Compile summary Your adoring CSO ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique, Deck 15, Cloaking Control, OPS, Enbsign Mason Garrett, 1331) (USS Mystique, Deck 15, Cloaking Control, Ensign (jg)Bartok, 1335) (USS Mystique, Ready Room, CO & 2O , Captain Vanyssa Winters & Lt. Hhril, 1344) (USS Mystique, Deck 4, Security Personnel Wilkes and Krane, 1440) (USS Mystique, Personal Quarters, OPS, Lt (jg) HHril, 2150) (USS Mystique - hallway - Ensign Sarah Nevada - 2151) (USS Mystique - waste disposal and recycling tanks - marines Dickenson, Charles and James - 2203) (USS Mystique - quarters - Dickenson - 2224) (USS Mystique - quarters - Charles and James - 2228) (USS Mystique - waste disposal and recycling tanks - marines Dickenson, Charles and James - 2259) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Begin compile Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique, Deck 15, Cloaking Control, OPS, Enbsign Mason Garrett, 1331) Garrett was analyzing the results of his first simulation when the captain's came over the voice comm. "Captain Winters to Lt. HHril. HHril, are you in a place to talk?" "I am currently in cloaking control, Captain," Hhril replied. Lt. Hhril replied, looking up from the console where he had been working. "Give me one moment and I shall procure an office." He quickly made his way out of the control room and into one of the engineering offices. The lieutenant re-emerged a few minutes later with a curiously serious expression. "Mr. Garrett." he said as he approached the aOPS. "I have other duties that I must attend to. Take over in my absence." "Yessir," Garrett replied. "We'll get the job done." "Thank you." Hhril replied and offered a slight smile. "Keep me appraised." He turned and headed out the door. Garrett looked over at Bartok. "I wonder what's going on, now." (Reply: Bartok) Garrett shrugged and turned his attention back to his own work. "Silent running simulation shows nothing," he told Bartok. "I'll download the data into my PADD then start the first combat simulation." Once the second sim was going he moved over to stand beside Bartok and let him look at the figures on his PADD's readout. "I assume from your silence, you haven't had much luck either." (Reply: Bartok) "It's still early in the process. So far we don't know much of what it is or what it does," Garrett said. "We only know its there and it came from outside the cloaking programs." (Reply: Bartok) Garrett turned back to the display that showed a graphic model of two ships, the Dian Chang and the Mystique in combat. The sim was set for a speed five times faster than real time. The graphics moved across the screen like small game icons maneuvering and shooting at each other. In one corner of the display screen data kept updated figures for energy consumption, hypothetical damage. At one point the Chang's shielding was weakening and one of its torpedo bays taken out. But at the same time the Mystique had lost power to its main phasers and one torp bay was gone, plus the shields were almost depleted. Garrett chuckeld lightly at the irony. Computer sims knew no loyalty only hypothetical formulas. The first combat sim took about five minutes before he Mystique was marked "DESTROYED." "Set up for another combat simulation, traitor," Garrett rebuked the computer mildly. "Save data from first simulation and download to designated PADD." "Parameters for Combat Simulation Traitor have not been specified," the computer said, utterly unoffended. "Data saved.Downloading to PADD 039-F25. " "Rerun last combat simulation showing the Mystique using its cloaking device until it is no longer operational," the ensign amended. "Rerunning combat simulation 'USS Dian Chang, USS Mystique,'" the computer replied, and the two icons came up again. "We lost the first fight," Garrett said to Bartok. "We're dead." (Reply Bartok) Bartok was an interesting person. Garrett looked forward to that long conversation in 10-forward with the Klingon Engineer. He was also looking forward to spending a little time with Cynthia Darson at the earliest opportunity. The simulation continued. The simulated Mystique remained cloaked throughout the combat. The Dian Chang sim started with patterned spreads of photon torpedoes. The Mystique remained cloaked even when its readings indicated major damage that rendered the cloak essentially ineffective, which in turn brought the full fury of the Dian Chang's enormous arsenal to bear on the helpless Mystique. Since the Mystique only took damage the and never fired back, the second simulation took less than three minutes. He checked the data and set up for another variation of the simulation, instructing the computer to show the Mystique using cloaks only as long as it was feasibly usable. This time he reset the time lapse from one:five to one:ten, redoubling the sim's speed. As the computer ran the third combat sim, Garrett reset for six more variations of the same program before the Mystique icon exploded again. The possible variations on the sim was practically infinite but Garrett was hoping it would take no more