on.  How he’d met the young Korean Communications Officer on his first day aboard the USS Jaxartes.  The interests they’d discovered each other shared, and how chatting together casually had developed into something more.  Chad had told them about how she’d been attacked and a Changeling had taken her place.  That part had been hard to grasp, but the stories of this happening all throughout Starfleet had slowly leek out and become public knowledge; forcing official conformation regarding a lot of what had gone on before and during Frontier Day.  He’d spoke to them about being apart whilst she was recovering from her injuries and how that had made them both more determined to make it work.

Cho hadn’t been so forthcoming when it came to communicating with her own family, despite that being her roll aboard ship and something she was generally skilled at.  Born on a rural farming colony, Gwangju Saeloun; life for her there was simple, harking back to times long gone. Her Grandparents had helped get the whole project off the round, and it was they, who ran the colony.  So when she’d set her sights on joining the Academy roughly five years ago; it had come as rather a shock to the family.  They’d flatly said ‘no’ to any of her wild and fanciful dreams.  Cho’s life was planned out, at least in her parents and grandparents mind.  Who she’d marry; out of the young eligible farmers within the community and her roll on the family farm.  

She’d brought much shame to the family by running off, as she’d done.  They’d never understood the drive for adventure that had made her want to leave in the first place; despite it being that very drive that had took them and a few dozen other families to an alien world.  Cho suspected to, that it had been her mother who’d reported her as being kidnapped.  It had nearly got the freighter captain and his crew arrested and Cho sent back on the next available ship.  For the first two years of Academy life, she never contacted them once; cutting herself off from the family completely.  It had been tough, but she’d thrown herself into her studies and strove to be one of the best linguistics experts in her class.

Cho sent them messages from time to time after that, had spoken with her father twice via video link; once from the Academy at Christmas not long before she’d been told of her first assignment on the ‘Jax’ and again after her recovery on Starbase Bravo.  At no point had she ever mentioned the danger she’d faced or how close to death she’d been.  No, she’d kept much of what had happened, a secret from them.  As for Chad; despite her telling him otherwise, they knew nothing about the man from New Zealand.  One mention he was white would have their hands flung up in the air and their faces aghast; that was an indication of how far they’d fallen into long abandoned traditions.   As for telling them his place of birth!  It wasn’t like everyone living in New Zealand was a dangerous criminal or some made scientist bent on world destruction.  But it’s what her family would think, she could guarantee it.  Like the duck in the meal she was sharing, on the water they looked so calm on the surface; but below the water line it was all frantic kicking.  That was basically her life, frantic kicking.

She tried to imagine their reaction had she fallen in love with one of the many none human races she’d encountered.  Take the ships Caitian Science Officer; he could be rather sweet, if just a little shy at times.  Introducing him as her boyfriend and the family would be having kittens!

Cho half coughed then choked at the joke she’d accidently made, swallowing a mouth full of tea, rather than spit it out across the table and into the lap of her companion opposite.  She tried to smile and reassure Chad as she saw the look of concern on the young man’s face.  My ‘pretty boy’ she thought to herself.  The phrase had first been used by Navaar Orci; an Orion pirate who’d attempted to steal the USS Jaxartes and sell the crew into slavery.  But despite that, when Cho said it, it made the New Zealanders heart lift; because he knew she meant it.       

Chad gripped one of her hands lightly, in that way he always did when they sat together.  It said; ‘I nearly lost you once, I’m not doing that again.’ It comforted her and made her feel safe.  She’d have to tell him one day she’d ran away from home, he’d asked not long ago about seeing her family.  For now though, Cho was doing her best to put him off the subject.  Why spoil what they had together, just because her family couldn’t understand and support her wishes. 

It was not long after that when the two of them noticed a disenable change in the ships course and speed.  Despite being off duty the pair of them instinctively reached to tap their comm-badges; Cho got to hers first.

            **********

Ensign C’Rren turned from the console he was sitting at. “Captain, Ensign Cho wishes to know if everything is ok.” 

Lieutenant Devron tilted his head slightly in the direction of the Caitian Science Office. “Please inform her that everything is under control and not to worry.”

“Are you sure?” Was the next query routed via C’Rren, who was a little embarrassed to be asking the question.

“Quite sure tell Ensign Cho.”  Jason couldn’t help smile. There she was enjoying a drink and a bite to eat with her boyfriend; after completing a long shift and she was still willing to run right back to the bridge, if that’s what he asked of her. No, let them spend a few moments together and relax, for these opportunities may be in short supply if things turned sour. 

Not three minutes ago a Romulan freighter had reported something odd on its scanners.  Their equipment was a lot less sophisticated than those of the ‘Jax’ and even the corvette’s weren’t the most powerful available.  But whether the Romulan captain was paranoid, his scanner was faulty or this was something genuine; the man felt his freighter was being flowed by a cloaked vessel, it could be Klingon in.

Though if he was being shadowed by a ship that was cloaked, surely he shouldn’t have a clue about it?  Not with his scanners. So what did that mean, was someone playing games, where they heading into a trap?

“ETA 27 minutes and 15 seconds.” Called out Lieutenant  Stuart. “We Have a Republic Valdore responding to the same distress call.  It should arrive 6 minutes after us.”

Well just over 27 minutes to find out!

Commander Charlie Lyambo didn’t like it one bit.  For a start off he’d been woken early; that was never a good thing to do, not without just cause that is.  Charlie was not a morning person, never had been.  So being contacted by the bridge just after seven in the morning had not put the Captain of the USS Chapel in a good mood.  The reason for being dragged out of bed, at such an early time, for him at least, was a problem with their escort.

The USS Chapel was on a mission to deal with an outbreak of Terellion Fever on Kappa-Terellion IV.  Despite it being were the disease had originated and how it got the name; there had not been a single case of it on the planet for 17 years.  Now there were 78 reported cases, with one fatality.  Normally that wouldn’t be a huge concern; a hospital ship like the Chapel could deal with a small outbreak like this within a week or so.  Preventing the disease from spreading further amongst the population; and creating a much worse situation. 

But with the news that the Marquis or at least a group using the name had made a resurgence along the Cardasssian boarder, which just so happened to be were Kappa-Terellion IV was; situated within the demilitarised zone; had meant he’d requested an escort, just to be on the safe side.  That escort had been pulled away on another emergency.  He couldn’t afford to wait however long it was going to take for the other ship to return; things on that planet could escalate rapidly if he didn’t take quick action.  The USS Chapel was therefore heading in system alone.  

The Bolian currently seated at helm; informed the Commander they’d reach the planet in a little over half an hour.  Lyambo sat back in the captain’s chair still holding the mug of coffee he’d brought with him roughly an hour ago.  There was barely a mouthful left, so he swallowed it and headed over to the replicator at the rear of the bridge.

There had been a number of vessels moving around when they’d arrived; nothing special or out of the ordinary.  They ranged from small transit shuttles, right up to an immense bulk carrier loading at the main space station orbiting the planet.  It had the look and charm of a rusty metal slug; there’d probably been paint on its hull many years ago, but that had all flaked off over the eight decades it had probably been in service.  Now it was just rust and running repairs.  If it survived to reach a hundred it would be a miracle.  But somehow Charlie couldn’t entirely rule that out.

