Lost And Found (JM with USS Sentinel/Peacekeeper)

[Peters]

ON: <USS Sirion, Deck 2, 0215, Day 4>

He didn?t know how he managed it, but Quaid had carried an injured and unconscious Hawkins up to Deck one of the Sirion with an injured knee. The last Borg they had encountered had killed Watkins with a single blow to the Security Officer?s neck. Before he realized what was happening, the Drone had broken Hawkins arm and slammed him into a wall leaving Quaid to fight off the drone alone.

Jake had used a jagged piece of metal that had been ripped from a wall panel during and explosion and ran it through the Borg?s guts? or what was left of them. The Drone was left flailing around the corridor as Quaid slung Hawkins over his shoulder and proceeded to head toward the Bridge. The climb through the Jeffries tube had taken its toll on Jake, and he had twisted his knee in the process, he was tired, and dirty and about ready to collapse himself. However, they had made it? almost in one piece.

Balancing Hawkins on his back and with one hand on the ladder rung, he was using his free hand to open the hatch leading to the bridge, be it unsuccessfully.

Peters and the security guards with him were resting after having climbed up a Jeffries tube to deck 1. They weren't too far from the bridge, but they didn't want to possibly burst in on a bunch of Borg while tired from climbing. Suddenly they heard the sounds of someone trying to open the hatch. Peters scrambled out of the way as three of the security guys moved towards the hatch.

Two of them positioned themselves on either side while one stood directly in front of the opening with his phaser trained on the hatch. Slowly one of the guards to the side reached out and pulled the hatch open.

"Stand down!" Quaid said as he stared up the barrel of a Phaser. The security chief relaxed somewhat as he placed two hands on the ladder. "I need some help here..."

"It's about time you showed up," Peters said as the security guards pulled Hawkins' limp form into the corridor. "So... had some adventures in the past few hours?"

"You could say that... fighting Borg, Dodging Borg, avoiding collapsing corridors. All fun and games," Quaid hissed as he too climbed onto the deck, cradling his knee. "Watkins bought it down on deck three. A damn Drone came out of nowhere. How about you, any casualties?"

"No... Deck 2 seems to be clean. And Deck 1 only has whoever or whatever's on the bridge." Peters shrugged. "Not very thorough, these Borg."

"I doubt they felt they needed to be, before we showed up at least. Any word from Captain Kersare?" Quaid asked, hoping that communications had been somehow stabilized.

"Communications still seem to be down, so no. We were on our way to the bridge to find out if anyone was there and if they had any ideas what was happening elsewhere." Peters passed over a PADD. "There are 17 Borg aboard, or were when we left the computer core. We think three of those are on the Bridge, but we couldn't localize life form readings any better than to the nearest deck."

"Anyone happen to pack a tetryon pulse launcher?" Quaid half joked as one of his men treat Hawkins injuries. Looking at the PADD, a frown crept across his face. "If we could overload the starboard engineering console, we might be able to take the Borg out, or at least distract them long enough to rush them."

"Yeah, but we'd need to make sure none of our people were close enough to get hit by it." Peters thought for a moment. "Besides, if there are three there, there are fourteen elsewhere on the ship. If we get rid of them, that lessens what the three on the Bridge can do against us."

"Any ideas of how we can do that?" Quaid asked as he handed the PADD back to Peters before drawing his phaser and opening its outer casing.

Peters stood fully upright and started pacing. "Several, but most of them have already been tried in one form or another. The problem is how quickly the Borg adapt. If anyone's ever tried something on them they figure out a way to combat it. So we need something they can't see coming."

"Can't see coming..." Quaid muttered as he tinkered with his Phaser's innards. He then suddenly stopped what he was doing and clicked his fingers. "What about a hypersonic pulse, tuned through the intercom system? If we can set it to a high enough frequency, we can knock all the Borg out simultaneously."

"And knock all of us out at the same time," Peters pointed out.

"Hmm..." Quaid replied, "You've got a good point there. There's no guarantees that it will work on all the Borg either, we don't want to make ourselves an easy target for those Borg that survive."

Peters nodded thoughtfully. "I don't relish the idea of getting assimilated at all, much less while I'm out cold."

"They're drones right?" Quaid asked suddenly. "What if we treat them like members of a hive, and zap 'em like bees."

"I don't follow you," Peters said as he tried to figure out where Quaid was headed.