than ten to provide the clues he and Bartok needed. A low grumbling of his stomach, suddenly reminded Garrett he had not eaten for almost six hours. He turned to one of the technicians working dutifully at his station. "Is there a food replicator around here?" The technician pointed to an office entrance. "In there." "Thank you. Are you hungry Bartok?" --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique, Deck 15, Cloaking Control, Ensign (jg)Bartok, 1335) Garrett and Bartok were bent over the cloak consol deep in thought when the door opened and Hhrill returned. Out of reflex Bartok straightened to attention before remembering the Federation was not that strict between its officers, In the Klingon Defense Force that would get you one of any number of quick but painful deaths, perhaps two. Hhrill spoke with Garrett for a moment while Bartok once again observed the Romulan. He had finally decided to himself at least that maybe “this” specific Romulan might be able to be trusted even though it went against everything he had ever been taught but also decided he would never really be comfortable around him. ~maybe if he grew his hair longer and perhaps a beard and mustache of suitable length~ thought the engineer mentally Klingoning the Romulan. ~That might make him more…..acceptable~. With that thought Bartok exploded in a deep guttural roar of laughter before finally bringing himself back under control. (Reply Hhrill, Garrett) After giving the Klingon a startled look Hhrill said something else to Garrett turned and left. As Garrett came back to the work station he said out load “Wonder what’s going on now”? Who knows? Replied the Klingon. We’re on a Federation ship filled with Humans, Betazeds a few Klingons and at least one Romulan. We’re in a civil war, half of each side are telepaths and our hold is full of enemy Marines. Anything could be going on right now. (reply Garrett) Garrett returned to his work for a moment and looked back towards the Klingon. “From your silence I guess you haven’t found anything yet either? Bartok turned and displayed both the PADDS he was using; he had linked the Federation PADD to the Klingon one he had brought from his cabin. ”Actually I have found a number of small viruses but they were too easy to find. It is my guess that they are there as decoys and the main one is still hiding”. He showed the two devices to Garrett along with their readouts and the list of viruses they had discovered. About that time the Klingon PADD beeped and displayed information. Bartok transferred the info to the Federation PADD not knowing if Garrett could read Klingon or not. The PADD now showed an unknown virus. It’s still early in the decoding process said the Human, we can’t tell much about it only that it working outside the cloaking process. “Yes”, said Bartok, “It seems to exist outside the actual program and only activates when the cloak is in use”. Garrett began running simulations while Bartok kept watching the PADDS to see what action was being taken by the newly discovered virus. “We lost the first fight exclaimed Garrett”. “We’re dead”. The Klingon stood and looked around the room, up and down the corridors, shading his eyes with his hands as if searching a great distance. (Reply Garrett) I am looking for the ship of the dead, If I am dead I expect to join my ancestors in STO-VO-KOR. He said with as straight a face as possible not knowing if the young Human would understand the reference or not. Humans did not always understand Klingon humor. The two ran and reran the simulations over again, each time gaining new information and closing the gap on the elusive bug when there was a low rumbling from the vicinity of Garrett. "Are you hungry or was that a challenge?" Asked the Klingon with mock sternness ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique, Ready Room, CO & 2O , Captain Vanyssa Winters & Lt. Hhril, 1344) Vanyssa was pacing back and forth again, something that she tended to do way too much recently. When Hhril finally appeared, she smiled to him. It was a thin smile, a bland smile. It was the best that she could do under the present circumstances. "Captain." Hhril offered as a greeting as he strode into the room and stood opposite her. "You wanted to see me?" "Yes, come in, Lt." She said, offering him a seat on her couch. "Tell me, what are your impressions on Mr. Dema." She said, frowning slightly. HHril took his usual seat on the sofa, considering the question that had been posed to him. "To date, Captain," he began, "Ensign Dema has proven to be a competent officer." He paused, recalling their work together aboard the Conestoga Class ship the day before. "I have, however, found him to be extremely rough around the edges... almost to a fault. He seems to hold little regard to Starfleet protocols. But I must say that my experience dealing with him is limited." He paused again, shifting his position on the sofa to better face her. "I understand from his service record that you actually requested his transfer. Do you feel it is possible that he could be the saboteur?" "Before