He was just about to pick up his fresh mug of coffee when is attention was brought to two ships on the main viewer. “Sir, vessels changing cause to intercept our current heading.” The Bolian called out.

Lyambo looked over to his Communications Office. “Delany, see if you can raise either of those ships. See what their playing at?”

After trying several times on all available frequencies without response the Commander was starting to feel a little agitated.  The actions of these two ships one a small freighter the other a civilian equivalent to a Runabout, were acting rather suspiciously and given the recent events, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Go to red alert.” He shouted.

The lights flashed red and the warning siren blared.  Various crew members around the bridge called out. One informed him the shields were up and the phasers were charging.  Another gave a running update as each section of the ship reported their readiness.  A third informed him that security team had been deployed to key areas of the ship along with damage control parties.

Considering the short amount of time most of this crew had been aboard, Lyambo was pleased with the swiftness in which they’d all reacted.  A minute or so passed as the distance between the vessels reduced. Then is Communications Officer reported an incoming audio transmission. “On speaker.” He requested.

“Oh you do disappoint me.” Came an unknown female voice. “All I want is a few of your medical supplies. I’m sure a hospital ship of your size has plenty to spare?” 

“Who are you?” Demanded Lyambo.

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you know lies.” Answered the woman. “Now lower your shields or I will lower them for you.”  As she finished speaking, the smaller of the two craft opened fire across the USS Chapel’s bow. 

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re playing at, but this is a Federation vessel on a mercy mission.” Charlie announced. “So back off and let us do our job.” 

            ********** 

In another part of the ship only a few minutes before the alarm had sounded; the Commanders brother and current Chief Engineer aboard the USS Chapel had just woken up.  He gave a half-hearted stretch as he trying to fathom what had disturbed his slumber.  A second prod in the rib, from the woman he was currently sharing his bed with, was all he needed to remind him of what had gone on the night before.

“The Commander isn’t going to mind what we’ve done is he?” She asked softly. 

“I wouldn’t think so.” Dinari replied. “It’s not like you’re directly under me.”

“It feels like it right now.” She giggled.

Dinari looked at the position they’d both woken up in, and when their eyes met, the pair of them started laughing.  He rolled on to his back to lay parallel with the woman. Not an easy task, due to the width of the bed; it hadn’t really been designed for two people to occupy it at the same time.  The engineers head felt a bit foggy for some reason, but he assumed that was due to that last drink they shared being one too many. 

It was as they lay there that the red alert sounded.  Both sprang up out of the bed grabbing their respective comm-badges; his over on the desk, hers on the floor under her uniform.

“This is Dinari, what’s the situation?” The Chief Engineer listened to the reply before continuing. “Ok you know the drill; I’ll be there in five.” He swiftly gathered his clothes and started putting them on, whilst on the other side of the room the woman he was with had her own conversation.  “Jenas issue all security trained crewmembers with phasers and get them deployed in pairs following pattern 3.  Got that? I’ll be right with you.” 

When she turned Dinari was almost fully dressed. He gave her a quick peck on her ridged nose. “Take care.” 

She smiled back. “I’m a Bajoran, we know how to handle ourselves.  We’ve had practice.”  She started putting on her security uniform.

            ********** 

When Dinari arrived at Main Engineering, the claxons had ceased their wailing and it was just the reds light flashing away.  The scene before him looked a little chaotic; but he was pleased to see it was an organised chaos.  Everyone seemed to know what they were doing. “I could have stayed in bed!” He called out.  There were a couple of light hearted responses from the other engineers.

“I know the feeling.” Came the gruff gravelly voice of his Tellarite assistant Jamda Goref.  Considering how young he was; Jamda already had the speech and attitude of a grumpy old man.  He probably wasn’t a morning person either.  What he was though, was a brilliant engineer.

Lyambo was at the central island working away at the controls, when something flashed up on a monitor.  A voice called out. “Sir, shields just deactivated!” He looked up to see who’d shouted and then back down at the console where he stood. 

“Confirmed.” Goref announced. “Level 1 command override.”

There were currently only three people aboard the USS Chapel capable of entering a command like that.  Two of them where currently on the bridge; his brother and the First Officer.  Dinari was the third.  A sense of movement behind him and the faint noise of a hand held phaser coming up to charge, both told him something was very wrong. 

“Sir, if you’d like to step away from those controls.”

The two unidentified vessel had kept just out of range of the phasers carried by the USS Chapel.  As weaponry they weren’t much, but they’d still be capable of causing plenty of damage to the freighter in it ventured to near.  The runabout was another matter.  It had been modified to fight and could take a fair amount of punishment; but for now it was holding back, as if waiting for something to happen.

A minute or two later it did happen.  Without warning the shields of the USS Chapel dropped.  If the crew of the hospital ship hadn’t been on edge prior to that moment they certainly were now. “What the blazes just happened?”  Yell the Commander, jumping up out his seat and looking for someone with answers.

“Level 1 Command Override.” Was the response he got. “I can’t reactivate the shields.”

“Whose code was it?” Was his second question.

The reply was hesitant, not a good think in a dangerous situation like the one they now faced. “Chief Engineer Lyambo, Sir!”

To hear his own brother was potentially responsible for jeopardising the safety of the ship and her crew, was rather a massive shock.  He had only on cause of action though.  Tapping the comm-link on his chair, he gave his instructions.  “Security, detain Chief Engineer Lyambo.”

The shield hadn’t been down more than a few seconds before the Runabout came racing in.  Its target was clearly the Chapel defensive phasers.  There was an exchange of fire, and despite its speed and agility, the small craft received a couple of hits before it put the hospital ships weaponry out of action.  With the phasers safely neutralised the freighter then moved to within transporter range. 

“Transporter activity detected in Cargo Bay 4.”

            **********

Ensign Jenna Isaura was the ships Bajoran Security Chief, a roll she’d found herself thrust into after the disaster of Frontier Day.  She’d been the most junior member of the team up until that point.  Two had died that day, neither having being influenced by the Borg, unlike her.  The final guy had committed suicide the following month; unable to cope with what he’d done.

She was standing in Cargo Bay 4; alone, despite insisting to her assistant Jenas that everyone pair up.  Isaura had just witnessed several palettes of medical equipment and supplies get beamed off the ship, leaving a large gap on the floor.  A second equally large pile was removed just as efficiently just over a minute later. 

The Bajoran moved across to a third pile of supplies; correctly anticipating this would be the next thing to be collected by the transporter.  Isaura was whisked away, along with everything within arm’s reach.  Seconds later the USS Chapel’s shields came back online, preventing the removal of anything else.

            ********** 

It was moments before the second load of cargo was stolen that another signal appeared on the USS Chapel’s scanners.  It had appeared almost from nowhere having used the huge mass of Kappa-Terellion VI; the systems only gas giant to mask its approach until the last possible moment.  It was the Bolian who alerted everyone else to this latest twist in proceedings.   “Cardassian Keldon Class cruiser baring 080 mark 047; closing fast.”

