The deck and walls shuddered. The lights flickered. Distant explosions echoed throughout the corridors. The air was no longer still, a sharp wind rose, then fell. The hull breach had been sealed.
"Well, that was interesting," Macen muttered.
Macen, Lisea, and P'Ris were crawling through an access tunnel similar to a Jeffrey's' Tube. It had been designed as a hidden route through the ship for the Commander's use. Monitors and sensors watched every compartment from these labyrinths. The system had been designed in the eventuality of a mutiny. They were finally serving their intended purpose.
"The shields were struck by both phasers and disrupters," P'Ris observed. "That means Vetrik hasn't sided with that traitor D'ionn."
"That would be a good thing," Danan replied dryly. "We seem to be a tad short of allies aboard this ship."
"Sad, but true," P'Ris murmured bitterly.
"Where are we headed?" Macen asked from the rear of the procession. His voice was tainted with impatience. Danan's mouth tightened around the corners. She knew that Brin hated small places. This access tunnel was about as small as he could handle for an extended period of time.
"We're headed for the secondary transporter," P'Ris answered.
"Can we transport through the shields?" Danan asked in surprise.
"Yes," P'Ris answered. "It requires an authorisation code. Only I have the code."
"Must be nice," Macen quipped from behind Danan, "to build ships around a siege mentality."
P'Ris' face assumed a chagrined expression, but she remained silent. She led the way for several hundred metres. It was slow going, it felt as though they had been crawling for hours when they reached the access panel they sought. P'Ris activated a small monitor and studied its display for a moment.
"There is only one guard," she said with a sense of satisfaction. "I know her. She may assist us."
"I hope so," Danan replied ominously. "For her sake."
P'Ris ignored Danan's veiled threat and concentrated on the panel instead. She thumbed a release and the panel detached itself from the bulkhead. It fell outward, clattering on the deck. The guard spun, aiming her disrupter at the sound.
P'Ris crawled out of the tunnel with her hands displayed in front of her. "Don't shoot, Centurion."
The guard was confused. "Commander?"
P'Ris nodded, trying to project more confidence then she currently felt. "Yes, it's me."
"You're wounded!" the Centurion observed with alarm.
P'Ris glanced down at the green stained hole in her uniform. Danan had applied a pressure bandage and a salve that stimulated cellular regeneration. It was still a half measure, merely concerned with stanching blood flow. The scar would be wicked to behold.
"I am all right," P'Ris reassured the Centurion. "As are my saviours."
The Centurion's mouth opened questioningly. She sensed the movement in the access before she saw it. Her grip on her disrupter tightened as Danan crawled out of the tiny space. She seemed on the verge of a conniption when Macen followed.
"Stand easy," P'Ris ordered. The steel in her voice tempered the Centurion's mood. She hesitated, then holstered her disrupter. P'Ris smiled in approval.
"We need to set up the transporter so we can beam over to Vetrik's ship," P'Ris announced.
Macen cocked his head slightly to the side. "No." P'Ris and Danan turned and stared at him. He smiled. "I have a better idea."
"What idea?" Danan asked warily.
"We transport to the bridge and re-take the ship," Macen explained.
"Right," Danan snorted.
"Wait," P'Ris interjected. "It may be possible." They both looked to her for an explanation. "We can scan the bridge and find out where everyone is. It will not be a blind jump."
"We need to distract them while we materialise," Macen interjected. "Do you have anything up to the task?"
P'Ris weighed the options. "Yes. We have luminescent grenades. We can set the timers and beam them over. They will blind everyone while you materialise."
Macen broke into a feral smile as Danan responded. "That should work perfectly." She paused, then added sombrely, "You do realise that most of your bridge compliment will be killed?"
P'Ris sighed. "A necessity, I fear."
Danan shrugged. "Just so there are no misunderstandings."
P'Ris' eyes widened. The hardness in Macen and Danan's eyes belied any belief she had previously held regarding the Federation's softness. It was apparent that these two would readily kill if they felt the situation warranted it. It was a rather militant attitude for a supposedly utopian society. It was also one she could respect under these circumstances.
"How much time will you need in preparation?" P'Ris asked.
"We can go once the scans are complete and the grenades have activated," Macen replied.
"Very well." She took a deep breath. "I shall be ready then as well."
"No." Macen's reply was terse.
P'Ris' mouth opened. She glanced towards Lisea. She found no support in Danan's face. Danan's eyes had gone hard and cold. She was committed in her support of her commander.
"Why?" P'Ris asked sourly.
"You're wounded," Macen replied evenly. "You are also the commanding officer of this vessel. You need to be alive, in case our attempt fails."