today, no." She said honestly. "Now, I am not so sure. It is true that I did request his transfer when I left the Nimitz. He has had, and continues to have many problems with Starfleet rules and regulations. Frankly, I am a little surprised that he managed to graduate the Academy. It could all be an elaborate act, but I didn't think so. He had so much potential, and I couldn't see him staying on the Nimitz. I thought I could train it out of him, that he could be a stellar officer given time." She got up and went to look out the window. "You know that I am a telepath, and as such forbidden from reading the minds of others without their consent. I wish that it wasn't so strong a compulsion and that I had probed Mr. Dema. I would like to know one way or the other." She felt a little better for admitting that. "Your service record is ... politely sterile in certain areas. From reading around the lines, were you a member of Starfleet Intelligence? Are you now?" She asked, turning back around. "I warn you that I am monitoring your answer, so please answer honestly." There were times, as Captain, that she could ignore the telepathic moral laws to protect her ship. She had spent a lot of time thinking about it, and decided that this was one of those times. She would have to make a note of it in her log. Her heart ached that she couldn't trust anyone. Oo'lish she trusted. She'd probed Oo'lish. And she trusted Richard Lee. The others, those she was not so sure about. HHril was slightly surprised with the blunt, albeit warranted question... given the circumstances. "I am not now, nor was I ever, a member of Starfleet intelligence." he answer in the most clear and truthful voice he could muster. "But even if I was," he continued. "That would be, as you no doubt know, the answer that I would be sworn to give." He cleared his voice before continuing. "That being said, Captain, I was a member of the Tal Shiar from a very early age. Much of my time at Starfleet academy was spent passing under the radar, as that is what I was trained to do during my formative years." He looked at her, trying to sense if she was able to tell if he was telling the truth or not. "But I will say this, it was not a coincidence that I ended up on this ship." She nodded, knowing he was telling the truth about Starfleet intelligence. As for the Tal Shiar, well, she would have to hear that story another time. "I would love to hear how a Romulan spy ended up a Starfleet Lt, but that can wait for another time, one not filled with crises. Maybe over dinner perhaps." She turned away, looking back out at the nebula and the faint hint of stars beyond it. "I suppose that you have no plans to tell me why you were sent to my ship because I do not need to know at this moment in time, yes?" She turned back around, a faintly ironic grin on her face. HHril smiled softly and reassuringly. "That is correct, Sir. And I can only assure you that my presence here is for your benefit and that of the ship." "I need to know, in your estimation, what is the chance that Dema is the spy we are looking for, and what other alternatives might have happened to him, for us to not be able to find him. Give me alternative scenarios, Hhril." And she rubbed her arms, suddenly cold with one of the possibilities that had just occurred to her. HHril considered the question for a moment before answering. "I do not believe him to be the spy. Certainly not the one in charge. It would be too high profile a position to work efficiently from. It is always possible that he has been recruited into their ranks however. But as I said earlier, I see no proof of that. And the fact that he brought his sister aboard ship, and the relationship that the two of them have... I don't believe that he would put her in danger. To speak to his character, he may have difficulty with Starfleet, but one thing has been very apparent from the first interaction I witnessed between Dema and yourself. He is loyal to you." HHril paused and shifted on the sofa. "Although that loyalty could be a ruse. An act put on for your benefit from your earliest encounters with him aboard the Nimitz. A way to ensure that he was posted to the Mystique. Again, this is highly unlikely, but all the possibilities must be addressed." Another pause as he formulated his thoughts. "More likely is that Ensign Dema has been injured and is unable to report in. At last check, he was getting updates on repairs to offensive and defensive systems. Shields. Phasers. The torpedo launchers. The patrols will be doing full sweeps of the ship. Top to bottom. If he is here, we will find him." Again he shifted on the sofa. "The last possibility is that he has been incapacitated or even killed by the spy or others that he, or she is working with. If this is the case, finding Mr. Dema becomes more difficult, but all the more important. He may know who it is that we are looking for. He may have seen or heard something that could help us. Forgive me for being so blunt, but even his dead body may leave us with some clues as to who we are dealing with." HHril knew that his