There wasn’t any time to react or take any form of evasive action, it was upon them so swiftly and cast a huge dark shadow across the hospital ships upper hull as it raced past dangerously close.  The Keldon cruiser fired what could have been a phased polaron beam; which basically sliced the small freighter in half.  The Chapel didn’t carry sophisticated enough equipment to confirm. But it was clearly an extremely powerful weapon.   The Cardassian vessel was away and targeting the Runabout as it used aft phasers to finish of what remained on the freighter.  Beams fired, the Runabout dodged; once, twice, the third time it ceased to exist.  It a bright flash and fleeting ball of expanding gases and ripped atoms, it was gone.   

By the time the Cardassian’s had swung back round; the USS Chapel had her shields up.  But if that ship was using a phased polaron beam and chose to target them to; they wouldn’t have much longer to live.

“Incoming transmission from the Cruiser.” Announced Delany on communications.

“On screen.”

The face of a middle-aged but fairly fit looking Cardassian appeared on the main view screen. “I am Gul Damas of Militia Two Three.” There was an attempt at a smile from a man that clearly rarely ever smiled. “Glad I could help you deal with those Marquis before they stripped you of your cargo.”

“Who said they were Marquis?” Asked Lyambo flatly.

“Oh, come now captain. Don’t be so naive.” The Gul replied. “Who else would be so bold and foolhardy to attack a Federation vessel in this sector?”

“Did you have to murder them all?” Shouted the Commander angrily. 

Damas learned forward. “Is this the thanks and courtesy I get for saving you?” He scoffed. “Well it’s no skin off my back. As I believe you humans say.  Damas out.”

The image changed to the Keldon Class vessel as it turned and raced away. 

            **********

It was roughly four hours after the incident that Commander Charlie Lyambo called a meeting of all senior staff; which included his younger brother, who by this point had been cleared of any charges. But was far from happy; after discovering the potential truth. 

The first issue they had faced was the fact there had been no outbreak of Terellion Fever on the planet, meaning the whole thing had been a hoax to lure them here.  But as to who had sent the original message, they didn’t have an answer.  The same people had most likely arranged something to drag their escort away.

So what did they know about their attackers?  The small freighter was rather a common design; you could find them just about anywhere you looked.  So tracking down its owners and anything else, would be next to impossible.  The civilian style Runabout had been heavy modified; it were never really meant to carry weaponry, yet its designers and manufacturers had built them in such a way that weapons could be easily added.  Had it survived they may have been able to gather enough information to know its history. 

There was a bit of a debate amongst the senior staff as to whether they had been Marquis or not.  Their Commanding Officer felt certain they weren’t.  To him the whole situation didn’t feel right.  It just wasn’t what the old or new Marquis would do, in his opinion.  Yes stealing wasn’t beyond them, but a hospital ship!  It was like they were asking the Federation to side with the Cardassian’s and help round them all up.

Then there was that cruiser, with near perfect timing.  Was it just complete chance, did they know what was about to happen.  Had the Cardassian’s planned the whole thing from start to finish? They’d been ruthlessly thorough in destroying all the evidence to prove or disprove that notion. 

Having had more time to study the dater; it was confirmed the Keldon was carrying a single phased polaron beam, which had been fired at between 50 and 60 percent power.  It was impossible to ascertain if that was the maximum they could manager, or knew anything higher would have been a pointless waste of energy. 

Then finally there was Ensign Jenna Isaura; she was the sticking point of the whole argument.  It was clear from test that she had drugged Dinari, so as to obtain his security codes.  She’d been the one to drop the shields and allow cargo to be removed.  Charlie had been handed a full inventory of everything taken.  It had all been destroyed and Isaura no doubt killed when she’d beamed off with the last load.

Isaura was a sticking point, because she was a Bajoran, and surely a Bajoran would never opt to work with the Cardassian’s; willingly or otherwise?

When the Commander finally closed the meeting, he asked his brother and Lieutenant Beaufort to stay behind.  He started with the Lieutenant. “As one of this ships few ranking officers, I’m going to ask you to step into the role of Chief Security Officer.” Charlie paused just long enough to gauge Max’s expression. “Jenas is smart and a quick learner, but just like the other two I have left. He’s only been on the ship five minutes.” 

“Are you sure about this, Sir?” Beaufort replied. “I’m a fighter pilot at heart and have been covering a few shifts on Helm. But running security?”

“I know it’s a bit of a leap. But I’ve seen the records of your combat skills, both armed and unarmed.” The Commander informed him. “If today has told use anything.  It’s that we need to prepare for anything. I’d like you to be one of those that helps us prepare.” 

“I’m hesitant, partly due to the slight mobility issues.” Max tapped his fake leg. “But I promise to give this job my all.”  He saluted, probably the only one left on board that ever did, turned and left the room.

Once the lieutenant had left, Charlie turned to his brother.  “I don’t know about you but I could do with a stiff drink.  Today has not been a good one.” 

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Dinari tried to smile, but it was hard.  He’d been tricked, betrayed and drugged.  All because he loved the ladies.

Six day’s and four anomalies reported; that’s what it had been like for the crew of the USS Jaxartes.  Each time a Romulan freighter would send out a distress call after picking up something on their scanner’s that appeared to be shadowing them.  The Raven class corvette had responded to all of them; three times the same Republic Valdore had arrived on the scene, one of those times a good twenty minutes before they had.  The other occasion it had been a D’deridex answering the alarm.  The once mighty warship was starting to show her age and this particular vessel was no longer able to pass warp 6.5.  Even now though; a lot of other ships would still avoid tangling with this veteran of the long gone Empire.

So what was going on?  Ships in other sectors had reported on Klingon activity, usually aimed at which ever Romulan faction just happened to be in their way.  Here thought it was different; someone was toying with them.  Testing out the response times of both this ship and those of the Romulans’.   Those freighters should never have known they were being followed.  Any half decent Bird of Prey could have ripped them to shreds and been gone before help arrived.   So the big question was why weren’t they?

Lieutenant Devron slapped the palm of his hand down on the armrest of his Captain’s chair; he was tired and frustrated by the whole situation, and he knew the rest of the crew weren’t faring any better.

“So how long before we get the next panicky message that has us on another wild Utoxa chase?” Enquired Tholakath; noting the irritation on the face of his commanding officer.

“Three minutes and forty-seven seconds.” Announced Doctor Andrianakis; walking on to the bridge.  “This should give me just enough time to check how you all are.” She waved a Medical Tricorder and moved towards Ensign C’Rren.

“That’s a very precise answer doctor.” The Caitian mused.

“Just a guess, like anyone of you here could make.” She replied. “Well you check out ok.  I know you need less than others, but make sure you do get some sleep.” The Science Officer acknowledge with a nod as the doctor moved over to Ensign Cho on communications.

“How are you?” She asked calmly; running the Tricorder over the young Korean. “You look a little fatigued.  I can see in in your eyes.”