She stared at them. Her defiance melted in the face of the logic of his words. She stood a better chance of rallying her fellow Rihansu against the mutineers. If she died, Vetrik might also attack the Federation ship. His vessel would not survive such an encounter.
"You are correct," she conceded. "I will begin the scans."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"That seems to have taken care of their weapons array," Derrico reported.
"Do you confirm, Commander Vetrik?" T'Kir asked the viewer.
The Rihansu broke into a relieved smile. "Yes, Captain. I concur."
"Their shields are holding," Derrico reported.
"Yes." Vetrik conceded. "The shields are a separate system. We have to destroy the emitters or overload the drive."
"That would be fun to watch," T'Kir commented. "But that wouldn't get our commanders back."
Vetrik looked disturbed by the comment. "No...it wouldn't."
"Has anyone heard from them?" T'Kir asked in frustration.
"No," Vetrik answered.
T'Kir's face lit up. "Then maybe we should just blow them to hell."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Beaming grenades...now!" P'Ris announced. "Assume station on the transport pads."
Brin and Danan hopped up to the pads. A moment later, the world shimmered into non-existence. When reality regained cohesion, the scenery had changed dramatically. They were on the bridge, surrounded by half-blinded Rihansu.
They had beamed in with their weapons drawn and ready in two-handed grips. Macen shot the helmsman first. Danan turned and killed the tactical officer. Macen fired twice more, each burst catching another bridge officer in the chest. Danan walked to the station consoles and began shooting the Rihansu manning those posts.
Macen walked to the seat of command. D'ionn's vision was clearing and her face twisted into a masque of rage as she recognised him. She came to her feet and her hand dropped towards her holster. Macen fired.
D'ionn collapsed onto the deck. Her face was a charred pit in her skull. He calmly surveyed the rest of the bridge. The surviving Rihansu had thrown aside their weapons and were standing in a corner under Danan's watchful eye.
Macen toggled the intercom switch on the Commander's chair. "Commander P'Ris, the bridge is secure. You may transport at any time."
A moment later, P'Ris materialised on the bridge. She took in the carnage that had been unleashed with a resolute gaze. She had accepted the deaths of her personnel before she had transported Macen and Danan. The corpses represented no sense of guilt for her.
She turned to where Macen and Danan had the surviving bridge complement under guard. "You may release them."
Macen glanced over his shoulder. "Are you certain?"
"They can prove their loyalty by lowering the shields and contacting our sister ship and your vessel and assuring them that we have no hostile intentions," she answered with a razor smile.
The crew wasted no time in proving themselves to their Commander.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Macen, Danan, P'Ris, and Vetrik sat gathered around the conference table in the Odyssey's Briefing Room. Macen and Lisea had both been surprised by Vetrik's joy at seeing P'Ris alive. Even now, he had his hand on hers. P'Ris seemed to draw strength from this.
P'Ris smiled wanly. "What now?"
Macen exchanged a grin with Danan. "We were hoping you'd still provide us with charts outlining your colonial boundaries."
P'Ris either snorted or laughed. "That is the least I can do for you."
Macen's gaze hardened. "There is another service you could provide."
Vetrik tensed, but P'Ris soothed him with a pat on his hand. "No. He is correct. It is the least we can do."
She cocked her head slightly to the left as she met Macen's gaze. "May I ask you a question?"
He nodded.
"Why was this task given to you?"
"You know why." he answered gruffly.
Her smile was sad. "Yes, I do. You are quite formidable. Starfleet must trust you implicitly."
Lisea snorted. Macen shook his head ruefully. "Quite the opposite, actually."
That answer confused P'Ris, so Macen explained. "Before I was assigned to command this ship, I left Starfleet and fought for the Maquis. I survived the defeat at the hands of the Dominion and was recruited to help Starfleet's war effort. Some would feel that I am feel more loyalty to a non-existent force than to Starfleet."
"Do you?" P'Ris asked softly, understanding his ease with violent warfare in a new light.
Macen shrugged. "I don't honestly know. When I was assigned to infiltrate the Maquis, I felt more loyalty towards their cause then I have felt towards anything since the destruction of my homeworld."
Vetrik looked stunned, "You were a Maquis?"
Danan smiled. "We were both Maquis."
Vetrik looked towards her. "I am surprised by the pride you obviously feel about that."
"Why?" Danan asked warily.
"The Maquis were nothing but thugs and terrorists," Vetrik spat.
Danan's voice lowered. "Don't you ever..."
"Enough!" Macen slammed his fist into the table. "We have different perspectives on this matter. The Maquis can be viewed as the heroes we knew them for, or the terrorists they were to others. That's superfluous at the moment. We need to move forward."