last statement would have a strong impact on the Captain, but did not want to sugar coat the situation. "In an attempt to minimize the propagation of any stories, I have instructed all security teams to report only to you, Major Lee, or myself. One way or another... we will find him." "I don't trust that it isn't him." Vanyssa said. "Something in my gut tells me that he is involved with them, somehow, and it's not something innocent like the kid is injured." Vanyssa sat back down on the couch. "Can I trust you, Hhril?" She asked softly, showing how hard it was for her, a counselor, someone who was supposed to trust in the goodness of all beings, to be stuck in this position, a position where she couldn't trust anyone. Vanyssa felt very vulnerable at the moment. HHril looked across the sofa at the Captain. Her beauty was stunning. Her features fair. Her eyes piercing. She certainly did not look the part of a hardened Starfleet Captain in a time of war. The skill and strength were most certainly there... under the soft exterior. And when she spoke of her 'gut', you could tell that she was right for the part. He reached across and touched her hand. "That is, of course, not a question that I can truly answer for you. You must decide on that yourself. But I hope that you believe that you can trust me, Captain." he said. "And more importantly, given the circumstances, you must. At least for the time being. I know that there are a lot of questions that need answers. And in time, those answers will come. But if we are to get out of our current dilemma in one piece, then you must trust me... as I trust you." Vanyssa looked up at Hhril, suddenly feeling like a lost child. Her eyes unfocused for a second, and then refocused on him, feeling very very alone. "What do we know about this probe." She said, not liking the way her feelings were turning. She was becoming quite hedonistic in her old age. The proximity to Hhril made her heart beat just a little faster. He was strong, in a way that other men were not. She wanted, needed that strength to lean on. HHril took the change in subject as a sign of un-comfort from the CO. He withdrew his hand and took a deep, audible breath before beginning. "I have had limited time to work on the probe. At first glance, it appears to be a simple subspace relay device. But it is much more than that. We already know that it houses a miniaturized version of the Federation cloaking device along with an advanced power pack and storage unit for a relay. Why do you ask, Captain?" he asked, suddenly aware that the question, given the conversation up to this point, seemed completely out of place. Vanyssa relayed the data that had been recovered from the enemy marine. She also reached over and placed her hand on Hhril's leg, running her hand up and down it idly, her nails scratching against his uniform leg. HHril's right hand rose to his mouth, the index finger along the bridge of his nose, as he considered what the Captain had relayed. "So not only is the Mystique itself on the search and destroy list, but we are carrying a device that, for some reason, makes the target already strapped to our backs blink bright red." He looked at the Captain, a look of concern evident on his face, too enraptured with his own thoughts to even notice the Captains hand. "Repairs are near completion. With your permission, I would like to take some time to work on the probe and try to find out why it is so important to our enemies in this sector. Anything to gain the upper hand." "Of course. Please be careful with it. Captain Lee will be here tomorrow, and will want the probe in as undamaged a condition as possible." Vanyssa's fingers were slowly inching higher, again, unbeknownst to her. "Any other problems, Lt?" She said, looking up at him, wondering why she was feeling the way she was. She flushed, snatching her hand back, and stood up. HHril had taken no notice of the Captains hand, thinking it to be, perhaps, a common act amongst Betazoids and their friends. But her reaction to her own actions seemed to tell a different story. "There is something that I should tell you, something personal, about before I was given command of the Myste." She said very carefully. HHril straightened in his seat, uncertain what he should be preparing himself for. She faced the window and began to talk, very quietly. "My second to last mission, on the Nimitz, right before I was made first officer, we were scanning a section of space. The section was a portal into an alternate universe, THE alternate universe. We were captured and counterparts from that Universe took our place. While there, I was... implanted with the personality of one of the women. The implanted personality began to subsume my own, and eventually took over. Since then, I've had some... tendencies ... that are not my own. Needs, desires, that were not there beforehand. Dr. Mias came along to the Myste mainly to monitor my long-term recovery from that experience. I am not doing as well as I would like at the moment." She rubbed her arms, cold, lonely and sad. And desperately in