“I’ll be ok.” Answered Cho, hesitantly; half looking past the doctor and her Captain.

“Never mind him.” Retorted Andrianakis. “If you have any medical issues or problems, you tell me. Ok?”

“The doctor is right.” Added Devron.  “You have all been giving 110%, not just lately but throughout our short time working together.  So if our ability to function starts to look compromised, I won’t hesitate to pull us out.  Understand?”

The rest of the bridge crew acknowledged the statement.  They were all glad their Captain was as much concerned about their health and well-being as the doctor was.  These were tense times, and the all knew how stretched the resources of the Federation were getting.

Andrianakis moved on to Lieutenant Stuart and checked her over, before moving across Tholakath; who as usual was causing problems for the doctors’ equipment.  As the doctor had once bluntly put it, the young Cardassian appeared as relaxed as a comatose Vulcan, even under the most stressful; of situations.  He had a way of holding it all back until he could find an outlet for all his emotions.   That outlet, aboard the ‘Jax’ at least; tended to be the holo-suite.  He had various simulated enemies to fight both armed and unarmed.  It did however make spotting the early signs of any problems that much harder.  So she hoped he’d be smart enough to tell her anything, rather than leave it until it could be too late.  Finally she walked over to the Captain and conducted a scan of his vitals.

Ensign Cho abruptly broke the near stillness of the situation.  “Picking up a distress call from a pair of Romulan ore carriers.”

“Let them know we’re on our way Ensign.” Devron requested. “Number one lay in an intercept course maximum Warp.”

“Course laid in, ready to engage.” Lieutenant Stuart announced just a few seconds later.

“Hit it.” Devron commanded.

The stars before them changed from multiple point of light to long streak’s whizzing past on all sides, as the corvette jumped to warp.  “Three minutes and forty-seven seconds.” Muttered Lyanna to herself under her breath. “How the heck did she get that right?”

The doctor knew very well why she’d been so accurate, or at least was starting to suspect something.  It wasn’t the first time she’d predicted an event at near impossible odds; and recently it had started to happen more often.  It both fascinated and scared her to death in equal measure, and it was all felt somehow connected to those dreams.  She hadn’t had one since that weird incident back on Earth, in France, were a guy called Flint had tried to kill her.  He was dead; killed in the most bizarre and unexplainable way possible.  As if her dream world was just as real as any other, and Andrianakis had took him there to die. What was the connection between her, a father she’d never known and this place she’d dreamed of? 

Phoebe had thought about contacting a psychiatrist or counsellor on several occasions.  But they’d only tell her she was stark raving mad and put her in a small padded room.  At least that’s what Andrianakis felt they’d do to her.  She didn’t feel crazy; at least not that crazy.  The touch of Jason’s had on hers, made Phoebe realise she’d been standing by him nearly a minute, as the Medical Tricorder did its work and flashed up the details.

“You ok?” He mouthed silently; giving her had a gentle squeeze.

Oh, she wanted to jump into his arms and cry her heart out, telling him everything.  Jason knew more than anyone else as it was, so filling in the blanks for him wouldn’t take much, and she knew he’d somehow understand.  He always understood, even when things didn’t make sense to her.  Instead though; Phoebe nodded, giving a weak attempt at a smile as she did so and left the Bridge. 

            **********

Roughly fifty minutes later; the universe stopped flashing past, as the USS Jaxartes dropped out of Warp; fairly close to the two Romulan vessels.  Like most other ships around, they made a Raven look small and just a little insignificant.  But for Jason Devron and his crew, they were used to that. 

Both Ensigns Tholakath and C’Rren begun their scans of the surrounding area of space, each using their different skills in an effort to spot any trace of a cloaked ship.  They analysed the data transmitted from the Romulan’s and compared it with everything they’d already collected.

“Well I can confirm this was Tango 2.” The Tactical Officer announced.  It at been established that there were two cloaked ships at work.  Subtle, yet recurring differences had been noted, and each of the vessels appeared to be taking it in turns, whilst operating just far enough apart to warrant a jump back and forth along the shipping routes.

One major change this time round though was the absence of any Romulan warship joining the search.  Had this been part of the plan?  Wondered Devron; set them off on a series of wild goose chases, or Utoxa as the ships Tactical Officer had put it; which apparently was a water fowl native to Cardassia with long turquoise feathers, dark blue underbelly and webbed feet.

The carriers’ commanding officers both seemed friendly enough.  There had been a mix of reactions to their presence each time they’d responded to a distress call; ranging from the cordial and welcoming, to one who’d been downright rude and obnoxious.  Still, the ‘Jax’ was here to do a job, whether everyone liked it or not. 

Lieutenant Devron asked them about their cargo; apparently though, both ships were currently empty and heading to pick up another load. They wouldn’t reach their destination for another three days.  After reassuring them that whatever had been following them had gone, or at least appeared to have; he broke the connection.   He’d certainly hate to be wrong though.

“Ensign Tholakath, transfer your long range displace to the main screen if you would.” Devron asked.  An image of space appeared before them.  Stars, planets, gas clouds everything within range.  Markers representing the known locations of each vessel appeared also, along with names or numbers to identify them.  One ship caught his attention.  “Where is that vessel heading? Grid zero four dash three seven.”

It took a while for the Cardassian to find any information, and what he did have wasn’t a whole lot. “Ty Shyla laeosa catoena.” Tholakath’s Romulan was far from perfect, so he was glad when a translation popped up a moment later. “It’s a research establishment.” 

“Any idea what they are researching?” Enquired the Captain.  

“No, I don’t have that information, but up until four days ago that Republic Valdore, the Mrei Hvei’khenn had been on guard duty, orbiting the planet.”

Jason studied the map.  Each encounter had dragged that warship further and further away from that planet, the D’deridex was closer, but she was old and slow.  “Ensign Cho, warn that establishment they may be in imminent danger from Klingon attack, and get hold of all Romulan warships in range.” The Communications Officer responded and went into action.  “Lay in a course to that planet, number one and engage the second you have it. Maximum Warp”

The stars turned to streaks, as once more the USS Jaxartes went racing off into unknown danger; for this time Jason Devron felt he’d figured out the Klingons plans.

Just under nine hours it had taken them; nine hours for the USS Jaxartes to reach the seemingly small and unimportant research establishment called Ty Shyla; situated on an equally insignificant planet that hadn’t even warranted getting its own name, not on either Romulan or Federation star charts at least.  So if there really was nothing remarkable or special about this place; why had a Valdore class warship been assigned to protect it, and why to had it needed the large powerful, heavy automated defence platform that orbited the planet?

The platform had been designed to take on a fleet, single handed; and it was clear from the damage that this had clearly happened.  Or had it?  There was something wrong with the whole scene of total destruction that lay out before them. 

“Tholakath, C’Rren, give me a full analyse of that space station and tell me what you think?”  Devron asked the two ensigns. “Check for any life signs.”

He was glad of the travel time, which had allowed time for the crew to rest; even he’d managed a couple of hours sleep, a chance to shower and eat a decent meal.  But Devron was far from happy that they’d apparently arrived too late to help, or witness first-hand what had happened. 