"I agree," P'Ris spoke up. "How do you suggest we do so?"
"Take us to where the Federation gulag is," Macen informed her.
"Nothing else?" she asked with a hint of mischief.
"Any other assistance you're willing to offer won't be refused," he replied with a smirk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I can't believe this," Derrico muttered miserably.
"Believe what?" Kort slurred.
"That we're teaming up with Romulans," Derrico whispered conspiratorially.
"I agree," Kort hissed back, then bellowed for the benefit of the entire lounge. "We have allied ourselves with traitors and thieves!"
Several crewmen shuffled out of the lounge. Others resumed their conversations, ignoring the inebriated Klingon. Kort shouted several insults in his native tongue at them and fate in general. He snorted derisively and returned to his drink.
They sat in miserable silence for several minutes before Derrico spoke again. "I thought you were going to teach me the other virtues of the warrior."
Kort nearly choked on his shot of bloodwine. "On this ship? Pah!" He swung his arms out expansively. "Do you see any females worthy of notice?"
"Actually..."
"None," Kort snarled, cutting Derrico off. "The only one of worth is Commander Danan. She is the Captain's mate. I would not dishonour myself by interfering in that coupling. The Vulcan is a fighter, but too crazy. The helmsman, now there mystery."
"You think she's attractive?" Derrico asked in disbelief.
"No," Kort dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "She is too skinny. She also lurks about the corridors when she is not on duty. It is very odd."
Derrico sobered immediately. "She lurks about what corridors?"
"Places like Auxiliary Control," Kort replied in disgust. "At least T'Kir goes to Botany and takes her pleasure from that Lieutenant. Not D'art, noooo, she skulks about like some thief."
"Are you sure?" Derrico asked again.
"I saw her!" Kort roared. "With my own eyes. I left Sickbay because I could not stand to hear some pathetic crewman whine about a meaningless scratch or an ache. Such mewling babes." He spat in disgust. "I cannot believe that Starfleet cowed my people. I truly am amazed that Starfleet defeated the Dominion. These cretins cannot even work an entire shift with a muscle pull. They fear a scar as though it is life threatening." He cast a scornful eye about the lounge, which was far less populated then when he began his diatribe. "A scar is a badge of honour! Wear them with pride!"
With that said, Kort's head hit the table and remained there. Derrico made sure he was still breathing, then excused himself from the table and left the lounge. He proceeded straight to his quarters. From there, he pulled up several Starfleet Security files. Two hours later he found what he was looking for, absolutely nothing.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"They're being insufferable," Danan complained.
Macen sighed and poured her another glass of wine. He handed it to her and returned to his seat. Lisea took a sip of the wine and then looked between the candles at him. She found his dour expression annoying.
"What?" she asked defensively.
"Nothing," he muttered.
"Liar." She retorted. "What is it?"
Another sigh. "I think we could have reached an agreement with the Rihansu if you hadn't antagonised Vetrik."
"What?" she replied derisively. "A lecture on diplomacy from you? Who's the one that made an enemy of virtually every Starfleet admiral proclaiming the sainthood of the Maquis?"
Brin gave her a chagrined smile. "All right, so maybe I'm not one to talk."
"Damn straight," she agreed enthusiastically.
"But we'd know exactly we stand now rather than having to wait until morning."
"On the other hand, if we knew now, we'd probably be underway," she replied in a sultry voice. "Which means we wouldn't be having this dinner." She stared long and hard into his eyes. "And we definitely wouldn't have a chance at desert."
"Maybe there's something to be said about a lack of social graces," Brin mused.
Lisea rose from her chair and seated herself in his lap. "Shut up and kiss me, you idiot."
That was one request Macen was more than happy to oblige.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
P'Ris let out a moan as she lowered herself onto her couch. Vetrik watched this with some amusement. The Commander had been making quite a show out of shrugging of her wound. Her display of mortality in front of him indicated her trust in him.
He glanced around the damaged remains of her quarters. He remembered his initial surprise at the utilitarian sparseness of the décor. P'Ris had no images displayed, no luxuries to relax upon, no reminders of home at all. He wondered if this trait was what made her the ideal administrator for the Rihansu colonies.
No, he answered himself cynically. What makes her ideal is the simple fact she has no ambitions of her own.
He smiled pleasantly. "Can I get you anything?"
She frowned at him. "Just an answer as to why D'ionn betrayed me."
He bowed. "As you order." He turned on his heel and departed.