need of comfort. "Captain!" he offered simply to the honest outpouring from his superior. He rose and walked over to where she stood. "Those 'tendencies' aside, your performance to date has been exemplary in my opinion. And besides, officers who develop friendships, often times make for the strongest teams." He placed his hands on the Captains shoulders. "You are not alone, Captain. We are in this together. You. Me. The entire crew. You can take comfort in that fact. You can take pride in that fact. And you should." He offered her a smile, showing his support. The feel of Hhril so close to her made things deep in her tight. It gave her a need for something he wasn't offering. "Just the fact that you call me Captain rather than my given name shows the gulf between us, the fact that there can never be a friendship." She turned back to the window. "You say that my performance has been exemplary. If it were, I wouldn't've gotten us into the situation we were in. What is the first rule of being CO? That you preserve your ship and your crew. Well, my ship is in shambles and my crew is dead or wounded. I've lost most of the defensive force." She finished, venting her emotions, her worries and her fears. "And what is going to happen with Captain Lee comes tomorrow and sees the mess I made of my first command? She hasn't been out of spacedock more than a month, Hhril!" "Cap... Vanyssa, it is not for lack of want on my part." he said as he spun her back around to look at him. "But my sense of duty comes first." He gently raised her face by her chin so that her gaze met his. "It always has, and it always will. Duty to Starfleet, and duty to you, as my Captain. As for your performance. You have met your first rule of commanding a starship. Your ship is in one piece and your crew, for the most part, is alive. We were ambushed, and we have a traitor aboard. Given the circumstances, I think that they should give you a medal for holding things together. The measure of a Captain is not in their ability to have the perfect solution, but in their ability to lead and instill confidence in those around them, so that they trust and believe that what they are doing is right and for the greater good. You have done that." Vanyssa felt the power of his hand holding her chin up to look into his eyes. "Are you sure?" She whispered. "I... every time I close my eyes I see the death of the enemy MCO. It was a death I had to order to get the information I needed. I've never sent anyone to their death before, Hhril." Her blue eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. "Dealing with death is part of being in command." he said, continuing to reassure her. "This time, you ordered the death of an enemy, and I can see how hard that was for you to do. But Vanyssa, you did what you had to do. There is no wrong answer here. Whatever way you pick... if it is in the best interest of your crew and your ship, then that is the right answer at that point in time." He let go of her chin and let his hand fall back on her shoulder. "One day, you may be forced to order a member of your crew, even... a friend, to do something that may cause their death. And when that happens, your answer will not be wrong. It will be the right answer, given the circumstances you had to work with, and so, will make you a stronger Captain." "So the textbooks say." She said quietly, leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips. She meant it to be a chaste kiss, but warmth sprung up between them, as well as a bit of an electric shock. She broke the kiss and looked at him with wide eyes. It had been meant as a thank you, between friends. She turned away from him then. "There is a difference between ordering a death at a distance and ordering it while it is being done right in front of your eyes." She said, very softly. "Have you ever killed a person, Hhril ?" "I have." answered the ch'Rihan as images flashed through his mind, wiping away the sensation of the kiss. "Several... actually." His past held many contradictions to the person he was today. "In the line of duty." He smiled at her, trying to suppress the memories that were flooding him. "It's not something... I like to think about, but it has helped to make me the person that I am today." Vanyssa thought about that for a few moments. She could tell that there was something that was bothering Hhril, and as a Counsellor, she had to poke at it. "Would you tell me about them?" She asked quietly, part of her hoping the answer was no. "No!" he said, rather emphatically. "I mean, another time would be more appropriate." he said, checking himself. "Perhaps over that dinner you were mentioning. When all of this is over, I could cook for you, if you like. Real cooking... not from a replicator." Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. "You know how to cook ? I love food. Real food. On the Nimitz Devan used to cook for me and my god, I love real food." She smiled. "I don't want to hear about it over dinner," Her eyes grew cold and distant. "I'm not sure that I want to hear about it at all." And she shivered, seeing Oo'lish cutting the defenseless man's throat. "I knew that Oo'lish was a killer... But I never knew how easily she did kill. I am scared now." She said quietly. "I know she's fanatically devoted to me, but I know very little about her. She's never encouraged familiarity." She shook her head. HHril smiled at the thought of sharing a meal with someone. Since his arrival on board the Mystique, he had taken most of his meals in private, not wanting to mix with the ships population. "I do cook, and I would be happy to have you sample some of it. As for the conversation, it can wait for another time." That actually suited him just fine. The less he had to divulge about those events, the happier he was. "So you don't think that Dema is the spy. Who, What, HOW do you go about catching a spy?" She said, changing subjects yet again. She was the Queen of non-sequitur, and very very good at it. HHril found himself following her lead, yet again, to another topic of discussion. "No." he said flatly. "I do not believe that Ensign Dema is the spy. There is nothing to substantiate the claim at the present time. As for how to catch a spy... there is no right way or wrong way." he said. "This is not an exact science we are dealing with. There are many variables... many intangibles that we have to consider. My suggestion is to shake things up forcing them to make the next move. We wait and we watch. We already have a few clues to go on, and once the ship is on the move, I will make solving that very puzzle my top priority." Vanyssa replied simply, "What do you propose, my Lt?" She said with a smile. She didn't like the idea of shaking things up, but she didn't much like the idea of having her ship being under attack from the inside, either. "I'm not sure yet." he replied. "I'll let you know." he finished with a wry smile. Vanyssa smiled back, and then the two sat in companionable silence, for a few minutes before Hhril excused himself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique, Deck 4, Security Personnel Wilkes and Krane, 1440) "If this hasn't been one of the longest days of my tour, I don't know what you would call it." young crewman Wilkes said to his patrol partner. "We have been all over these decks, and have not found a d*mned thing. I wish the tube crawlers would get internal sensors running like they should." referring to the engineering personnel. "Patience kid." replied the much experienced Jack Krane. "We got orders, and we are gonna follow 'em. Even if it means walkin' up and down decks 3 and 4 'til tomorrow mornin'." Krane had enlisted in Starfleet years before as a pilot flying transport shuttles along various routes. He knew what it was to be patient, and had vowed that he would teach Wilkes, (who was 20 years his junior) a thing or two about it. "I still think there is something better for us to be doing than walking up and down these hallways." retorted the 21 year old. "Last I checked, phasers were still offline. I mean... we are right here. What could it hurt to poke our heads in and see what we can do to help out." "You wanna poke yer head in there kid, be my guest." said Krane with a shake of his head. "It'll give me a chance to scan in there anyways." he added under his breath. "Good." said Wilkes as he stepped up to the door and pushed the keypad to open the door. "Lets see what is going on here." Both men stepped into the room to find, to their surprise, no activity. "Where the h..." "Shhhhh!" hissed Krane, un-holstering his phaser. "Somethin' ain't right." he whispered. His eyes checked the readings from his tricorder as his fingers danced over the buttons. "I'm gettin' somethin'" he said. "From over there." They had not entered the array housing on their first trip down deck 4. Krane had not wanted to disturb the work that should have been going on on the otherside of the door, contenting himself with a reading for Dema from the outside. Now, he was cursing himself, and happy the younger, more impulsive Wilkes had made him go in. He approached a wall panel. "I got somethin' here, kid." he said as he closed the tricorder. A quick yank, and the panel was off, showing the comm badge attached between two conduits. "Crap." "What do you have there old man." shot off Wilkes, not realizing the importance of what was happening. "Security detachment Charlie to Lt. HHril" said Krane after tapping his badge. "What is it?" asked Wilkes again. =/\=Go ahead.=/\= came the voice of the second officer. "Sir, its Crewman Krane here. Wilkes and I just found ourselves Ensign Dema's comm badge." "We did?!?" said a shocked Wilkes. =/\=Where are you Crewman?=/\= inquired the 2O "Deck 4. Dorsal phaser housin'. It was in behind a panel between two conduits." =/\=Any sign of Ensign Dema?=/\= "None, Sir." replied Wilkes, happy to get his two cents in. "And noone else, for that matter, Sir." added Krane. "Not a techie in sight." =/\=Keep looking, Gentlemen. We have to find him. HHril out.