His original hunch had proved correct; a large proportion of the damage had been caused internally, as if someone had managed to get on-board and had planted explosive devices throughout key areas of the station. 

“That vessel we picked up heading here, how big was it?”  The captain enquired.

“Standard fleet type currier.” Replied his Tactical Officer. 

“And how many well-armed Klingon warriors could you pack into a vessel like that?” Devron asked.

“I’d estimate 36, 40 at a push.” Tholakath surmised. “Are you suggested a small force gained access to the station using the currier and attacked it from the inside?”  The Cardassian was silently impressed; with odds of in the region of 12 to 1 against, a group of Klingon warriors had made their way from the landing bay and rampaged through the platform, killing and destroying as they went.  How many had survived long enough to be beamed off when the rest of their forces had arrived to finish the job?  Whatever the case; not a single life sign could currently be detected anywhere within the shattered remains. 

Focus now switched to the planet and whatever was down on its surface.  The planet CC2203-87 was an M class, but only barely.  A fraction smaller than earth; there was a roughly equal land and ocean.  Of the land 70% of that consisted of one huge, near desolate continent.  Where the water and land met, there was a band of lush tropical rainforest; further in scrubland and savanna.  But at the continents heart, lay an immense barren desert.  It was at the centre of this empty desert that the research complex was situated. 

If Jason was going to pick anywhere to build something on this planet, it certainly wouldn’t be there. “Thoughts?” He question was aimed mainly at his Science Officer.

The Caitian studied the buildings, which consisted of three domes in a semi-circle and a long two story structure off to one side.  Further analysis revealed a network of subterranean passageways linking the four buildings, along with other sections of the complex which were entirely underground.  Like the space station in orbit, these building showed signs of damage; not one of the building had escaped unscathed and there were indications that sections underground had collapsed also.

“This whole place looks wrong, if I’m honest, Captain.” C’Rren finally announced, before going over some of the data on his screen a third time. 

“Reminds me of a prison complex; rather than a research site.” Mused Tholakath. “We’ve built enough in our time.”  He was referring to his own race and how they had treated their own people and those they’d conquered.  Yes, to him this made a perfect location for a prison.  It didn’t need to bother with walls, fencing or guard towers.  Where was anyone going to run?  It would take at least a month to cross that desert, and no one was surviving its harsh conditions more than a day or two.

This place had been a secret, or at least its true purpose may have been.  Had the Klingons merely stumbled across it, or hand they discovered what was going on here.  Had they come to rescue their fellow warriors to join the impending fight? 

Jason wanted answers and assumed he wouldn’t have a lot of time to get them. “How long before any Romulan forces get here?”

“One hour, ten minutes.” His Tactical Officer informed him. 

Devron looked towards Lieutenant Stuart. “Number one I want you to head down to that facility and see what information you can gather.  Take whoever you want.”

“How long have I got?” She asked pointing at both Tholakath and Cho to follow her. 

“I want to be clear of this place twenty minutes before that Valdore arrives.  Just in case you find anything we’re not supposed to know!”  The last part was shouted, the three bridge crew already past the door. 

“Are we heading into trouble?” Ensign Cho asked jogging up alongside the First Office.

“Aren’t we always?” Stuart smiled back.

            ********** 

Under ten minutes later, six figures materialised in what they hoped was the main control centre.  Lieutenant Stuart snapped into action the second their bodies finished coalescing.  “Cho, Tyson, check these computers and see if you can retrieve any data from them or the main computer if it’s operational.   Tholakath, take Appleby and search the main building opposite.  You’ll need to go across on the surface, but these a nice big hole to walk through!” Then she turned to the last member of the way team. “N’Quith you’ve drawn the short straw.  Follow me.”

The three pairs split off and set about gathering what information they could in the short time available to them.

The control centre had been wreaked, by energy weapons fire; the bodies of two Romulans lay on the floor, both male, one clearly having been shot due to the large scorch mark on his chest, whilst the other had been dispatched by the sharp blade of a Bat’leth.  Neither of the Starfleet personnel dwelled on the sight to long.  Tyson set about stripping out various components from the dozen consuls in the hope of cobbling together a working one; time was a major factor, so he working quickly, with the help of Cho, who passed him tool when required. 

The air was hot and stifling outside; even for a Cardassian, who was more used to oppressive temperatures such as these.  On the other had Crewman Appleby couldn’t stand it; and was sweating like mad and coughing his lungs out, by the time they reached the other building.   Tholakath let him rest and recover a moment, before they continued their investigation. 

As the two of them clambered over rubble and past twisted metal doors, they noticed bodies, a mix of Romulan and Reman, the later in full combat gear; all were dead.  Through another set of door, blown open by explosives, they found three Klingons; not dressed as warriors ready for a fight, no, these Klingons where dressed in simple coveralls.  But these prisoners hand not been executed at the hands of their captors whilst trying to escape; they along with another eighteen found throughout the building had all been killed by other Klingons.

The Cardassian Tactical Officer was puzzled.  This building could have held 300 prisoners easy; so why only 21, why only 15 guards, and finally why had they been murdered by their own.  The relayed his findings back to the Captain, before asking to be beamed up from their current location.

The other two teams followed suit a few minutes later, and with 25 minutes to spare before the arrival of the Republic Valdore, the USS Jaxartes sped away.

Lieutenant-Commander Elizabeth Barbosa stood hands clasped behind her back as she stared out of the window of her office, situated at one end of the main prefabricated building, which formed the bulk of Cabot Base.  Examining the features of her forty something rounded face and her prematurely greying hair; at least some of it was still her original copper colour.  It was raining again!  And it was coming down as heavily as it had been for the past 27 days.  The ground was absolutely saturated with water; puddles and pools forming were there hadn’t been any before.

Everything had been fine when the team had first arrived four months ago. Barbosa was a botanist herself and in overall charge of the 16 strong team of scientific experts, currently working on the site.  At least they should be working, if it wasn’t for the inclement weather.  It was meant to be early summer in the northern hemisphere of Zeta-Delta III; but a freak one in a billion occurrence had flipped everything on its head, in more ways than one. 

It was something they couldn’t prevent, a rare act of geomagnetic mechanics; the evidence of which they’d missed in their haste to set up this base and all its equipment.  Technical as team leader it was her fault for not getting the vessel that had brought them here to scan the planet more thoroughly; she’d simply relied on the previously gathered data.  For 28 days ago; the planet Zeta-Delta III’s magnetic field had flipped.  Magnetic north was now technically south and vice versa.  The entire planet had been thrown into meteorological chaos; winds of nearly 200 kph had swept across its surface, tsunami like waves had battered huge areas of coastline and the rain was falling like there was no tomorrow.

The location of Cabot Base was on high ground and relatively sheltered from the hurricane force winds; but it had not escaped unscathed.  On the fourth day of this planet wide catastrophe, the communications tower had been struck by lightning.  The main dish had shattered and all the connecting wiring melted; leaving them unable to contact the outside world.  They did have a pair of shuttle craft which they’d been using for aerial surveys and moving equipment around; but it would be suicide attempting to take off in this weather. So they remained tethered down. 

