Gamma Mission

[Mark]

USS Ravage - Transporter Room 3

"Energize" Sinclair ordered.

The familiar blue beam coalesced into a somewhat bedraggled looking unkempt officer in the blues of a medical officer, with several days beard growth, carrying a cane, and wearing an extremely irritated expression.

"Doctor Holmes" Sinclair began politely "Welcome aboard, and thank you for coming."

"As if I had a choice." was the irritated reply, catching Sinclair off guard.

The figure stepped off the transporter pad limping badly and leaning heavily on his cane. He looked at Sinclair as if he were as dumb as a tree stump and shook his head.

"Didn't they teach you compassion in the academy?" Holmes griped.

"I'm sorry" Sinclair responded in confusion, "I don't take your meaning."

Holmes stopped long enough to shake his cane under the Commander's nose and said, "Hello, I'm disabled. Would a site to site transport been completely out of the question? After all, I'm doing YOU people a favor."

Shaking his head, Sinclair responded "I'm sorry for the inconvenience Doctor. I wasn't made aware that you had any special requirements. Please, if you'll follow me, I'll escort you to sickbay."

"Sure, why the hell not." Holmes responded, following into step with the XO. "It's not like I've ever set foot on a Nebula class starship before. Oh wait, silly me. I've been on over half a dozen! I'm almost positive I wouldn't have gotten lost and ended up in Ten Forward. Of course, on the other hand, I COULD use a drink."

As they entered the turbolift, Sinclair ordered "Sickbay", and then, after taking a calming breath, silently counted to ten before beginning again. "I assume that you've been briefed on the situation by Dr. Otaka?"

"Commander," Holmes replied "What are the first three letters of the word assume?"

"A S S" Sinclair replied, not really thinking about it.

With a smile, Holmes brightly announced, "And that, Commander, is what you just made out of yourself for asking me that question. Of course I've been briefed." He then, as the turbolift doors opened, he muttered audibly under his breath, "Idiot."

"Excuse me?" Sinclair snapped.

"No need." Holmes quickly replied, stepping out of the lift first, and heading towards Sickbay, "After all, there's really not too much you can do about it this late in the game."

Sinclair took a breath, preparing to deliver a sharp retort to the insubordinate doctor, but was interrupted by Holmes who announced "Well, here we are."

Glancing at Sinclair, Holmes told the Commander, "Well Sir, you have certainly been a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, but I've got to go to work now. Why don't you run along and, I don't know, go command something." With a fluttering gesture of his hand, Holmes apparently dismissed the First Officer and entered Sickbay, leaving Sinclair standing alone in the corridor.

Darkly, the XO thought, "If the bastard didn't already have a limp, I'd LOVE to give him one."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
USS Ravage - Sickbay (48 hours later)

Slowly, McDuff opened his eyes. Looking around, he felt a moment of confusion, not understanding where he was or what had happened. Then suddenly, all at once it hit him.

"I'm alive?" he muttered.

A doctor holding a cane in one hand and a medical tricorder in the other stepped over and began taking scans. After punching a few keys and making a couple of passes with the tricorder's wand, he snapped it closed.

"No." the Doctor replied. "Your dead and I'm God. Disappointing, isn't it?"

"Who the hell are you?" the old man croaked.

"Well," the man began, "Since you've already obviously made up your mind that I'm NOT the almighty, I may as well tell you. I'm Doctor Holmes, from the Daystrom. And since you've decided to live, I'm going to go home now."

Without another word, Holmes unceremoniously dumped the tricorder on an instrument tray, and exited Sickbay. McDuff couldn't help but think how TIRED the man looked.

A few minutes later, Captain Lewis, Commander Sinclair, and Doctor Otaka all walked into Sickbay with big grins on their faces.

"How are you feeling, Master Chief?" Lewis asked

"Better than I should" McDuff replied. "How am I?"

"You're going to make a full recovery." Dr. Otaka said "You can return to LIGHT duty in a few days. But you'll need to take it slow. You've had nearly every organ in your chest replaced with bio-synthetics. In some ways, you're better than you were before you got shot."

"We can rebuild him" McDuff replied with an obscure quote "Make him better, faster, and stronger. To bad you couldn't make me younger." He quipped.

Dr. Otaka stepped off to the side with Captain Lewis for a moment, so McDuff asked Sinclair "What's been going on since I've been on break?"

As Sinclair filled the old man in, Dr. Otaka whispered to Lewis "You should recommend that Captain W'trisk give that bastard a medal."

"Why?" Lewis asked.

"He operated for 36 straight hours." Otaka explained "He went threw five shifts of nurses, and stopped only once for a head break. If I hadn't seen him operate, I'd have told you it was impossible, what he did. McDuff should be back on full duty in a couple of weeks, when two days ago, I didn't think he'd be alive."

"Never fear, Doctor." Lewis replied. "I'll ask Captain W'trisk to make sure Doctor Holmes gets what he deserves."

Silently he thought, "Either a medal, or a swift kick in the "

[Mikey]

The Daystrom paused as the station's tractor beams took hold of the Jem'hadar battlecruiser, then proceeded to settle into her own berth. Liam had sent a full damage report, and a handful of workpods emerged from the station to begin tending to the hull. Mikey's comm badge chirped and Liam reported, "Station personnel have confirmed a repair schedule. I'll have teams overhaul the fix on the warp coil and get on the perimeter energy grid."

"Negative," Mikey answered.

"Sir?"

"Alpha shift gets at least the next four hours off. That goes for all departments," Mikey answered, addressing the bridge staff as well as the engineer over the comm channel. The Andorian's antennae sagged as he absently watched the view of the little workpods darting from spot to spot on the hull of his ship. The number of casualties was relatively low, but he had still spent the better part of the return trip composing letters to the families of former crew members. He wasn't tired, as such, but he was drained.

"Prisoner transfer complete," announced Moncano. Only one Jem'hadar had died en route - a particularly vocal Second who wouldn't stop attempting to short the brig force field, and had to be completely deprived of Ketrocel White.

"Very good," Mikey answered. "Go ahead and take a break." As the gamma shift began relieving the bridge officers, Mikey ambled into his ready room and reviewed the report waiting on his terminal. After double-checking it he sent it to the commodore's office and received a message in response. "Thank you, captain," read the message. "Debriefing and planning meeting at 1830." Mikey sighed as his door chime beeped. "Come in."

Jon Hewer walked in. "Welcome aboard," Mikey grinned. "Hell of a job the last few days."

"Thank you, sir," Hewer replied. "What's our situation?"

"Station's begun a repair schedule. Gamma shift is on - I ordered four hours off for all alpha shift personnel. I have a meeting in five and a half hours." Mikey leaned forward in his chair and asked in a conspiratorial tone, "What was going on with the Ravage crew, Jon?"