P'Ris opened her mouth to call out for him and inform him that she had only jested. She stopped herself. If he really could answer such questions, then she would have a confirmation or denial of her own suspicions. Such data would prove invaluable as she pondered her response to Macen's request.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Brin and Lisea lay together in his bed. She faced outward away from the bulkhead. He lay behind her with his arms wrapped around her. Lisea stared out into space for a long while before speaking.
"Brin...does it ever bother you?"
She could feel his muscles tense up. His voice was wary when he replied. "Bother me in what way?"
She rolled over, putting her arm under her head. His face was barely visible in the grey light. What she could see led her to believe that he was remorseful. Her eyes locked on his as she spoke.
"Did you ever wonder..." her voice sounded strangled as she sought the proper words. "Do you ever wonder of we could achieve our goals with less..."
"Violence?" he asked cynically. "Or, less killing?" His voice was bitter. "I used to. Now I just accept it as the price for securing the comfort of those that condemn the payment."
She crooked her arm up and lay her head upon her hand. "What do you mean?"
He released a long, weary sigh. "The Federation has become softer than when I joined, less willing to pay the price for the freedoms of its citizenry."
"I tend to agree," she admitted. "But how do you see what we have done as the price?"
He propped himself up with his arm. "When the Federation and the Cardassian Union formed the Demilitarised Zone, it was a moment of expediency. Forget the lives that would be affected. Buy off the aggressor and move on and enjoy our toiless lives."
He snorted bitterly. "What neither side realised was that there were people willing to commit their very lives to the task of rectifying that wrong." His voice lowered. "Right now, that's our role inside of Starfleet."
"Isn't that the job of the Inspector General's Office and the Judge Advocate General?" she retorted.
"Partially," he replied grimly. "We were given this assignment because Command knew that we'd take whatever steps were necessary to complete the mission."
"But killing nearly the entire bridge complement aboard P'Ris' Warbird?" she protested.
"How were we going to distinguish potential allies from foes?" Macen asked pensively.
Lisea's mouth quirked. "I don't know. I haven't come up with a better plan yet."
Macen shook his head sadly. "Neither have I. We have to accept what happened."
Her eyes flashed angrily. "Is that all? There's nothing better we can do next time?"
She could see his resilience and determination in his eyes as he slowly shook his head. "If you were in the same situation right now, this moment, what actions would you change?"
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then she faltered. "I don't know," she whispered.
"The past is done," he said clinically. "We can strive not to repeat mistakes, but we cannot alter what is already done. We can only accept the consequences of our actions. No more, no less."
She flopped back down onto the bed with a snort. "Well, that's certainly a comfort."
He smiled indulgently. "You weren't seeking comfort. You were seeking absolution." His expression turned serious. "You have to find that within yourself. You've found it before. You'll find it again."
She turned and smiled at him. Her smile was warm and inviting. "You realise that this is why I love you?"
"Because I can discuss killing people without getting upset?" he asked sarcastically.
She knocked his arm out from underneath him. "No, silly. It's because you'll take the time to at least discuss these things with me. And help me sort out six previous lifetimes' worth of experience."
She could see his eyes soften. "That's why I'm here."
"And I, for one, and very happy that you..." She was interrupted by the beeping of her comm badge. "Damn! Who could that be?"
Macen wore a wry smile as she twisted in the bed to reach for her uniform jacket. She slapped the badge as though she were swatting an annoying insect. Macen found the metaphor applicable. He also pities whoever was at the other end of the line.
"Danan," she snarled. "What is this about?"
"Tavers, sir," a female voice answered. "I am the Security Officer of the Watch. We are receiving complaints regarding a disturbance on Deck Five. I thought you would like to be informed."
"What kind of disturbance?" Lisea asked impatiently.
"At first we thought it may be an attempted murder," Taver's voice reported. Macen fought to suppress a snicker. "But we soon realised that the disturbance was of a...different nature."
"I'm assuming it's of a sexual nature," Lisea replied wryly.
"Yessir," Tavers agreed in the relief of not having to offer any more descriptions. "The occupants of the room are refusing to acknowledge comm alerts...and frankly, no one wants to go in there. It sounds like a war zone."
"Very well. I'll deal with the problem," Lisea replied. And quickly, too. Brin sounds like he's going to bloody well choke himself trying to suppress that laugh. "Who are the offending parties?"
"Lieutenants T'Kir and Berent." That certainly evoked a reaction from Macen, who was now red and convulsing from the effort of restraining himself.
"Danan, out," she said to the bridge officer. "Danan to T'Kir."
There was no reply. "Reply, T'Kir." Still no answer, "Answer the bloody comm our I'll have you on report!"