=/\= "None, Sir!" repeated Krane, mocking his young partner. "What do you know." said Wilkes with a smile. "If it wasn't for me, we never would have come in here, and we never would have found the badge." "WE!" said Krane, eyes wide and eyebrows arched. "WE didn't find it kid. You were yappin' away. I found it." and he tapped his partner on the back. "Better luck next time." he added with a smile and a laugh. "Whatever." retorted the kid as the two men filed out of room to continue their search. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique, Personal Quarters, OPS, Lt (jg) HHril, 2150) It had been an incredibly trying day, and HHril had just stepped into his quarters for the first time since the early morning hours. He had been awake for approximatly 40 hours straight. That was still within his own physical limitations, but the Captain had given orders that all crewmembers were to take rest as to be in top condition. He had no intention of sleeping. He could go for another 15 hours easy. But the sandwhich from lunch was long gone, and he had not had a raktajino in hours. "Lights to 1/4." he said as he entered the his quarters. The room glowed a very light hue. He took off his jacket and tossed it on the back of his large reading chair. "Music." he said. The computer chirped in acknowledgement, waiting for a more precise order. "Something... melodic." Soft, instrumental music began to fill the air in his quarters as he stepped over to the replicator. "Raktajino." he said. The replicator whirred to life and within moments, a cup of hot liquid sat on the ledge. HHril took it and sipped at the liquid. The computer always made a terrible raktajino, and he planned on fixing that... but time never had not yet allowed for it. ~Now what to eat?~ he thought to himself. =/\=Ensign Nevada to Lt. Hhril, can you spare a minute please?=/\= came the voice over the comms. ~Ensign who?~ he thought to himself. but answered in a more appropriate way. "This is Lieutenant HHril, Ensign. How can I be of assistance?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique - hallway - Ensign Sarah Nevada - 2151) Sarah had asked if Hhril could talk with her about Jason, she only hoped he had the time. =/\= This is Lieutenant HHril, Ensign. How can I be of assistance? =/\= "I hope I'm not interrupting you, but I need to talk to you about a crewmember Ensign Jason Dema." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique - waste disposal and recycling tanks - marines Dickenson, Charles and James - 2203) James was doing the last watch while Dickeson and Charles were sleeping, but the time has come to kidnap the 2 children. "Okay guys, wake up, it's time." both the marines stood up and they all gathered, discussing how to do things. "Got that guys?" "Yep, no problem." James said, Charles nodded "Back here before 2330, otherwise you will be assumed captured or dead, the ones here will move out, and find us another shelter, now get going, and don't take any chances." "What about the kid." Charles asked "He won't wake up, you took care of that." Then, they all took their equipment, containing a rifle, a tricorder and a sedative for easy transport of the kids. Dickenson was on his own to get Cassandra, and James went together with Charles to get Jennah. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique - quarters - Dickenson - 2224) Dickenson arrived at the tube next to Cassandra's room. He took his tricorder and scanned for another presence. She was alone and sleeping. ~Piece of cake~. Dickenson silently opened the hatch, granting him acces to the room. he silently walked up to cassandra, took the hypo and injected it. The girl woke up, but before she had a chance to see what was happening, she fell back asleep. Dickenson took something for her to wear except her pyjama's and a blanket, and took her along, back down the tube, and brought her back to the hideout. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique - quarters - Charles and James - 2228) James and Charles arrived at the room where Jennah would be sleeping. They scanned the room and noticed the girl was sleeping, but a marine was guarding the room, and another marine was outside the room. "Are we going in?" Charles whispered. "No, too risky, the guard is too far away, he would have us both before we can do anything back." "I can snipe him." "No don't, that will alert the girl and the guard outside. Let's head back and hope Dick was succesfull." They turned around, back to the hideout. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stardate: 2406.10.24 (USS Mystique - waste disposal and recycling tanks - marines Dickenson, Charles and James - 2259) Dickenson arrived with the girl on his back. He lay the blanket on the floor, put the girl on it, and covered her with the other half. Then he sat back and waited for the other 2. about 5 minutes later they arrived. "Where's the kid?" "There was too much protection, we couldn't get to her." "That's unfortunate, we could've used her to free our budd's, guess we'll have to do it on our own, now, let's wait untill this guy wakes up. In the meanwhile, let's start planning to free the rest." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- End Compile