"If we can isolate the Drones signatures using the internal sensors, we can use the security forcefields to sweep the sections of the ship that they occupy," Quaid said as his mind ticked over.

"We could," Peters replied slowly, "but those fields will, at best, knock a normal human out for a few minutes. At normal settings they give no more then a mild shock."

"I know they're not lethal, but what if you work some of that magic of yours and make the charge lethal to the Borg's biological components," Quaid replied with a grin.

"I'd need to reconfigure some safety interlocks... and disable the overload protection on the EPS conduits leading to those systems..." Peters trailed off as he tried to think of all the modifications that would be necessary to do what Quaid was suggesting.

"The charge would have to be pretty strong. The fields would have to be able to tear through organic matter."

Peters nodded again. "We're talking raising their output by at least a factor of five... probably more just to be safe."

"I'd make it 7," Quaid replied. "The only trouble is, we'll need access to the Bridge or Engineering to do it."

"And if they're both crawling with Borg?" Peters asked.

"I can't overload a Phaser in there... we need to keep the consoles intact." With that said, Quaid finished tinkering with his Phaser and proceeded to close the casing.

"You might not have to," Peters said as he thought of something. "You should be able to get the access we need from the Computer Core... and I happen to know that it's clean, since we spent the last few hours there."

"But we run the risk of running into the Borg by going back," Quaid replied, he'd just spent the last few hours fighting his way to the Bridge from the Computer Core, he wasn't about to turn back in a hurry unless he was given a valid reason. "Hawkins isn't conscious, and I'd only slow you down because of my knee."

"Hawkins should be in sickbay. That's on Deck 4. Coming back, the Computer core will be a whole lot closer. And we can get your knee looked at while we're down there, too," Peters pointed out.

"Alright," Quaid replied as he began to limp over to Hawkins to help the Security Officer's get him on his feet, "But if we run in to Borg, I'll tell them to assimilate you first."

"They'll have to catch me first," Peters retorted as he pulled open the hatch to the Jeffries Tube.

OFF: To Be Continued...

A JP With:

Lieutenant Jacob Quaid
Acting Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

[Steele]

ON: <<Main Bridge, USS Malinche, MD04, 0350>>

Will had been watching the object on his new 'SONAR' for some time and was almost certain, by this point, that it was not a Borg ship...at least, not any he had heard of. "Schulz to Steele," he said, tapping the comm panel, "Any luck identifying our incoming target?"

Aaron put the SONAR scan on the main screen in the science lab to better see what was showing up. The problem with SONAR was it gave you an outline, more or less, of the object in question. It was too small for any Borg vessel or most starships. Pulling up a secondary display, Aaron brought up silhouette of all known vessels of comparable size. After some study, he tapped his commbadge. =/\= I can't say with absolute certainty, but it appears to be an escape pod. =/\=


"Let's see if we can track its origin," Will said, checking his readings for any signs of where the escape pod had come from.

Aaron cleared the screen and replayed the scans from the beginning to try and see just when the object in question showed up on sensors. He could tell the direction the pod came from but wasn't sure which ship it came from. "Computer, display last known location of all nearby vessels."

He just hoped that the computer archives were correct. After comparing the results, he tapped his commbadge. =/\= Assuming things are correct, the pod appears to be from the Sentinel. =/\=


Will double checked his own readings. "Confirmed," he said, "Can you get a reading as to the occupants? It would be bad if we brought a couple of Borg drones aboard."

"That would have to be done with normal sensors. SONAR tells you what shape object is approaching and from where it's approaching, not much else." Aaron looked over to John Trout for confirmation, as he had more experience with SONAR than Aaron did. The biologist tapped his phaser as a message, picking up on it Aaron added onto his response.

"If you can't get a clear reading, I suggest dispatching security to the shuttlebay in case the pod contains some unwelcome visitors. "I'm locking the tractor beam now," Will said, adjusting his controls, "and I've dispatched a security detail...now the question is: do we tell the captain?"

The answer to that question seemed obvious to Aaron, but he had to remember that at one point in his career he would have asked a similar question. =/\= Let me put it this way. It's easier to apologize than it is to seek permission.=/\=

"I don't know about that," Will said uneasily, "I've never found it easier to go around the captain instead of telling them."