"T'Kir...here." The Vulcan's voice was strained and heavy. Her breathing was heaving, punctuated by groans in the background. Macen was nearly hysterical now. Lisea's face twisted in annoyance at the fact that T'Kir hadn't even bothered to cease her offending activity in order to receive the reprimand.
"There have been complaints of noise in your section."
"I...haven't...heard...a...thing," T'Kir replied in heaving gasps.
Macen's head was under a pillow as Lisea persisted. "Lieutenant T'Kir, I do not give a personal damn what you do with your free time. Just don't do it so loudly that you keep everyone on Deck Five awake!"
A final moan came over the comm. After a moment's silence, T'Kir's voice came across. She was now coolly dispassionate and devoid of emotion. In other words, she sounded like a typical Vulcan.
"I do not believe that shall be of further issue tonight. Any future activities will be conducted more...discreetly."
"Thank you," Lisea replied in exasperation. "Danan, out"
Now that the channel was closed, Macen finally indulged in a howling fit of laughter. Lisea stared at him in stony silence for a moment. Seconds later, a ghost of a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. Seconds after that she was laughing as well.
"The nerve of that woman," she gasped.
"She's a corker," Macen gasped in reply, trying not to hyperventilate.
They took a moment to gather their breath. Once that was accomplished, they rolled onto their sides facing one another. A mischievous smile played at Macen's lips. Lisea's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What?"
"We could give them a run for their money," he suggested.
"Captain!" she said in alarm. "I'm appalled. We're the two senior officers aboard, we should be setting an example."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. How silly of me."
She pounced on top of him, rolling him onto his back. "How silly indeed," she purred.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next morning, Derrico intercepted Macen and Danan on their way to Transporter Room Two. "Sirs, may I have a moment?"
Macen nodded assent.
"Captain, I made a search of Ensign D'art's file last night."
Macen's eyebrow rose. "And why this sudden interest?"
Derrico looked uneasy. "Kort informed me that he had seen D'art loitering around Auxiliary Control at odd hours. I wanted to check her records and see if there were any discrepancies."
"Were there?" Macen asked, a concerned edge to his voice.
"No," Derrico answered to his obvious relief.
"Then why are we having this conversation?" Macen asked in a bantering tone.
Derrico saw through the feigned amusement. "I apologise, Captain."
Macen shook his head. "You don't have to apologise, Lieutenant. Just be sure you have a little more to go on before bringing it to me next time."
Derrico knew that Macen's friendly tone was genuine this time. He turned to depart when Macen called back to him.
"Derrico, I understand that you have become friends with Doctor Kort."
"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Derrico admitted uneasily.
"Can you pass a message on to him for me?"
"Certainly."
"Tell him that if he's ever so drunk that he cannot respond to an injury I will have him thrown in the brig." Macen's voice lost all traces of humour.
Derrico swallowed. "Yes, sir."
"Carry on, Lieutenant."
"Uh...yes, sir."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Doctor," the nurse poked his head into Kort's office. "There's someone here to see you."
"Silence, you smooth-browed stain upon your mame's virtue," Kort yelled, then clutched his head. "Have Dr. Melbus see to the patient," he groaned miserably.
The nurse smiled. "He's here to see you, not receive treatment."
"Then send the excrement sample in," Kort rumbled in resignation.
His face brightened when he saw it was Derrico. "Greetings my...ahhhh!" he clutched his head, wincing.
"Hung over?" Derrico chuckled.
"You find this amusing, flat-skull?" Kort groused.
"Yes, I do," Derrico answered with relish.
"So would I in your place," Kort admitted with a grin. "Please sit." He motioned towards a chair opposite his desk.
Derrico waved his hand. "No, I'm on my way to the bridge. I just dropped by to deliver a message from the Captain."
"Which is?"
"If you ever get too drunk to attend an emergency, he'll lock you in the brig." Derrico amended the message.
Kort growled, but nodded. "Very well. Inform the Captain I will abide by his decision."
"Tell him yourself." Derrico chuckled as he left the office.
Kort smiled in appreciation. Derrico was transforming himself into a fine man. The Klingon no longer cowed him. Kort admitted that the human was even displaying...what was it called...piss and vinegar?
"Doctor..." the nurse poked his head in again. "I really think you should examine the next patient."
"Silence!" Kort bellowed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The lift Derrico was in arrived at the bridge when his comm badge chirped. He tagged it with his hand. "Derrico here."
"Mr. Derrico," Macen's voice came over. "Might I suggest a follow-up to your earlier efforts?"
"Certainly," he replied, wondering where this was going.
"I would suggest contacting Tarrik and assessing which portions of the ship are the most vulnerable. After that, you may want to assign a rotating patrol through those areas."
Derrico smiled. "Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away."