"It's hard to say," Hewer began. "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but someone got the control systems on that battlecruiser up and running in a hurry. No translation, no interface conversion, nothing."

"Hmmm..." Mikey murmured absently. "Okay, Jon, get yourself a little downtime. I'll be on the station."

*************************

Mikey hadn't been sitting in the station's lounge for long when Krem found him and sat at his table, a bottle of blood wine in hand. "As promised," Krem said, then laughed heartily when Mikey proferred his makeshift goblet. "Excellent!" Krem roared, filling Mikey's cup and his own. "To the deaths of our enemies!" the Klingon toasted.

Mikey raised his own glass and said, "To victory in all our efforts." After a few such rounds, he noticed a familiar figure striding by the entrance to the lounge. "Commander!" he called. When D'tyra stopped and turned he rose and continued, "Won't you join us?"

As she approached the table she said, "I have much to attend before our meeting, but such a polite invitation deserves at least one drink."

"Indeed," Mikey answered, "and so does the Lacron. She fought well and bravely - as did her captain."

"Thank you, Captain W'trisk." A hint of a smile crossed D'tyra's expression as she hefted the quarter-full bottle. Before either man could offer her a cup she smashed the neck off the bottle against the table, titled it up to her mouth, and drained it. "I'm sorry I can't stay," she said coyly and swept out of the room. Krem followed Mikey's unabashed stare and began to guffaw.

Rousing himself, Mikey said, "I also have to see to some things. Thank you, Captain Krem." Walking out of the room, he tapped his comm badge and said quietly, "Captain Lewis? It's W'trisk. Would you be able to meet me a few minutes before the debriefing? I have a couple of questions."

[Sonic Glitch]

"...I have a couple of questions."
Lewis tapped his combadge, had had a feeling he knew where this was going. "I think I can find the time Captain. Your place or mine?"
"Mine preferably."
"Understood. Give me 5 minutes."
"Very good, I'll be waiting. W'trisk out." and with that the channel closed. Capt. Lewis rummaged around his desk for a pad and downloaded the appropriate materials before departing for the transporter room. He asked the chief to beam him to the Daystrom. Commander Hewer met him there.
"Good afternoon commander, I assume you have some idea what this is about?"
"I amy have a vague idea." Hewer replied with a slight smile, "all he knows is that someone on board has extrememly in depth knowledge of Dominion computer protocals."
"That's alright commander," replied Lewis, "I'm about to bring him into the fold." He crossed the bridge, noting the crewman already involved in repairing the ships damage, and entered the ready room.
"You called captain?" he asked.
W'trisk leaned back in his chair, "I did. Please sit down, can I get you anything?" Lewis took the chair accross from the captains desk, "No, I'm fine, but thank you. I understand you have some questions?"
"Indeed I do captain. My XO was telling me earlier how someone on your ship works very well with Dominion computers. I was a little curious as to who it might be."
Lewis leaned back in his chair, "You know, one day earlier I would've told you the same thing your XO did and said your trespassing into compartmentalized material. But, after our meeting here I intend to go to the Commodore and inform him of our guest so we can plan a mass reveal to the fleet. Back on Deep Space Nine Commander Vaughn and I decided it's always a good idea to have a hidden ace." Lewis gestured with the pad he carried. "If you don't mind me asking Captain, what is your security clearence?"
W'trisks antennae bobbed in an intrigued manner and replied "Alpha 3." he then shrugged a little and added, "with allowances depending on the material."
"Alright Captain, you've just been cleared for this." Lewis handed the pad accross the table. As W'trisk read his face darkened and his grip tightened on the pad. When he was finished he set the pad aside, took a quick steadying breath, and looked Lewis in they eye before speaking.

[Mark]

USS Paladin - Mark's Quarters

Mark slowly opened his eyes. For the first time in what seemed like years, but was really only a matter days, Mark had enjoyed his first full and uninterrupted nights sleep. The night before, just after coming off duty, Mark had reported to Sickbay for a follow up exam on his shoulder and after a quick examination was sent to bed, with a threat of dire consequences if the lieutenant didn't get eight to ten hours of sleep. Inside, Mark felt like he was shirking his duties, but was honest enough with himself to admit he was functioning at less than optimal.

After showering, shaving, and donning a fresh uniform, Mark stepped out back into his living room to replicate his breakfast, when he noticed that the light to his personal comm unit was flashing, indicating a message. As tired as he'd been, he wasn't sure how long the message had been waiting for him, so after replicating a bagel and a spicy Vulcan tea, sat down to view the message. Only years of Vulcan training kept him from gaping aloud at what appeared on the viewscreen. The image of Tar Ritan, the Brikar security officer turned murderer looked back at him.

"Mark" the gravely voice began, "If your seeing this message, that means that I'm dead, and not able to explain my actions to you face to face. If that's the case, I want you to know that I'm sorry it had to come to this, but I'm not sorry for what I did. You'll never know what I owed your father, and the loss of a washed up and over the hill security guard is nothing compared to the lives of bright and promising young officers like you and Collins."

Mark paused the message in shock, and quickly used a calming exercise before resuming the message.

"That's right, Marky-boy" Tar said with a rueful tone to his voice "I didn't kill Danny. But I figured out who did. Dr. Turod, one of those Vulcan scientists we picked up at DS9. That synthetic hand of his didn't leave any evidence at all on that phaser, and it was only pure chance that I found out about it. How I found out isn't important, but what IS important is why he did it. Dr. Turod was a Pa'dir, a telepathic apprentice if you will. In the 22nd century, it was discovered that a faction of Vulcans were using their telepathic powers to experience thoughts, memories, and emotions of others. They were mind-rapists. Sound like anybody you know?"

Again, Mark paused the message, letting the implication of the Brikar's words sink in, before playing it again.

A look of smoldering anger began to show in Tar's eyes. "I've been at this security business a bit longer than you, Marky-boy, so I knew a trick or two for reconstructing the computer recording in Collin's quarters, but not exactly in a way reliable enough to submit as evidence, but obvious nonetheless. Mark, it was Torak! When that bastard told you he and Collins were entertaining each other, he meant he was mind raping him. Just like he did to you, but worse. From what I saw, he went a bit too far, and the poor kid turned into a vegetable. Then that son of a bitch Turod went in like nothing, typed out a fictitious suicide note, and vaporized the poor, defenseless kid. Covering for his master I suppose."

Clenching his hand on the monitor, Tar continued "Mark, I knew what they did, but had no legal way to prove it. If I reported it to you, you would have been duty bound to bring it to Captain Fletcher, who would have been duty bound to have you arrest both of them, who then, because of the evidence, would have been acquitted, and could never be prosecuted for these crimes again, and then go free to do this to more and more innocent people. I just couldn't let that happen."