=/\= What I mean it that it is often better to act first then inform the higher ups, than to refer the decisions to them. Within reason of course. You take care of our visitors and I'll tell the Captain. =/\=

"Okay...I guess," Will replied, securing his station and heading for the turbolift with the intention of joining the security team in the shuttlebay. As he descended in the lift, he drew his phaser and checked the setting to be sure before reholstering it.

Not sure of the Captain's location, Aaron tapped his commbadge. =/\= Lt. Steele to Captain Kersare. We think there's an escape pod from the Sentinel approaching our position. Lt. Schulz has locked a tractor beam on it and is joining security to meet it in the shuttle bay. =/\=

Off

Tag:
Kersare


a JP

by
Lt. JG William "Will" Schulz
Chief Operations Officer
USS Malinche

&

[Peters]

ON: <USS Sirion, Main Computer Core, Deck 2, 0545, Day 4>

A couple of hours had passed since Quaid, Peter's and the rest of the away team arrived back at Computer Core control. Along the way Hawkins' injuries had been treated and he was now sedated, Quaid's knee was treated also, but strapped up in an old style brace to restrict movement until the repairs to his ligaments had a chance to heal properly. Since they arrived at the Computer Core control room, Peter's had been hard at work, trying to set up their surprise for the Borg.

"How much longer Peters?" Quaid asked as he stood at a station dedicated to the internal sensors.

Peters soldered a connection, then set his soldering iron to one side and pulled himself out from under the console. "Well," he said, "there are two things... one... I can get us access to the internal sensors at full resolution, but as soon as we start using them, the Borg will know where we are and if we don't wipe them out quickly we'll be in a world of hurt. So... the sensors are ready, but we can't bring them online yet, because I still have to finish the modifications to the security field systems."

"And how long will that take?" Quaid inquired as he slammed his hand against the railing by the console. His hatred for the Borg and being in the whole situation was getting stronger with each passing moment.

"Well, it should just be a few more minutes... but if you ask me how long it's going to take every five minutes, it could take an hour." Peters smiled to soften the remark, then hauled himself back under the console.

"I just wish we had better defenses... apart from a few Phasers and hand to hand combat, we're stuck between a rock and a hard place," Quaid sighed with an apologetic smile, "What I wouldn't give for some well placed mines right about now..."

"How about a nice handful of concussion grenades? Or, if we're dreaming, a legion of Q at our command?" Peters allowed himself to grin as he pulled the ODN lead from one processing circuit and connected it into another one. "Might as well wish to own the moon, Lieutenant."

"Good point," Quaid mused as he looked around. "We don't even have anything to barricade the door."

"Not so," Peters said as he poked his head out to look for the appropriate spanner. "We have plenty to barricade the door with... just not anything you'd actually want to use if you expect this ship go go anywhere when we get rid of the Borg."

"I hope whoever we're salvaging this bucket for will be happy knowing how many lives have been lost," Quaid replied with a bitter tone as he leaned against the railing to check his knee over for the 100th time.

"I imagine that Starfleet R&D will have ahold of it for a good while," Peters replied. He re-routed another dataline, then an EPS feed and started humming to himself as he worked. He couldn't place the name of the song, or even most of the words, much less where he'd heard it.

"Well they better find something we can use against the Borg," Quaid continued his rant, "I don't want our casualties to have died for nothing."

"Cross your fingers," Peters said as he made one final connection. "Hopefully this works and the Borg don't come up here and bust in the door before I can get it active."

Quaid looked at Peters hopefully, crossing the fingers on his left hand while clutching his phaser with his right hand. "Here's hoping!"

"Alright, that's done." Peters hauled himself out from under the console and reached up to tap in a quick command. "Our new, improved security fields are online. Don't be surprised if we read a few EPS conduit overloads in the lower decks, though. I had to disable the safety interlocks on some of the flow regulators to get enough power to make the things lethal."

"Okay," Quaid grinned happily as he checked the internal sensors. "I have 7 positive locks on the Borg, on decks four, 6 and 7. Try boosting the signal gain on the secondary receptors."

"Signal gain boosted," Peters replied, hoping his modifications would hold long enough to do the job.

"I have 10 locks now, the Drones on the Bridge. Is that it?" Quaid asked as his fingers hung over the security field sweep energizer like a coiled snake, awaiting its chance to strike.

"Hold on... let me see if I can't clear up the resolution on Deck 8... there." Peters saw four more drones appear on the scope. "That should be it."