Lisea gave Brin a smile of approval. "Did you hear the enthusiasm in his voice?"
Macen shrugged. "I think he's just looking for a little recognition."
"Aren't we all?" she asked with an impish smile.
"I think not," he answered cockily.
"You don't think?" she retorted snidely.
He rolled his eyes, turning to the transporter tech on duty. "Are you ready?"
"Awaiting final coordinates," the male Bolian replied.
"Commander Danan," Kort's voice came over the ship's intercom.
"Danan here," she replied smoothly even though her expression was puzzled.
"Can you please come to Sickbay?"
"I'm in the middle of something. Can it wait?"
"Curse you, woman," Kort snarled. "I am following procedure here. I wish to discuss the safety of a crewman, and you want to dither in a transporter room?"
Her eyes met Macen's. They were aflame. "Very well, Doctor. I will be there shortly." Her voice was acidic.
"Get to the Briefing Room as soon as you can," Macen requested as she started to stalk off. "And one more thing?"
She turned to glower at him. He ignored it. "Try to leave him alive. We might actually need his skills someday."
She fought to suppress a smile. "Very well, but only because you're ordering me to."
"Order is probably an overstatement," Macen muttered to her departing back. He turned to the tech. "Do we have those coordinates yet?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then what are you waiting for? Beam her over, man."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Danan strode into Sickbay. "Very well, Doctor, why am I here?"
"Do not be impertinent with me, woman," Kort rumbled, drawing himself to his full height.
Danan moved closer. Her hand snapped out so fast he couldn't see the movement. She now had a knife to his throat. Her eyes narrowed as she whispered just load enough for him to hear.
"I am the First Officer aboard this vessel. I suggest you remember that fact in all further communications with me."
Kort smiled expansively, then laughed, "I am heartened to see you as learned in Klingon greetings as our esteemed Captain."
Danan stepped back, smiling narrowly. "I've had a long time to acquaint ourselves with your culture."
He studied her movements as she returned her blade to its wrist sheath. Her every movement was a study in graceful destruction. She, like the Captain, was battle tested. If asked, Kort would guess that the commanding officers were veterans of dozens of hard fought battles. They would have made excellent Klingons, he mused.
Why'd you call me up here then?" she asked slightly impatiently.
"It involves Lieutenant Berent," Kort informed her direly.
Danan caught herself starting to snigger. Kort obviously found this distasteful.
"Have I said something humorous?"
"Not at all," she assured him. "His name just came up last night."
"Yes," Kort rumbled. "His name and that of Lieutenant T'Kir has been the focus of conversation of those inhabiting Deck Five."
"I see you're familiar with the problem already," Danan said with amusement.
Kort nodded gravely. "I am, but I am not sure anyone else is."
"What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly serious.
"Observe," he said as he activated the monitor on his wall. The scene was that of three biobeds. Berent was seated on one of them, staring blankly ahead. His face and arms were covered with multiple bruises and scratches.
"What happened to him?" she asked.
"T'Kir happened to him," Kort replied in disgust.
Danan turned towards him, hands folded across her chest. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Kort sighed as he sank into his chair. "Vulcans are touch telepaths."
She nodded. "Everyone knows that."
Kort glared at her, annoyed at being interrupted. "They form especially lasting bonds during periods of intense physical contact."
"Namely sex," Lisea replied dryly.
Kort coughed uncomfortably. "Precisely. Apparently T'Kir is an exceptionally powerful telepath, but she is poorly trained. She has only the barest control over her own abilities. Her encounter, or encounters, with Mr. Berent have left him a state similar to catatonia."
"Can he be helped?"
Kort nodded. "Yes. We have medications that will diminish the effects of the bond." He paused before adding, "The best treatment, however, is his being quarantined from T'Kir. Her very presence can affect him now, and for the presumable future."
Danan's mouth tightened. "I'll deal with that. You just start him on the drugs."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Danan stepped out of the lift onto the Bridge. "Lieutenant T'Kir, join me in the Ready Room please."
T'Kir looked baffled. Several officers stared at her as she followed Danan into the room. The door shut behind them and Lisea took a seat on the desk. She left T'Kir standing.
"You are hereby ordered to refrain from any further contact with Lieutenant Berent."
"Why?" T'Kir snarled.
Danan folded her arms across her chest. "Because you're killing the boy."
"Hardly," T'Kir snorted. "I'm helping him fulfill his fantasies."
"He's fulfilling yours," Lisea replied coldly. "Right now, I don't think he's capable of having any."
"What are you talking about?" T'Kir asked with her arms spread wide. "When I left him this morning, he was fine."