Mark stared at the panel screen completely engrossed and dumbfounded, as things began to click into place.

Shaking his head in sorrow, Tar said "It was the only way Marky-boy. I only hope that I get them both before you get me. And I have no illusion that you won't get me. You're too good not too. But if I don't get them both, I need you to know what happened, so you can find some way to stop them."

With that the screen went blank.

And Mark saw a silhouette in the darkened panel, just before his head exploded in a terrifiying and painfully familiar way.

"It would seem," Torak began, training what appeared to be a highly illegal and painfully deadly Varon-T disrupter, from inside the doorway to Mark's quarters, "that we will entertain each other one last time."

[Mikey]

"A Jem'hadar advisor?!" Mikey placed both palms flat on his desk and attempted to collect himself. "Jem'hadar are bred - specifically created - to fight and to kill... and now we have one as an envoy?"

"They are bred to serve the Founders," Lewis answered calmly, "and in this case that means acting as an attache to our mission. The Dominion can't abide a splinter group, but is bound against taking action against one of their own." Lewis went on to detail Taran'atar's actions against the other Jem'hadar on the bridge of the Ravage.

Mikey rose and paced while his antennae twitched. Lewis certainly wasn't concerned, and his relaxed demeanor helped Mikey calm down. "I understand, but it's tough to get my head around. For a long time I lived with a 'kill or be killed' attitude towards the Jem'hadar, and with good reason. They never showed any quarter, and I learned not to show any to them."

"Things change," Lewis answered vaguely. "In any case, Taran'atar is here for the duration. He's already shown his worth, and more than likely will be valuable to the mission."

"I suppose you're right," Mikey sighed as he retook his seat. "Who else knows?"

Lewis hesitated just a moment, and Mikey felt him tense slightly. "Nobody here, on the mission," Lewis said. Mikey discreetly chose not to press that issue. Lewis continued, "I'm going to tell Grayling, and I expect he'll address it to the fleet captains."

"The Romulans will be philosophical, but the Klingons will be a problem,'' Mikey mused. "Ah, well. If that thing is an asset, as you say, then I'd suggest putting him to work ASAP. I'll recommend that all relevant sensor logs and battle records be transferred to the Ravage for his analysis." Checking the time on his desktop console Mikey stood, indicated the door, and said, "Shall we?"

[Mikey]

***narrative post by request***

Lewis stood at attention as Commodore Grayling sat at his desk and watched the recording from the Ravage's bridge. Grayling's expression grew more and more grave as the recording played, finally mixing with a fair bit of puzzlement. Finally, the commodore simply said, "Who is it, and where did he come from?"

"That is Taran'atar, Dominion envoy to the Federation and advisor to our current mission," Lewis answered without altering his stance of stiff attention.

"Advisor!" bellowed Grayling, standing. "On whose authority? I didn't install any such advisor!"

Lewis hesitated for a moment before responding. "He was incorporated into the mission on the... urging of a Commander Vaughn, of-"

"I know who he is, Captain." Grayling sat back down and began massaging his temples. "At ease." Matt's posture relaxed as Grayling continued, "But why? What does Vaughn have to gain by sending that thing with us? Surely it's not reporting to him... and any intel this group picks up would end up in Vaughn's hands anyway. Well, Captain?" Vaughn finished, looking sharply up at Lewis. Lewis looked vacant for a moment and Grayling went on, "Listen - I understand why Vaughn's word carries a great deal of weight with you, and what kind of position he put you in. That doesn't exonerate you from your failure to inform me of this thing's presence, much less active role. Don't dig yourself a hole you can't get out of, Lewis. One second." The commodore tapped his comm badge and said aside, "Commander Rochey? Hold off the debriefing for 10 minutes. I'll be occupied a moment." Turning back to face Lewis, he said, "Well?"

"I can't say I'm sure, sir. As you say, there are certain pressures Vaughn was able to bring to bear to convince me to house Taran'atar; but I'm not sure of Vaughn's motivations. I never was, and I doubt I ever will be." Matt sighed and continued, "I'm sorry for not informing you, sir, but I expected an even more volatile reaction than this. For what it's worth, I satisfied myself of Taran'atar's intentions and loyalties before we ever left DS9. I'd like to think I was proved right by his assistance during the battle, and by the actions you just saw."

"I guess you were right about that, at least," Grayling sighed. "Who else knows about this?"

"My senior staff, Captain W'trisk and his XO Commander Hewer, Lt. Corrin of the Valkyrie's Marine complement and his platoon. I have Corrin's confidence by direct order, and I trust in Captain W'trisk's."

"That hardly matters now. Well, dammit - if the thing is going to be here, we might as well put it to work. You're excused from the debriefing for five minutes - you're going to go get this... er, 'Taran'atar,' and bring him. You'll introduce him to the fleet captains, and we're going to expect his analysis and recommendations."

Lewis drew himself back up to attention. He didn't look forward to seeing the Klingons' reaction to Taran'atar, but figured he still got off pretty lightly. "Aye, sir. Five minutes."

[Mark]

USS Paladin - Mark's Quarters

The pain in Mark's head from the telepathic assault held him immobile much more effectively than the weapon being trained on him. He would have passed out by now from the horrid agony being inflicted on him, but Torak held him conscious through their telepathic link. Mark could feel the warm blood begin to flow out of his nose, as always happened when he suffered telepathic contact.

"Why?" Mark gasped

"The sheer logic of this is inescapable." Torak said, with a typical Vulcan sneer in his voice, but with a complete mask of dispassion on his face. "You were the first. You allowed me to experience emotion and memories for the first time, that I never would have speculated were possible. However, we were interrupted, and for many years I have been insatiably curious about what else there was. It would have been most illogical to not finish what one has begun. Even a human would have to agree."

Torak passed the disrupter to his left hand as he stepped forward, closing the distance between the two and roughly placed his fingers to Mark's face. Even as Torak began to move, Mark felt the telepathic link begin to form between the two of them. When his fingers found the appropriate places on Mark's face, he began the ritual Vulcan chant.

"My mind to your mind" the Vulcan said, "My thoughts to your thoughts."

Humans, while not telepathic by nature themselves, have some minimal natural resistance to a forced telepathic connection, and that resistance could be built up with time and training. Mark, however, had these defenses completely ripped away by Torak when they were boys, and thus was completely unable to defend himself against telepaths. Now, simply being in the same room with a Betazoid could give him a painful headache, much less allow him to resist someone of Torak's unusual power.

"Now we are one" Torak uttered from both of their mouths.

A swirl of memories and repressed emotions raged through Mark's mind. His loneliness at the Academy, his desire to be the best at everything that he could possibly be. The rage he'd allowed to overcome him as he fought and beaten those cadets that tried to bully him. The lust he'd experienced on leave after graduation with a passionate Bajoran woman on Risa, the nervousness when he'd reported his superior officer for her unwanted advances onboard the Intrepid, but most of all, the sheer terror of once again being completely helpless and defenseless. Tears of fear and pain began to run freely down the lieutenant's face.