"Looks like your modifications have lit up a few lightbulbs, the drones are moving toward Jeffries tube access points. It's now or never," Quaid replied in a rushed tone. "Hold on to your butts"

His finger touched the activation key for the pre-programmed security field sweep and he waited for the orange blips on his screen to start disappearing.

"Got one," Peters said as he pointed to a fading blip on the Deck 8 diagram. "There goes another."

*They're dropping like flies... wait... I'm detecting a fluctuation in the fields on deck 6...." Quaid frowned suddenly, "One of the drones is trying to access the controls to the auxiliary systems power distribution junctures. It could stop the sweeps unless we find a way to keep the lockouts active."

Peters rapidly tapped a series of commands into the console he was at. "I'm scrambling the codes. It'll take me a little while to restore the systems to normal when we're done, but it should keep the Borg from accessing the systems long enough for us to wipe them out."

"The sweep on decks 7 and 8 are complete.... it'll just take a few seconds longer," Quaid replied, silently praying that the fields would hold out. They knew soon enough however. "The Borg on decks 6, 7 and 8 are destroyed!"

"That leaves Deck 4 and whatever's on the Bridge." Peters watched the screen a moment longer and the blips on Deck 4 vanished. "Got them. I'd call that mission successful. If there are still 3 drones on the bridge it should be relatively easy to take them down with the rest of their collective gone."

"Perhaps you should look 'relatively' and 'easy' up in the Federation Dictionary database before we leave," Quaid quipped with relief as the weight that was pressing down on the away team's shoulders had been lifted some.

"Relatively: In relation to something else. Easy: without difficulty. Compared to blasting our way through 20-some Borg, three should be easy." Peters gave Quaid a sly look. "At least we're not dealing with Denevan Neural Parasites or the insectoid parasitic lifeforms."

"Who says we aren't, Kersare and Lange have both given some crazy orders these last few days," Quaid grinned as he locked his security terminal. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah. After you, though," Peters replied with a gesture towards the door.

OFF: This has been a Borg-busting JP with:

Lieutenant Jacob Quaid
Acting Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

[Akios]

<<USS Sirion, Bridge, MD04 0550>>

"Excuse me, sirs," Ensign Firvan called out from the Security/Tactical station. "I think you need to take a look at this."

Akios hurried over, and saw that the andorian had internal sensors on the station's main display.

"A few minutes ago, the sensor sweeps suddenly started clearing up. I didn't want to dig too deep, but I think someone else has accessed them. I can't tell for sure without risking giving our position away. But look at this."

He tapped the console, setting the display to repeat readings that had been taken over the last five minutes. Akios saw the readings become clear, showing the location of Borg throughout the ship. Then, one after another, the Borg began disappearing.

"I don't know what's happened, sirs, but the three Borg here with us are the only ones that show up on sensors now."

"So," Akios said, "either something has happened to all the Borg on the ship except for the ones here with us, or something has happened to internal sensors that prevents them from detecting the Borg."

Firvan nodded.

"I'd like to think they've all transported off Sirion, but I don't think we can make that assumption. I'm going to try to contact Malinche. Keep an eyes on our friends, would you?" Akios indicated the Borg on the bridge, and headed back to the Ops station. He confirmed that he could still reach the relay probe, and opened a channel.

"Malinche, this is Ens. Akios on Sirion. Please acknowledge."

[Hunt]

<<USS Malinche, Sickbay, 0440 Hours, Day 4>>

Mason left bridge making his way to sickbay. Timing was not their side tensions continue to mount with both Kersare and her first officer not wanting any more lives to fall into the hands of the borg. Moments later he arrived to an overwhelming corridor filled with talk and crew members racing to their posts. Hunt was lucky enough to make it threw the large double doors and into sickbay.

?Excuse me nurse where is the?? paused Mason getting nearly run down by a tray table and an ensign.

He heard some shouting and loud button pressing to the far left corner of the room to where he saw Doctor Troy(NPC).

?Doctor, are the inoculations ready. We are on a timetable here. The Captain should be in the transporter room by now. Also we will need to send medical personnel there in case its needed. Have the necessary preparations be taken here. There maybe some crewmen who have been scarped by the borg.?

The doctor looked at Hunt with a nasty firm look and handed the padd he was working on back to the nurse.

?Yes, here are the inoculations. My medical teams are standing by here and alpha team has been dispatched. Oh and let?s not forget the bio dampening force fields are standing by. Is there anything else I am quite busy here.?