"He was fine before you left," Danan explained. "It was after you left that he slumped over and became vegetative. You've formed a mental bond with him, and his mind isn't strong enough to accept it. When you're gone, he ceases to function."
"How was I supposed to know?" T'Kir protested.
"You should know!" Danan snapped. "I'm holding you responsible for this. You've endangered this boy's mind and possibly his life. If I find out that you've done this to anyone else, I'll drop you off on the nearest uninhabited planet so fast it'll make your molecules separate."
"And how am I supposed to enjoy recreation if all the males on this ship are the same way?" T'Kir complained.
Danan rose of the desk and stood centimetres from T'Kir's face. "You don't. You don't touch another crewman unless you're absolutely sure of the effect it will have upon them."
"How am I supposed to find another man under those conditions?" T'Kir whined.
"That's not my problem," Danan informed her frigidly. "Be sure that it never becomes my problem. Understood?"
T'Kir stood silently. Lisea was about to speak when the comm chirped.
"Commander Danan?" It was Macen's voice.
"Danan here, Captain."
"We need you in the Briefing Room. Please come immediately."
"Understood. I'm on my way." She turned to see T'Kir starting to depart. "One moment, Lieutenant. I asked you a question."
T'Kir muttered her reply under her breath.
Danan stepped in close again. "I can't hear you. What is your answer?"
"I understand," T'Kir replied sullenly.
"Again," Danan snapped. "Convince me that you understand."
"I will avoid sexual relations with anyone that I suspect it will affect mentally," T'Kir nearly shouted.
The Trill gave her a thin smile. "Very good. I think you have received the message. Dismissed."
Lisea then went straightaway across the bridge to the Briefing Room access. She had heard the quiet dread in Brin's voice. She didn't want to know what had frightened him, but knew she had little choice in the matter.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
P'Ris materialised from the transporter beam and blinked. Macen stood before her, as well as a Starfleet technician manning the transporter controls. She'd never been aboard a Federation vessel before, much less a Starfleet starship. Her contacts had given her some data on this vessel, and she was curious as to how much of it she'd be allowed to see.
"If you follow me, Commander," Macen said with a smile, "I'll escort you to our Briefing Room."
P'Ris suppressed the frown she felt coming on. Not much apparently. "Thank you Captain."
P'Ris sat close to the display system. The conference table was an oblong affair. The technical specialists being placed closer to the displays in order to present and explain their material. Although, as a consolation they received an excellent view of space denied to the Captain since the viewport was behind him/her.
Macen wore a charming smile. "Can I offer you any refreshments?"
He can be a dangerous one when he wants to be, P'Ris mused. Aloud she replied, "No thank you. I would like to begin a review of the material I have brought as soon as possible."
"Certainly." Macen maintained his ingratiating smile. "Commander Danan will be joining us shortly. Will you require any assistance?"
She shook her head. "No. Your systems are quite similar to our own."
She turned and activated the display panel. A star chart was immediately displayed.
"This is an outline of all Rihansu territorial claims," she explained. "For security reasons, the planetary data has been removed, but the borders are clearly illustrated."
Macen gave the border a cursory glance before commenting, "This is a fairly small region of space."
P'Ris gave him an illusive smile. "The Rihansu do not require much, Captain. We simply wish to live out our lives as we see fit."
Macen looked faintly amused as he replied, "I don't see where that will pose a problem."
P'Ris' eyes narrowed. "It does for some."
Macen shrugged, "It doesn't for me."
"We shall see, Captain," P'Ris replied archly.
She changed the display, it now showed a star system. A single planet within the system was highlighted.
"This is Gulag," she explained without a trace of inflection on her voice. "It houses the prison facility you are seeking."
"And how did you come by this location?" he asked innocently.
She gave him a reproving glance as she answered, "I believe you know quite well I came by my knowledge. In exchange for certain favours, we transported prisoners and guards from the Neutral Zone across the Empire to Gulag."
"What kind of favours?" Macen asked.
"Guarantees of political, and potentially military, support if the Empire ever attacked us," P'Ris replied hotly.
"Who are these people?" Macen asked.
P'Ris activated the next display. "This is an orbital scan of the prison."
"Ye gods!" Macen muttered. "It's a fortress."
"Yes." P'Ris' voice indicated her admiration of the facility's designers. She pointed towards several highlighted sections. "These are anti-ship phaser emplacements. The shield generators are staged so as to provide layered, ablative shielding. The weapons emplacements surround prisoner barracks so as to prevent surgical strikes. No strike upon the defensive systems will avoid collateral damage."