Torak's face was a mask of evil ecstasy, as he enjoyed the barrage of emotion. In that moment, during the link, Mark felt something from inside Torak, an endless void. Vulcans suppressed their emotions, but had them nevertheless. Torak had no emotion whatsoever. Other Vulcans would foolishly envy him, but Humans would call him a sociopath. The complete lack of emotion is what drove Torak to rape the minds of others, for experiencing them, even vicariously was better than never experiencing them at all. A barrage of the faces of Torak's other victims floated past Mark's minds eye, including the face of Ensign Daniel Collins.

"So many" Mark thought, convinced he was about to become just another face, as the pain began to reach the point that would forever break his mind. Just then, another face, this time from Mark's own past flashed in his mind, sparking a memory. Mark's instructor, his Pan Master had once patiently explained to Mark, as a youth, why he must continuously drill and train, even after he had mastered the moves and techniques that were taught to him.

"One may find oneself unable to breathe, see, or even think." The Master lectured "Your body will remember what to do, what actions to take, and be able to act on them even if your mind is elsewhere."

Torak was so caught up in the torrent of emotion that he failed to realize it when Mark's body acted. With a casual brush to a nerve cluster on Torak's wrist, Mark's right hand paralyzed Torak's left one, causing his hand to go numb and drop the disruptor. Mark's left hand snapped forward, thrusting from shoulder, with his first two fingers stiffening to a spear point, directly into Torak's right eye. With a squeal of pain, and an explosion of emerald blood, Mark felt Torak's eyeball pop under his fingers. Torak staggered back, and out of Mark's quarters, both hands clutched to his ruined face, trying to stem the flow of blood. The psychic backlash that hit Mark was indescribable, but this time, mercifully, he was able to sink into unconsciousness.

USS Paladin - Sickbay (three days later)

Captain Fletcher entered Sickbay with a frustrated set to his jaw.

"Lieutenant" The Captain said, "I wanted you to hear this from me first and in person."

Taking a deep breath, Fletcher continued, "He got away. We don't know where he went or even how, but he's gone. We've searched the base, every Starfleet, Klingon, and Romulan ship we've got, and even scanned those blasted traders we're doing business with. He got away clean."

With a nod, Mark said "Understood, sir. Thank you. Captain, when can I return to duty?"

Hiding a small grin, Captain Fletcher replied, "Return? Your already late, Lieutenant. Your shift started 15 minutes ago. I expect punctuality from my officers, mister. I'll excuse it this once, but I expect you on the bridge, at tactical, making sure my lance works next time, or else I'll have you polishing torpedo casings. Understood?"

Hopping out of bed, Mark relied with poorly hidden relief, "Aye aye, sir!" and sprinted to his quarters to get into uniform, with Fletcher following behind him at a much more leisurely pace, chuckling softly.

In his office, the CMO looked at the closing door and called out after them, "I guess you're discharged then, Lieutenant. But it WOULD be nice if anyone ever thought to ask me first."

[Sonic Glitch]

The walk down the corriders to the briefing room was one of the most interesting experiences Taran'atar had had of late. Little was said but he was able to examine the reactions on most of the faces that passed by. Most faces expressed the human emotion known as "shock" which he saw for some progressed into indignation and revulsion. He could understand their feelings. Fifteen years ago he, or more accurately others like him as he never served in the Alpha Quadrant, were their mortal enemy. Today they were again fighting the Jem'hadar. He gave credit to their Starfleet training for him still being alive. He had no doubts that if he were on a Klingon or Romulan ship, he would have been dead the moment he crossed the airlock.
He stopped with Captain Lewis before entering the briefing room. Commander Sinclair was already inside so at least one Ravage officer would be present for the beginning of the briefing.

"Alright," Lewis said, turning towards him, "I recommend you don't say anything unless you have to. We're here to convince them your harmless."

"I doubt that will be easy." replied Taran'atar, remembering his first days on DS9.

Lewis gave him a quick smile, "Don't worry about it. Do you have a copy of the recording Odo sent with you just in case?" Taran'atar nodded. "Alright then, shall we?"

They entered the room. The Klingon delegation lept to it's feet with disruptors drawn as soon as he entered the room, followed by their Romulan and Federation counterparts a second later. Of the Romulans, only Commander D'Tyra remained seated, and of the Starfleeters only Captain W'Trisk, and Commander Sinclair remained seated. The commodore most likely would have remained seating had he not been standing at the head of the table.

"Would everyone please retake their seats?" He asked. "There is nothing to be afraid of. I believe Captain Lewis has a little announcement he would like to make." The assorted officers returned to their seats, but the Klingons kept their hands near their disruptors, eyeing the Captain and Taran'atar suspiciously. Taran'atar moved back and tried to make himself seem as inconspicuous as possible as Captain Lewis began to speak,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm afraid I haven't been quite honest with all of you. I have been keeping an ace hidden up my sleeve most of this mission. This is Taran'atar, Dominion envoy to Deep Space Nine and Unofficial Mission Specialist." Taran'atar nodded, understanding this was a traditional human acknowledgement

"I was unaware we had a 'mission specialist'." interupted one of the Klingons.

"That was somewhat the point Commander." Lewis replied, "his official title is 'unofficial' mission specialist" continued Lewis in an attempt at humor that garned only a few rolled eyes from the crowd and confusion from the Jem'Hadar.

"Still," persisted the Klingon, "you expect us to trust you, what's more trust HIM on this mission? If he were so vital, why keep him hidden.'

Lewis met the Klingon commanders gaze glare for glare, "Because we knew this would be the reception he would get. When I saw 'we' I mean myself and Commander Vaugh back on Deep Space Nine. We'd worked together previously so before the convoy departed him and I got together to reminisce about old times and plan for the mission. We decided we couldn't take the Defiant because it was still needed for station defense and the Commodore had been adamant about not wanting the Defiant along. We did realize however that when dealing with the Dominion it is always a good idea to have an extra card up your sleeve." At this D'Tyra and some of the Romulan delegation nodded.

"Still, why did you not reveal him earlier." Asked the XO from the Valkyrie.

"First off," began Lewis turning to face the officer, "we wanted to keep him a secret. That extra card doesn't do you much good if everyone know's you have it. Commander Vaughn and I have enough clearence to ...act discretionatly...in matters of security. Second, we felt, based on prior experience, that some officers would respond negatively to being asked to include a Jem'Hadar advisor in their fleet. We decided it would be better to send him along clandestinely and reveal his existence only if necessary. Well, I decided with the successful capture of a Jem'hadar battlecruiser that we might as well reveal our last card."