Barbosa heard the door behind her open, she rarely ever had it locked and was used to the other scientists just walking in.  It was Lieutenant Chervil the chief Microbiologist and her deputy on this mission.

“Ah, Kate.” Elizabeth tried her best to sound cheerful, no small task, given the situation.  “How is the repair work going?”

“Paulson and Caliph are out having another go at the transmitter, so we can send an emergency signal.” The diminutive brunette replied. “And Wallenberg is seeing if he can fix number two generator.”

Barbosa hated the thought of those two guy’s being on the tower in such appalling conditions, attempting to rewire the short range antenna.  Abingdon had already fallen off the structure attempting the same thing; he was currently in their basic medical facility, sporting a broken arm.  The dislocated shoulder that had gone with it had been taken care of.  As for the Geologist working on one of the two generators which should have been powering the base, she did wonder what his chances of success where given his lack of knowledge regarding them.

‘Note to self.  Bring more than one engineer next time, and not just a bunch of scientists!’ Abingdon was first rate, but couldn’t do much with one working arm.  Though she knew if they hadn’t sedated him, he’d be trying to help. 

Elizabeth offered her friend and colleague a drink; wondering which piece of equipment would suddenly stop working, the moment she activated the replicator.  She could just imagine one of her team charging in to make a complaint.  Barbosa never got to hear anyone bemoan their plight, nor did she even get that drink.  There was a rumble like an earthquake and an almighty roar; before the whole world seemed to tip over on one side and everything went dark.  She heard Chervil yell something, right before the back of her head impacted against a hard object, knocking her unconscious. 

            ********** 

Awareness slowly returned; each sense taking it in turns to report its information to her brain; a brain that was having difficulty unscrambling the details.  Eyes slowly blinking open; picked up on lights and shadows.  Some of them moving whilst others remained stationary; none as yet totally in focus.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Came a calm male voice; but not one she recognised as being any member of her team.  Doctor Phlen smiled in that way only a Denobulan ever seemed to manage; ran a quick scan with the medical tricorder, then reported to his captain that the patient was coming round.

By the time Commander Lyambo had arrived at the ward were Barbosa was being cared for the Brazilian botanist was starting to see a little more clearly, and was sitting up with some water; which one of the nurses had fetched her.  Other than a mild throbbing at the back of the head, where she’d hit in against something in the dark, an ache in the lower back and a twinge in her right knee; she felt relatively ok.

After establishing where she was and how long she’d been out; Barbosa’s concern rapidly turned to that of her colleagues.  Most of those who’d been within the main building had suffered only minor injuries, mainly bumps, bruises and one dislocated ankle.  The exception to this however had been Wallenberg the Geologist.  She was saddened to learn that he’d been crushed to death by the generator he was attempting to repair.

“So what exactly happened down there?” She finally asked.

“Well according to my Chief Engineer who’s down there right now assessing the damage.” The Commander replied. “All that heavy rain opened up a sinkhole.  Your main building dropped about twenty metres before getting wedged against the rock.”

“Can anything be salvaged?”

“We’re getting that assessed right now.” 

            ********** 

As the Commander spoke his younger brother and the USS Chapel’s Chief Engineer was picking his way through the wreckage that had been Cabot Base.  Dinari picked up a damaged Electron Microscope, twisting it around in his hand, examining it from all sides.  Then tossed it to the young man about 5 metres away from him. “Stick that for recycling.” Was all he said as the other man caught the item and placed it on the growing pile of unsalvageable equipment.  He wasn’t sure what the next item he picked up was, but guessed the box like object with a small control panel mounted at the front, wasn’t meant to rattle when you shuck it. “And that.”  With a finally scan of his surrounding, the Chief was satisfied that this room had been dealt with and more cautiously to the next one.

There were those who’d questioned why he felt the need to climb down the sinkhole into the collapsed section of the base; but he knew how the scientists would feel if no attempt was made to rescue anything, and the structure was stable enough now the rain had ceased.  He’d already had a dozen samples collected by them beamed up to the Chapel. 

He’d be down there nearly another hour, before finally calling it quits and climbing back out.  He sat himself down on a dented shipping crate, excepting a flask from one of the few members of the scientific team still on the surface of the planet.  Paulson thanked him and his team for all the effort they’d made.  He wondered what would happen to the expedition now, having lost a fair chunk of their equipment; then of cause there was Wallenberg, a guy he’d worked with several times in the past.  Paulson would miss that roaring laugh.

The two of them turned to witness one of the two bases shuttles take off.  It had escaped unscathed, unlike its twin, now lying upside down in a ditch about 50 metres from its landing spot; yet still firmly attached to its half of the platform. 

“Come on then.” Dinari announced tapping the scientist on the shoulder. “Time to go folks.” He shouted loud enough for those dotted around the site to hear him.  A few short minutes later the base was deserted.

The rain had finally come to a complete stop; at least for now, and the planet Zeta-Delta III was returning to something closer to its normal self.  There was a slight breeze blowing in from the east, or was it west?  Since the magnetic poles had flipped just 31 days ago, working out direction and co-ordinates was proving a nightmare.  Anything fitted with global positioning systems and hadn’t been destroyed by the collapse of Cabot Base had needed to be reprogrammed; so it could once more understand were in the world it was.

One such issue had been with an aerial drone sent out to scope a potential sight for the science team to set up a new base.  For now they were operating in orbit aboard the USS Chapel, thanks to the generous offer from her captain.  As a medical ship the Chapel caring a lot of equipment similar to that which the survey team had been using, which meant they could carry on with some of their work, whilst waiting for the California class vessel that had been dispatched to bring them a replacement building and new apparatus. 

Caliph the Jordanian born Mycologist was carefully picking his way through the waist deep undergrowth in search of the wayward drone.  It had landed nearby, and Caliph was using a Tricorder to track it down.  The ground squelched beneath his boots with every step he took.  A few paces behind him Ensign Green; a young unassuming Nevadan born electronics engineer from the USS Chapel’s crew, who’d offered to reprogram the drone once they’d found it.

The trees cleared; a mix of two distinctly pine like species all towering above the two individuals, with broad leafed ferns filling in the gaps between them.  This section of the ground sloped away; there was indication of a landslide.  A number of trees had slid down the hillside along with the top layer of soil and ferns, leaving a large area of exposed ground; but it wasn’t empty and devoid of life.  There were some plants that had taken advantage of the newly formed clearing; most notably small bright blue flowers.  Caliph wasn’t a botanist, but didn’t recall any mention of small blue flowers in anyone’s report. 

They looked striking, if not a little unnatural in their colouring.  He was no expert though; all he knew was the golden rule, ‘Spot anything new or unusual, report it in.  Don’t touch.’  He was also sure the engineer with him had been told this, at least twice; so was rather annoyed when he saw the guy bend over to sniff them.  He yelled at Green, who merely shrugged and stood up, complained that having not ‘touched’ the flowers, there was no issue. 