Macen was as surprised by the similarity of Romulan and Federation military terminology as he was at the strange familiarity of the prison's layout. He knew that some verbal similarities were a result of the universal translator. He also acknowledged that certain euphemisms of warfare were universal, no matter the original language. The prison, on the other hand, shouldn't feel so comfortable?
P'Ris shifted to the next display. Macen's blood froze and his heart stopped. It showed a man in a grey and black uniform. He wore boots and pants similar in design to the earliest Starfleet fashions. The tunic was a grey fold-over design with black highlights. The rank insignia was a rectangular pin worn on the right side of the grey under-tunic's collar. The under-tunic was identical to that worn by Starfleet as part of their recent jumpsuit styled uniform. It was the uniform Macen had appreciated the most.
His eyes narrowed as he continued his examination of the display. The figure wore a tactical thigh holster, strapped down twice. The holster held a rectangular pistol. He cradled a rifle in his hands. The grip was forward, near the barrel. A scope was mounted along the body of the weapon.
"Can you enhance the image?" Macen asked hoarsely. "Concentrate on the rank insignia on the neck."
P'Ris complied, enlarging the image of the man's neck. Macen recognised the insignia. The man was a Colonel. It was a title analogous with his Starfleet rank of captain. It was a Starfleet Marine's uniform, insignia, weaponry, and apparently, prison. The Marines had been disbanded nearly a century before.
"Where did you get this image?" he asked, his throat constricted by dread.
"It was one of the guards we transported," P'Ris answered, observing his discomfort with fascination. "It was a uniform I was unfamiliar with. Do you know its origin?"
"Yes," he admitted grimly. "All too well." He tapped his comm badge. "Commander Danan?"
"Danan here, Captain," Lisea's voice replied.
"We need you in the Briefing Room. Please come her immediately."
"Understood. I'm on my way." The connection fell silent. He could hear the frustration in Lisea's voice and knew the situation in Sickbay must have gotten fairly unruly. He'd explore the issue later. Right now he desperately needed Lisea's insight regarding this revelation.
Danan breezed into the Briefing Room. "I've got the situation is Sickbay settled down. Now can someone tell me..."
Her voice faded out as she recognised the image on the display. She stood in the doorway looking stricken. Her pale features were drained of all colour. She looked faint and quickly took the nearest seat before her knees buckled.
"How...?" she choked out. "Where is this from?"
"The Gulag," Macen answered, his voice deadened from shock.
"How is that possible?" she asked, trying to deny the evidence before her.
"I don't know," Macen admitted dismally. "All Marine equipment and uniforms were retired a century ago."
"Except for the archives and pieces Starfleet kept for itself," Danan amended.
"Who are these 'Marines'?" P'Ris asked, reminding the others of her presence.
"A military force that used to be part of Starfleet," Macen answered, reminding her of what he'd told her before. "The Marines were ground troops, utilised for taking and holding territory."
"We'll never be able to penetrate their security," Lisea murmured despondently.
"Why not?" P'Ris asked.
"That installation is specifically designed repel orbital assaults," Lisea replied in a surly tone. "Trust me, it can't be done with this ship."
"What if you don't use this ship?" P'Ris asked.
A flicker went through Macen's eyes as he asked, "What do you mean?"
"I have a plan," P'Ris informed them, then proceeded to explain what that plan was.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I don't like it," Danan said in a huff, hands on her hips.
"We don't have to like it," Macen countered. "We just have to make it work."
Her glare followed him across his spartan quarters. He hadn't had time to bring any personal effects, only what was in his duffel.
"No," she replied acidly. "We don't."
He turned. His gaze was fierce. Danan could not recall ever seeing this look ever being directed at her before. It made her uncomfortable.
"Are we going to have a problem now?" he asked tartly.
"Only of you continue with this plan," she replied hotly.
"Lisea," Macen said in an overly restrained voice. "You are the love of my life. You are also the First Officer of this ship. Don't ever confuse the two."
She felt a fiery blush rushing to her cheeks. "Don't worry. I'll remove at least one of those obstacles before that happens."
She could see him mentally switching gears into his analytical mode. She knew that's what was required of him in order to carry out his mission. She also found it damnably annoying at this moment. She forced herself to take several deep breaths before speaking again.
"I do not think it is prudent to place a team aboard Commander P'Ris' Warbird and have them enter Gulag space while the Odyssey waits outside of sensor range," she said as calmly as she could.
"Can you come up with a better way of circumventing their security precautions than by posing as a relief unit being transported by the Rihansu?" he asked dispassionately.
"No," she admitted angrily.
"Then we proceed with the current plan," he said abruptly. "Now, let's go meet with Derrico and select which crewmen will become Marines for this mission."