There were many shared looks and mutterings around the table. Finally Captain Krem asked, "So based on your word, we are supposed to trust him?"

"Don't just take my word for it Captain, examine his deeds if you must. Thanks to him we were able to quickly secure and access the Battlecruiser, and he saved us all on the Ravage. If I may Commodore?" Lewis gestured with the isolinear chip which had a copy of Taran'atars actions on the bridge of the Ravage.

"By all means Captain." replied the Commodore with a "this is your show" gesture. He inserted the card and stepped back to watch the conversation at the end.

[Lt. Staplic]

- Station's Bar/Lounge Area -

Cix walked into the Bar on the Station, he'd just been over on the Ravage to see the Chief Engineer. He was still in sickbay recovering, and Seth though he should pay a visit to the old Engineer.

Seth looked around the bar, there were a few people groups clustered at various tables, all of wich were busy pretending the terrifying Xindi Officer wasn't there.

Seth moved to a table near the bar and sat down by himself. He wanted to be close enough to get a drink, but he hated staring at the looks of fear from the bartenders when ever he got to close. He ordered a drink and slowly drank it, thinking about the discussion currently going on with all the Commanders.

A few minutes later Seth heard the doors to the lounge open and close again. He looked up to see who the new arrival was and was suprised to see one of the Marines off the Valkyrie. Seth watched him as he glanced around and recognized him as the leader of the unit that boarded the Bridge.

Seth watched the officer out of the corner of his eye as he made his way to the bar and ordered a drink. He was about ready to return his thoughts to what the future plan might be when he was interrupted:

"This seat taken?"

The young marine was stanging next to the table pointing at the chair accross from Seth. The way he asked the question reminded him of the Old Engineer he'd befriended back at Deep Space 9.

"No." Seth said curiously studying the Marine as he sat.

The Marine was much different than most other Humans. Seth could tell by the way he acted around him on duty that he wasn't very comfortable around him, not unusual in itslef as most humans were. But this marine didn't fear Seth.

"Where is your unit?" Seth asked.

"There's a rumor flying around that all the Marines are going to be re-assigned to the Battle Cruiser," the Marine said. "I ordered them to pack up their belongings just in case."

"I see." Seth said letting the conversation die.

"So. What about you, any idea what changes are going to be happening on the Valkyire?" the Marine asked continuing the discussion.

"No, we'll need to re-orgonize our bridge crew, several of our officers have been severly wounded. I'm sure several other ships have also expirenced losses that will need to be taken care of." Seth said.

"I guess so." James replied. "We're going to need the Paladin repaired and running correctly soon, or we're not going to stand a chance when we find their command fleet."

"You meen when we run into their Battle ships." Seth corrected. "Our fleet is strong, but we'll have a hell of a time fighting a fleet of Bugs and Battle Cruisers with one or more Battle ships without the Paladin's Lance."

"Exactly. That Lance is the difference for us when we meet a Battle Ship." Jemes replied taking another drink. Then added in an undertone: "Even if we do have help."

"What?" Seth asked sitting up as James drained the last of his drink.

James coughed realizing what he said then replied, "Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about it."

Seth watched as the Marine ordered another drink, obvioulsy nervous Seth would continue to press the subject. Seth knew what ever the Marine had let slip was classified, so didn't, but couldn't help adding, "You should learn to be more careful with information, you could prove to be a liability if captured."

The marine nodded his head, glad Seth hadn't pressured him for the information.

"I should be going," Seth said standing up. "I'm overseeing the repairs on the Bridge with the Captain and Commander in the briefing. Good-bye Lt."

"See you around, sir"

[Reliant121]

"Give me another sensor read out from the edge of the Nebula. I dont like that displacement in the gases, its too large to be a random event. Run a spectral analysis on the particle compesition. Come on, Centurion, This is one of the newest and most advanced ships in the fleet, and the sensor unit is no exception!" D'Tyra said pacing behind the sensor and tactical stations. She had ordered that the Lacron take a slightly longer route home. A blip on the sensors had drawn her attention. The klingons had so eliquantly accused her of "chasing ghosts". The Federation captains had made it relatively obvious of their displeasure at her taking leave of the fleet. It seemed that only W'Trisk had taken the time to have a modicum of trust for her. No matter.

"Particle compesition standard to the nebula, small metreon, hydrogren, helium....There is a slight temperature spike though, near the rear of the disturbance."

"The rear? As in...consistent for a engine heating the gas?" She asked, her mind racing.

"Aye, commander. That said, it is just as likely to be a random phenomenon. Our sensors would have detected something if it were there," The Centurion responded, staring blankly at the data in front of him.

"Not if it were a small object...like an escape pod or a shuttle...Do the Dominion even have shuttles?" She asked bluntly, causing a few surprised glances from the crew. They all smiled slightly, as she did. They were beginning to get used to this unconventional style of commanding a ship, at least...unconventional for a Romulan ship.

"That would make sense commander."

She spun about and made for her command chair. "Activate 2 disruptor banks, minimum output. Make it bright, but benign. I want them to be visually and, hopefully, technologically stunned. Helm, full impulse. Power to the tractor emitters." Planting herself on the command chair, she unclipped her hair and let its full length flow down to her neck. This was yet another rebellion against traditions of Romulus. But this time, it went unnoticed. She didnt care, and it seemed her crew didnt either.

"In range."

"Fire one shot from each weapon, if you destroy that pod I will fire you back to the station in one of ours, with no stabilizers online," She said, glancing back smiling. The tactical officer hadnt quite determined whether she was being sincere or joking. Best to be sure.

He fired the shots, and quickly caste the web of the green tractor beam. The pod was right there, as expected. He dragged the strange blue craft into the open shuttle hold.

"Hail the station...We have a package to deliver," She commanded.

[Mark]

USS Daystrom - Ten Forward Lounge

Holmes sat nursing his bourbon at his customary table in the far corner of the lounge. Even considering the rampant stupidity of most of the other people aboard, others quickly learned that most of the time he wanted to be left the hell alone. It had taken well over a dozen or so scathing conversations and earned him no less than three drinks tossed in his face, getting scolded by the XO twice, and one ice cream sundae inserted directly into the front of his trousers before people learned that when the doctor showed up, if you were at his table, you moved and left him the hell alone. Only two people dared to sit with him, Piggy and the Captain. With a chuckle, the thought how much that last notion sounded like a 21st century cartoon.

Piggy was simply not intimidated by Holmes, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to chase him off. Of course, there was something to be said when one's best and only real friend was a Tellerite. Drinking with the Captain was a novelty though. After the marathon surgery that saved the Ravage's chief engineer, Captain W'Trisk sat down and tried to commend Holmes' skill in saving the man. Holmes, as usual made some comment or other about talking till the Captain was blue in the face. W'Trisk, without missing a beat, snatched Holmes' cane off the side of the table, snapped it cleanly into kindling, smiled and dropped the remains directly in front of the Doctor, then sauntering off about his business.