The Mycologist made a note of their current location; before taking another check that they were still heading towards the drone.  Five minutes later, they spotted it, sitting in the branches of a tree just out of arms reach.  A quick game of rock, paper and scissors decided who’d be holding who aloft.  Green lost and therefore lifted Caliph up off the ground; the engineer wobbled slightly almost causing the other man to knock the drone out of the tree, instead though he grasped it firmly and was lowered back down.

Green apologies before coughing, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he turned away.  He took a drink of water from the small flask he was carrying, but that didn’t seem to make any difference.

“Are you ok?” Caliph asked feeling a little concerned.

“Yeah I’m.” Cough. “Fine” cough. “Just give me,” cough, “a sec.”  The words were barely out of Greens mouth when he keeled over.

Caliph tapped his comm-badge. “Medical emergency, two to beam up from my location.”

            ********** 

Three hours later Commander Charlie Lyambo stood at the bottom of a bio-bed aboard the USS Chapel, to his left stood Lieutenant Max Beaufort, his new Chief of security.  Doctor Phlen was just pulling the sheet up over the face of the lifeless body that now lay on that bed. “Record time of death of Ensign Peter Green at 12:07:20.”  The ships computer acknowledged, adding that information to the ensigns medical file.

“What can you tell me doctor?” Asked the Commander.

The Denobulan looked up, any trace of that usual smile he normally had, gone from his face. “Until an autopsy I can’t give you any definitive answers.  But all his major organs just shut down, starting with his lungs.”

Lyambo tapped the doctor on the shoulder. “I know you did all you could.” Then his attention switched to Beaufort. “Where had he been before getting sick?”

The Lieutenant scrolled through some of the data on his PADD; listing what Ensign Green had been doing in the last 24 hours, including his little field trip with the Mycologist.  Nothing really stood out other than the mention of these strange flowers and their location on the slope.

“Have a word with this Caliph and Lieutenant-Commander Barbosa; she’s their chief Botanist and expedition leader.” Lyambo instructed him.

Beaufort checked with the computer the location of the two individuals and made arrangement to meet them in his office.

            **********

The security section, of which Lieutenant Beaufort’s office was just part, was situated on deck 10.  It was a reasonably sized, if modestly decorated room.  He hadn’t really made it his own yet; after all he wasn’t sure how long he’d be in the post.  The goal was still to return to the cockpit of a fighter, once he had his new leg. There was a section of his old Valkyrie in a frame on the wall.  It was the part of the fuselage which carried the ‘Sundowner’ logo, the squadron he’d been part of until his mishap near Deneb.  His old helmet sat on a shelf next to a potted plant; he had no idea what the plant was or how to care for it, may be this Barbosa could advise him.

Lieutenant-Commander Elizabeth Barbosa and Hashem Jad Caliph, one of five civilians in the mixed team of scientists; Beaufort had checked their full names and work history.  Barbosa had been doing planetary ground surveys for the past twelve years, half of which as the team leader.  This was Caliph’s seventh mission working with her, but not all consecutively.   They both arrived together and Max invited them to take a seat and offered drinks.

Once everyone was settled Beaufort started by focusing on the Jordanian.  This would be his first interview as Security Chief, so Max was a mite nervous; coupled with the fact he hadn’t interact with people much up until the recent past.

“Mind if I call you Hashem?” He started, the other man nodded. “So Hashem why were you and Ensign Green out looking for this drone and not anyone else?”  It seemed a perfectly valid question and at least a starting point for the investigation.

“Basically I was spare at the time.” Caliph replied. “I didn’t have any pending work and due to all the rain we’d had, I hadn’t been far, so fancied the walk.  Peter, Ensign Green volunteered to come with me.”  The Mycologist continued by describing the journey, no more than a half hour from the point they’d been beamed down to; and the flowers Green had smelled despite prior warnings.

“So as a botanist, what do you make of these flowers?” Beaufort asked Barbosa.

“Odd, but not totally unique.  Plants have various ways of defending themselves or propagating.  This might be just how they naturally act and Ensign Green was just a victim of nature.” Barbosa pondered. “If we could get a sample to study, I may be able to give you a more definitive answer.”             

            **********

Roughly an hour later Lieutenant-Commander Barbosa stood on one of the transporter pads, dressed in a full Bio-hazard suit with the hood in her left hand.  “You don’t need to come with me.” She informed the Chief Engineer standing next to her.  “I’m perfectly capable of doing this alone.”

“I understand that.” He replied adjusting the strap around one of his gloves.  “The kid shouldn’t have died.  Not like this. I want to give his parents answers.” 

Barbosa understood were Dinari was coming from, she’d feel the same way; still carried the guilt of Wallenberg’s death three days previous, because several factors would have prevented it, and it all boiled down to her eagerness to get this project up and running.  They both placed the hoods over their head, and checked each other to see everything was sealed and airtight.  A thumbs up confirmed all was set.

They both materialised on the slope right were the vibrant blue flowers should have been; with emphasis on the word ‘should’.  For not a single flower was visible.  Barbosa and Lyambo looked at each other, double checked the co-ordinates; even knelt down to examine the ground closer and what small plant dotted the area, but not one solitary sign of the flowers they’d come looking for.  It just didn’t make sense, and the Botanist expressed as much.

            **********

The autopsy report of Ensign Green revealed that he had inhaled literally thousands of microscopic spores; many of them had been absorbed into the blood stream and spread throughout his body.  Acting very much like a poison, the spores had caused his organs to rapidly shut down.  It had been quick, but never the less a painful end to the young mans life.  The spores themselves had broken down leaving no trace other than the affect they’d had.

These flowers had proved both beautiful and deadly in equal measure.  How they’d come to grow on that small patch of ground and seemingly nowhere else on the planet was still a mystery.  Until more were found it would be impossible to learn anything about them.  With that in mind, a warning to not approach without full protective gear had been issued.  For now at least, there was nothing more anyone could do.

Captains Personal Log:

“It’s been six days now since the apparent attack on a secret Romulan prison facility referred to as Ty Shyla, by the Klingon’s.  I use the word ‘apparent’ as the whole situation doesn’t sit right.  Call it a gut feeling or a growing suspicion of everything going on around me. No, I may be just paranoid, but if one Klingon house had designs on crushing another; would they really take this sort of trouble to attack a prison.  Why not just leave them to rot.”

“Pause log.” 

Lieutenant Jason Devron sat back in his chair.  He was missing something; he’d felt that was the case when he’d sent in his report.  Someone was playing games.  By attacking a facility that didn’t officially exist, no one could complain about the loss of it.  But what of the prisoners though; none of whose details they’d been able to retrieve from the computers at Ty Shyla.  Data entries, logs, even the recorded video images from the cameras had all been either deleted or heavily corrupted.  The decision to inform the Klingon High Command had been put on hold; there was enough tension in the air already.  He didn’t like the thought of keeping it a secret, but did understand the reasoning behind it. 