Thus Holmes was completely taken aback when, three nights later, the Captain joined him again for a drink. They managed to have a civilized discussion and a stimulating debate for nearly an hour, before Holmes made what could admittedly have been a misjudgment when he referred to the Daystrom as a nearly obsolete space jalopy. Again, W'Trisk snatched Holmes' cane off the table ledge (this one being his favorite, the one with flames on it), and crushed IT into kindling, before returning the splinters to Holmes, and departing with a cordial nod.

The third time the Captain sat down to have a drink with Holmes, the Doctor was slightly distracted, and didn't bother to get in any very good verbal jabs. The Captain simply asked Holmes about his background, mother, and early career. After about 45 minutes, the Captain politely excused himself and headed for the door.

Holmes called out, "Forgetting something?" holding his cane in the air.

The Captain, with a deadpan straight face, replied "No need tonight, it seems."

And this was thus the dilemma that Dr. Holmes faced tonight. For some strange reason, he felt like a puppy, being housebroken, and his cane was the un-agreed upon newspaper. If Holmes was SURE that's what the Captain was up to, he would of course have to immediately retaliate by reprogramming the Captain's replicator to only produce pink spandex outfits. But, damn it, Holmes just WASN'T sure. And to be honest with himself, he was getting tired of waging war against the Captain. That damn Andorian always seemed to somehow one up the doctor.

Holmes was, for the first time, actually considering defeat, and accepting the Captain's authority when, like a divine message from the god's themselves, the answer presented itself at his table.

"Doctor Holmes" Petty Officer Kasper Nijhoff, stood ramrod straight looking down at Holmes like a damned walking, talking, calculator.

"Where?" Holmes replied in feigned confusion, looking all around.

"Right here." Kasper replied, looking slightly confused. "You are Dr. Holmes."

In a whisper, Holmes replied "Are you sure? Because I'd hate for us to be wrong about something like that."

Kasper stopped for a moment tilting his head slightly to the left, "Sir, I'm 99.999167% sure that you ARE in fact, Dr. Holmes."

Raising his eyebrows, the Doctor asked "Only 99.999167% sure?"

"Yes." Kasper continued "you see, my calculations have allowed for the possibility that you are some sort of shape shifter, or surgically altered spy. However, I've taken into the account that you have only left the ship once since this fleet departed from DS9, and ."

"Ok, I've got it" Holmes growled. "I guess I really am who you say I am. My god, man, you sound like a talking abacus. What do you want?"

"Lessons" Kasper replied.

"In what" Holmes asked

"Being like everybody else." Was the surprising answer.

"And you've come to me?" Holmes asked in disbelief? "Why in the HELL would you come to me?"

"I just left Counselor Devine's office." Kasper said with a completely straight face. "She put her face in both of her hands and told me to go home. Since our time together wasn't yet complete, it was obvious to me that she meant to say, go TO Holmes. So, here I am."

In sheer disbelief, Holmes asked the young Petty Officer again, "So what you're saying to me is that you want me to give you lessons on how to talk to, interact with, and deal with other people?"

"Yes." Was the simple and earnest reply.

With that one word the young man restored Holmes's faith. Holmes nodded and said "It will be my pleasure. I mean that."

And followed up with an evil chuckle.

[shran]

Personal log, Kasper Nijhoff

So, once again I find myself quite much alone in th universe. What seems a few months ago for me is in fact centuries in the past. My friends, relatives, they are all gone. The only people I know now are on this ship. Between them and me, a personal distance, varying from the occasional bump into each other to several meters away seeing someone meeting my eyes.
As utopian this Federation is said to be, i have sensed little of it. Studies of Federation history have shown colonies collapsing, genocide occurring, extinction of entire species by neglect to divert something as an asteroid, and so on. Paradise, always in your hand, and just beyond the reach of your hand.

Anyway, I feel lonely. People like me are quite scarce, not only because of so many aliens, also because of a severe change in the human population. Almost everyone seems to have an english name, whereas globalization should have mixed things far more equal.
Along with so many aliens, the autists seem to have largely disappeared. Would they have found the 'cure'? The counsellor won't tell me. And I don't think doctor holmes is going to tell me, or will tell me in far more direct terms.
As difficult as it already is socialising with humans, aliens obviously aren't an option. I speak their language. They speak mine, or rather, we all speak the lingua franca indirectly. However perfect it may be, it does not quite convey the meaning of my words. And I understand them, in terms of the message, but the context is a mystery to me. To clear that context, I hope either Counsellor Devine or Doctor Holmes can tell me how to.

Clearly, the Federation is not quite as perfect as she sometimes claims to be, as Asperger syndrome is one problem they definitely need to tackle yet.

[Mikey]

There was a moment of desultory silence after the recording of Taran'atar's actions on the battlecruiser's bridge had finished playing. Finally, Captain Kathforn of the IKS Mac'la stood. "All this proves is that he's willing to expend effort to maintain appearances. I say there's no reason to trust that... thing. He's bred - engineered - to make war, not for the sake of glory or honor, but simply for the sake of slaughtering his enemies. And make no mistake, my allies, his enemies include everyone who is not a Jem'Hadar or a Founder!"

"Please, captain," Grayling said without inflection, "calm down. I too was unaware of Taran'atar's presence, but I can vouch for the intent of the organization which sent him."

"You can vouch?!" the Klingon asked incredulously. "I care not if you can 'vouch' for their intentions. We came on this mission to work with you, not for you. We are under no compulsion to accept your assurances or your pet Jem'Hadar."

"Pet?" growled Taran'atar, stepping forward. "I sometimes think you people are too bone-headed to even fight."

"ENOUGH!" Mikey bellowed, standing on his chair. "Who in the icy hells are we supposed to be here to combat?" As every head in the room swiveled toward the shouting Andorian, Mikey stepped off the chair and turned toward Grayling. "If I may, commodore?" Grayling nodded, and Mikey continued, "Some of you know me by fighting alongside me recently; some of you know me by reputation; some of you may only get to know me by reviewing my record during the Dominion War, the destruction of the Tholian pirates and a terrorist cell some time ago, and the assault on the Neutronium Brotherhood some ten years back." Krem, among a few others, nodded in recognition. Mikey's antennae swept around seeking signs of acceptance among the crowd as he went on, "I made a long-standing habit, when it came to Jem'Hadar, of shooting first, then shooting again, then shooting some more, then not asking any questions. I was as outraged by this situation as any of you. But the wise warrior knows how to use every advantage; we are in the Gamma Quadrant with no reinforcements available and a temporary docking ring for a station, gearing to go face-to-face against completely unknown odds. My heart may never trust a Jem'Hadar, but my brain can't help but want to make use of every tool in the box to help ensure success."

Mikey paused, gauging the room. The Starfleet officers were going to toe Grayling's line no matter what, and respected Lewis enough to go along. The Romulans appreciated secrecy and subterfuge. The Klingons, however, were proud and stubborn and not easily convinced. Mikey pitched his tone just a bit lower. "Well, my comrades? Are we too proud of ourselves, too set in our ways, to seize the greatest chance for victory?"

"The whole situation displays a disturbing lack of faith," grumbled Kathforn petulantly.

"Indeed," Mikey agreed congenially. "The information of Taran'atar's presence was handled incorrectly. But all the cards are on the table now, and - as we say on Andoria - 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Taran'atar's own actions and history have shown where his goals are, and Captain Lewis' assurance is enough for me. Do we move on - do we accomplish what we came here to do?"

"Very well," accepted Kathforn. "Let it not be said that the representatives of the Klingon Empire shirked their duties."

"Excellent," Mikey said, and turned toward Rochey. "Perhaps the commander and the commodore can now begin to conduct a meeting - I'd like to know what the plans are for determining our next target, and how we'll be proceeding against it."

As Rochey scuttled forward to try and settle everyone and bring the meeting to order, Taran'atar slipped silently around to Mikey's side and placed a meaty hand gently on the Andorian's shoulder. "Thank you for your wise words," said the Jem'Hadar. "Surely you are an honored elder among your people."

Mikey spun to face the Jem'Hadar. "Make no mistake," he said, his face an emotionless mask, "you and I may need to work together, we may have short-term goals in common, and I may even defend that cooperation. But we are not friends. The last Jem'Hadar I saw this close tried to kill me, and ended up with his head on a pike. His kar'takin now decorates the wall of my office. If you ever put your hand on me again, you will lose it." Mikey turned back around and found his seat, ready to occupy himself with details of the upcoming assignment.

[Teaos]

Fletcher sat only half listening to the outraged arguing of the other captains, he had been to enough debriefings and meetings in his career to know when to listen and when to zone out.

The inclusion of a Dominion expert, Jem'hadar or not, was a useful addition to the mission, he had even discussed the curious lack of one with Commander Rochey and Commodore Greyling while they prepared the fleet at DS9.

Debating it was useless, the Jem'hadar was here, he had at least nominally proven his loyalty, and most importantly, this wasn't a democracy, despite what the Klingons may tell themselves, this fleet was headed and commanded by the Federation. They had secured passage through the wormhole and been granted access to operate a war fleet in the territory of the Dominion. If the Klingons decided to split from the fleet they would be apprehended with in days and either destroyed or escorted back to the Alpha Quadrant to the disgrace of themselves and the empire, Fletcher knew that, and more importantly the Klingons knew that.

"How long do you think I should let this go on?" Greyling asked from Fletchers left.

"A few more minutes at least, they need to get it out of their systems, better now than in front of the crews" Fletcher replied glancing down the table to where one of the Klingon captains was insisting the Jem'hadar were with out honour and thus dangerous.

"While a crude assessment it is still a valid point, what has this Jem'Hadar done for us apart from help crack the computer of a ship we had already captured? Surely we could have done this ourselves with but a little more time?" D'Tyra asked from across the table in a whisper that still seemed to carry its self easily to both men.

"He has a adequate history of service and has so far proven to be loyal, although I must admit even I am not fully sold on his loyalty" Grayling answered while looking up at the Jem'Hadar who was stoutly taking the verbal assault in his stride "I think its time to move this along."

"Attention" Greyling called out cutting off Captain Lewis "The point is moot, Taran'atar's is here under the order of the admiralty and is now under my jurisdiction, the information he can provide could prove to be invaluable, possibly even preventing us chasing sensor ghosts" Greyling added as a obvious reminder to the Klingons about their role in the Pegasus disaster.

"We have delivered a blow to the industrial power of our enemy, quite probably limiting their ship building capabilities and even resupply power. And above all expectations, through the combined efforts of the Ravage and the Valkyrie we have captured an enemy cruiser" Greyling said with a nod towards the respective captains of the vessels.

"As we speak our people are combing the ship for information, a full download of the computer core is underway to later be analyzed, as for now, we have ships to repair and injuries to heal, this was the first battle of this action but certainly not the last. For now we're dismissed, I expect reports from all of you on the status of your ships and crews and plans on what to do with our newly acquired vessel, I know several of you have already proposed plans for it, but we have at least a fortnight before we can even think of doing anything with it" Greyling ordered as the assembled captains rose.

"For now everyone rest and recuperate, I dare say our men could use a break."

[Mark]

USS Ravage

Another volley of weapons fire from the Dominion Battleship stuck the Ravage causing one of the aft stations to explode as an EPS conduit overloaded. Lieutenant Uzume's body flew threw the air and landed atop Captain Lewis' corpse, where it lay beneath a support beam. In a moment of awkward reflection, Sinclair thought that it looked like, even in death, the security chief was trying to protect her Captain.

"Report!" Sinclair ordered.

"Shields are gone!" Devi called though the haze of smoke and sparks "Main power is offline. The weapons pod has been completely destroyed and the port nacelle has been sheared off, sir! McDuff reports he's got fires raging uncontrollably through Main Engineering. We've got hull breaches on decks 3 through 8 and 15 through 22. Emergency force fields have failed, and the decks are sealed off."

O'Carroll called out from his post, "Sir, we DO have whatever phaser power is left in the batteries, as well as helm control, so we're not completely out of the fight yet!"

"Message coming in from the enemy ship, sir." Devi announced. "They're calling for our surrender."

"What's the status of the enemy's ship?" Sinclair asked.

Devi quickly checked what was left of her sensors "Well sir, it's obvious they've been in a fight. They have several hull breaches from our torpedoes, and they're running at about two thirds power. But they still have weapons and shields."

Another blast from the Battleship's weapons rocked the ship, this time tossing Devi out of her seat before her station exploded. She quickly moved to the last of the functional secondary consoles, expertly reconfiguring it.

"That's it sir. McDuff reports we've got a coolant leak and there isn't anything he can do. Two minutes till a core breach."

Cursing everything he could think of, Sinclair ordered "Abandon ship."

With that order, a feminine computer voice announced, "Simulation complete. Test results Failed." Suddenly the Ravage's bridge shifted back into the black and gold pattern of the holodeck, leaving Sinclair standing only with his shipmates who were picking themselves up off the floor.

"Better luck next time, flyboy" Uzume quipped, giving Sinclair a sympathetic pat on the cheek.

Sinclair replied grumpily, "I just LOVED your performance Leia. I seriously doubt an overloading panel would send you flying halfway over the bridge."