Jason was about to continue with his personal log, when there was a buzz at the door.  He straightened out his uniform jacket and made a quick check that his hair was in reasonable order, before granting whoever was outside his quarter’s access.  It was doctor Andrianakis; she seemed a little concerned about something, he recognised the look.

“Is something the matter doc?”  He asked, offering her the only other seat in the room.

“I could ask the same about you.” She replied. “You’ve been a bit quiet these past few days.  Ever since we left that prison.” 

Jason clasped his hands together in his lap. “Yeah I know and I’m sorry.  All that death just seemed so pointless.”  He looked at the back of those hands, those hands that had killed; those hands that had snuffed out the life of one individual in a pointless and brutal way.  Other scares were healing, a few were just sad and bitter memories, but this one ran deep and cut right into his heart.  Being forced into killing his own grandfather by the influence of the Borg had completely changed Devron’s view of life and death.  The Ensign who’d first boarded the USS Jaxartes may have been a bit to headstrong and sure of himself, a bit too ready to rush into the fight.  But then Salan the Vulcan commanding officer who’d selected him for the crew had understood that; had known how to temper the brash eagerness and mould him into a more measured individual, that took the time to study the situation and how to face it.  Eight months had shown him a lot; mainly about himself and his own abilities.

Andrianakis waited; she seemed to sense Devron was deep in thought.  She knew exactly when his mind returned to the present, and the slight flush of the cheeks with embarrassment for drifting off with his memories. “If I tell you what I have to say, you won’t think I’ve gone made will you?”

“Phoebe, I will never thing you’re mad.” He’d used her first name, something he never did if someone else was around whilst they were both on duty.

“We need to get to Harpers Rift.” There, she’d said it; plan and simple, after mulling over the best way to approach this conversation; since waking up this morning.  “Don’t ask me why.  It’s just a feeling and I can’t explain it to you.” 

Jason had heard of Harpers Rift; another one of those dangerous anomalies were sensors didn’t work and ships got themselves lost if they ventured too deep.  It wasn’t that far away in regards to galactic distances; four days travel at most.  Was this what that member of the ‘Q’ Continuum had been referring to when he’d said Andrianakis had an important role to play in the future?  Had that time finally arrived?  He grabbed both her hands in his. “I trust you.”

Those three words probably meant more to the young Greek woman at that moment than any other words so far spoken to her.  She felt the weight of worry lift from her shoulders, and did something neither of them would have expected; she kissed him, right on the lips.  Surprise and realisation entered both their minds simultaneously, followed by embarrassment and red faces.  They looked way, focusing on anything in the room but each other; though her hands were still in his.

“I.” It was the only word that came from Phoebe’s lips, nearly a minute later.

“It’s ok you don’t need to apologise.” Jason tried his best to sound comforting and reassuring.  “We’d better get this ship moving though.”  He smiled and jumped up out of his chair heading out the door and towards the Bridge.  Leaving her to think about what she’d just done.

            **********

There it was before them; the slowly swirling mass of pinks, purples, reds and blues, known as Harpers Rift.  It wasn’t the largest gas cloud by any stretch of the imagination, but it was no less strange and mysterious than any other.  Attempts to scan it revealed very little; other ships had done so in the past, with more success.  None though had ever penetrated into its heart.  Well may be one, but that had been 135 years ago, and much about it was confusing.  Any information was based solely on the crazed ramblings of one man, whose name this cloud bore.  Few had probably ever heard of Captain Alex Harper and the crew of the USS Kinshasa.  The Saladin class destroyer had gone missing in October of 2265; her captain was discovered near the rift in a damaged shuttle craft in August of the following year.  No trace of the Kinshasa or the rest of her 197 crew had ever been found.

Captain Harper claimed they’d travelled into the rift and discovered it was a gateway to another universe.  The ship; already damaged by its transit through the rift, was attacked and boarded.  He’d been confused and rather vague about the details of his capture or what had happened to any of the other crew.  Somehow he’d managed to escape and return in a shuttlecraft.  There were those that believed the whole story had been fabricated to cover up his incompetence.  Whatever the case, Harper never set foot on another star ship for the rest of his life.

Lieutenant Devron sat forward in his Captains seat watching the cloud on the main view screen.  He’d managed to convince the crew to follow his instructions and head this way, despite not being able to give them any real details.  They trusted him, but that trust would be tested if nothing happened.  He’d neglected to tell them this was solely based on a feeling by the doctor; he would take full responsibility for the whole situation.

Two hours past agonisingly slowly, with none sign of anything happening.  So when doctor Andrianakis stepped on to the bridge a few minutes later, Devron figured it would be now or never.

“I’m picking up an odd reading from within the cloud.”  Announced the Cardassian Tactical Officer, as he monitored his screen.  “Unknown object approaching at sub-light.  Hold it, make that three.”

“Any details on size, course, heading?” Devron enquired.

“They look to be small two person craft, though life signs aren’t registering due to interference.”  Tholakath continued.  “Baring 030 mark 045.”

“First vessel should reach the edge of the cloud in fifteen minutes at current course and speed.”  Add C’Rren from his science station.

“Lieutenant Stuart, bring us around to intercept.” The Captain requested. “Yellow Alert; shields up. Ensign Cho, can you raise any of those ships.”

“Negative sir; I’m getting no response on all hailing frequencies.”  The Communications Officer informed him.  Devron asked her to keep trying, as he knew she would.

More information was slowly coming to light, as the time passed and the distance between the USS Jaxartes and the three unknown vessels was reduced. 

“Sir the second and third vessels appear to be firing upon the lead one.” Tholakath reported a short while later. “The cloud is possibly interfering with their targeting systems.” 

“Go to Red Alert.” Commanded Devron. “Prepare to fire warning shots first, and disable the two hostile craft if they don’t take the hint.”

The three small ships exited the cloud one after the other; each was around twice the size of a Valkyrie, dart like in shape with three equidistant fins at the tail, with a photon torpedo sized pod glowing purple, and attached to the tip of each fin.  Those pods were most likely the vessels means of propulsion.  Once out of the cloud the aim of the other two craft improved dramatically.  A direct hit on the lead vessel caused its uppermost engine pod to spark with light, and then go completely black. 

Warning shots went unheeded, but when the forward phasers of the ‘Jax’ struck one of the two ships, they both turned and bolted for the relative safety of the cloud.

“Do we pursue?” Asked Stuart.

“No, number one; let them run.” Replied her Captain.  “Hopefully our friend here can shed light on what going on.”  He pointed at the now lone ship on the screen, which evidently feeling free of immediate danger was rapidly slowing down.  Its maroon coloured hull bore a couple of scorch makes from the energy weapons used by its attackers, but otherwise apart from the damaged engine, seemed in fairly good shape.

“I’m getting an incoming message from the unidentified ship Captain.” Cho informed him a moment later.

“On screen.”

The image took a moment to resolve itself on the main viewer; but when it did, the face that looked back at the bridge crew and doctor Andrianakis was definitely not one they would have expected to see. Certainly not here and now and in a situation like this.  No, this was a very unexpected development.

<< To be continued…. >>