O'Carroll, who had been trying not to laugh said, "Hey, we're all off duty and this is YOUR test Commander, so it's only fair we can have a bit of fun at it."

Devi walked over to Captain Lewis and asked, "Why DID you ask us to participate in this anyway, Captain? Holodeck characters would have worked just as well."

Rubbing his left shoulder, Lewis replied "For several reasons actually. First, the extra practice won't hurt. Second, holodeck characters wouldn't react EXACTLY like you all would, and third I wanted Jordan to experience the idea that as a Captain, sometimes friends and collogues die right in front of you in battle."

Smiling the Captain added "Plus, it was fun. Thanks everybody, dismissed. Commander, stay for a minute."

The rest of the bridge crew filed out, as Lewis turned to Sinclair. The simulation was quite simple. Defend a colony belonging to a randomly selected species from a single Dominion Battleship. This was Sinclair's second time on this scenario, and his second failure. In all the other simulations, including a re-enactment of a famous battle (based off the Reliant incident of a century ago), standard ship to ship combat, fleet battles, convoy duty, first contact, diplomacy, and even the Kobyashi Maru (Sinclair found himself at Wolf 359) he had easily passed each one with extremely high marks. If Sinclair didn't manage to pass the test the next time though, the failure would go on his record and would interfere with the command that Starfleet would be giving this man sooner rather than later. Unless he could pass all of these tests, he'd never command a ship of the line. At best, maybe an escort or a frigate.

"Ok, tell me what you did wrong." Lewis ordred.

"Well, looking back on it, I should have attacked from the Z axis." Sinclair began. "And I've got an idea about using unmanned shuttles as guided anti matter bombs. I've got to even up the odds. They just outgun us by too much."

Lewis bit his lip in frustration. He was bound by ethics and regulations NOT to help his first officer with the solution to this test. When HE took it, he saw the solution right away and quickly passed. Sinclair's love and devotion for his crew is what was blinding him to the solution. A Captain has to ALWAYS remember where his first duty is.

"It's not always about tactics, Jordan." Lewis began. "Many times in history, a weaker ship defeated the stronger one, so there is always a way. But that isn't the point of this test."

Sinclair looked at his Captain. Not that long ago, he had found what he thought was his life's ambition. He was HAPPY as a Chief Engineer. No matter what everybody else expected of him, HE never really cared about command. Suddenly, Captain Lewis had opened his eyes to a whole new world, one which sometimes scared him how well he fit in. He'd just as soon space himself as disappoint Captain Lewis, but Jordan honestly didn't have the first clue what to do.

"What is, sir?" Sinclair asked.

"Finding the answer is part of the test as well, Jordan." A sudden inspiration hit him. "If I were you, I'd talk to somebody who's been around for a long time with a lot of experience."

Nodding, Sinclair left.

Lewis stood there hoping that Sinclair could take a hint.
_______________________________________________

USS Ravage - Ten Forward Lounge

McDuff was sitting back in a specially modified chair designed to monitor his vitals since he refused to stay in sickbay, looking out the view port when Sinclair came in. From across the room, he could tell the kid had a problem. McDuff would have to remember to catch the kid in a poker game on of these days.

Sinclair came up to McDuff, "Master Chief, you got a minute?"

"Sure Commander" the crusty old space dog replied "What's on your mind?"

So, after a few false starts, Sinclair told him everything and McDuff listened in silence, nodding every so often. When Sinclair finished, McDuff scratched his beard and replied, "All I can say is something I once heard in a seminar when I was just getting out of training as a raw Crewman. We has a guest speaker, Vice Admiral Pavel Chekov and I've often remembered a certain part of his speech having to do with duty. He reminded us that our first duty was to the ship and crew, but above that, was duty to the mission. I hope that helps."

Sinclair got a thoughtful look in his face and said, "It actually does Master Chief, thank you. Hurry up and get well, we need you back in Engineering." With that, he got up and left. McDuff sat thinking that any man willing to ask advise like he just did would go very, very, far.
____________________________________________

USS Ravage

"Shields at twelve percent!" Devi called though the haze of smoke and sparks "Main power is offline. The phaser core is completely melted! McDuff reports he's got fires raging uncontrollably through Main Engineering. We've got hull breaches all over, and I can't tell you were because internal sensors are down.

O'Carroll called out from his post, "Sir, we DO have torpedoes for now, as well as helm control, so we're not completely out of the fight yet!"

"Message coming in from the enemy ship, sir." Devi announced. "They're calling for our surrender."

"What's the status of the enemy's ship?" Sinclair asked.

Devi quickly checked what was left of her sensors "Not nearly as bad as we are. We've knocked out they're warp drive, and disabled they've ventral weapons.

Uzume announced from an aft console "Core is going critical Commander!"

"Lorcan, lay in a collision course with that ship." Sinclair ordered. "Take us in where her weapons can't get us and don't let them get away. Devi, figure out an EXACT impact time and set every last torpedo you can to detonate at that same second. This will take precision timing. Uzume, tell McDuff if he lets that core go before I give him permission, he loses his pension."

O'Carroll looked back over his shoulder as if to make sure he heard Sinclair correctly. If they died again, Sinclair failed and that was that.

"You heard me Lorcan!" Sinclair barked. "There are 10,000 people in that colony who are going to die if we don't stop them, and only a few hundred of us!"

Once everybody realized Sinclair was sure of his decision, everybody got moving. Lewis, who early on had been injured and rushed off to sickbay looked on with pride. The kid got it.

When Ravage rammed the Dominion ship, the holodeck went completely dark for just an instant, but Lewis knew that to Sinclair it was an eternity. Then the computer announced, "Simulation complete. Test results Passed. Score 98%" and the room shifted back to its grid. After just another instant, his crew crowed with success and all decorum was lost. O'Carroll was pounding Sinclair on the back, and both Devi and Uzume kissed the grinning and blushing first officer on either cheek. Lewis walked up with a broad grin and his hand outstretched.

"Well done Commander!" he said warmly grasping Sinclair's hand "Very well done. Congratulations are in order. You even beat my score."

Devi raised an eyebrow at hearing this and locked gazes with Captain Lewis, who imperceptibly shook his head and smirked. Sinclair was too caught up in his moment of glory to notice, however. She stifled her grin and made a mental note to ask the Captain later why he didn't just tell Sinclair that he'd just tied the score the Captain got, the first time around.

"Let's go everyone." The Captain announced "The first AND second rounds are on Jordan."

Everybody began to file to the door as Sinclair stopped suddenly. He felt not one but TWO hands on his rear end giving each cheek a firm pinch. Looking left and right, Commander Patel and Lieutenant Uzume followed the Captain innocently out the door.

With a big grin, Sinclair followed.