Mason looked back up making sure the container was secured.

?Thank you doctor I?m sure that every here plus those beaming over will benefit from your wonderful bedside manner.? Said Mason leaving threw the double doors.

=/\=Hunt To Kersare=/\=

?I have the inoculations and all needed personnel are on hot stand by.?

OFF

[Kersare]

OFF: Note the time - this is a backpost

ON:

<<USS Malinche, Sickbay, 0200, Day 4>>

Isabel walked slowly down the corridor and hesitated outside Sickbay. Ever since Erasmus contacted her she'd had butterflies in her stomach. She wasn't sure what he'd tell her about the drone, nor if she hoped for one or the other... Isabel closed her eyes and took a deep breath before walking in. Walking straight to the office, she paused outside and knocked.

Erasmus placed the PADD down on the desk when he heard the knock, "Come in..."

The Captain walked in and gave him a brief nod, "You have news for me?"

Upon the Captain entering Erasmus sense of tradition caused him to stand, "Captain, you might want to have a seat..." he indicated to the chair opposite his.

Isabel kept a straight face, trying to keep herself a little detached - it wouldn't do to get all emotional one way or the other. Sitting down, she tried to convince her muscles to not be so tense, "Go ahead Doctor."

The doctor also sat down and took a deep breath, "I got the results back from the DNA test you asked me to run on the drone and I got a match in the Starfleet database, it's Derek Greyman. I'm so sorry Isabel...."

Hearing the words come from Erasmus made everything seem surreal. She sat there silently, trying to make her brain process the information. What she hadn't thought about as she hadn't believed it to be possible - but in the past hours she'd been forced to re-evaluate her beliefs. And here it was, right in front of her. Derek was Borg. Swallowing hard, she tried to keep her mind scientific, willing herself to not let the emotions get the better of her, at least not until she was alone. "Is there anything you can do for him? I know he won't ever be the same, but...can you reverse any of the effects?"

"We managed to sever the connection to the collective and his immune system is starting to kick in but unfortunately we won't know for sure how many of his systems are dependent on nanoprobes or implants, if any are it may cause a complication to remove them..." Erasmus wanted to say something comforting, but he knew the prognosis for a freed Borg was rarely all good.

She nodded, "How long will it take to find out?"

"The next few hours will be critical. Once security give me the ok I'm going to try and get him under a scanner and see if I can get some indication of how bad things are internally, it's possible we might be able to salvage some implants or replace them with something similar before his body rejects them."

Looking away for a moment, she tried to take in all that Erasmus was telling her. "Is there anything else we can do for him?"

Erasmus sighed, "I'm sorry Isabel, at this point it boils down to luck and how strong he is. There is a war going on in his body, unfortunately for the human side to win it might end up killing him..."

Isabel was silent upon hearing the response. Part of her wondered if it would be better for him to not live - as she had believed these past years. But the part of her that loved him desperately wanted him to be alright. "Is there anything I can do for him? Or is there anything you need?"

"For the next few hours all we can do is wait I'm afraid..."

Nodding, "Alright. Will I be able to see him, or will that need to wait?"

Erasmus could understand why she wanted to see him, but worried about the effect it might have on the Captain, "You can go down and see him but I doubt security would let anyone through that forcefield, even you Captain..."

Isabel gave a small smile, "They wouldn't be very good Security Officers if they did." Considering all that was going on, perhaps it would be better to wait - surely she didn't need the extra distraction, which would probably be made worse if she saw him. But then again, she didn't know if she could live with herself if something happened and she never had a chance to talk to him again...even if he was still mostly Borg. "Is he conscious? Would he understand what I said?"

"We're keeping him sedated for the time being, we want to make sure his body is strong enough before we worry about his psychological state, but as with anything like this, there is always a chance the patient might hear something even when sedated..."

Still torn as to what to do, she nodded her head slowly. "Anything else you can tell me, Doctor? What are the chances he'll survive?" Many questions were still plaguing her, but perhaps one of the most important ones would have to wait...and would only be answerable if he survived...

Erasmus paused before continuing, "Honestly Isabel, it's too soon to tell...I'm sorry...."

"I understand," she replied. She knew she was asking a lot of the Doctor, especially considering the short time he'd had to work with Derek.

Erasmus stood from his chair, "As soon as there are any developments I'll let you know..."

Isabel nodded, "Thank you Doctor, I appreciate what you're doing." She did her best to give him a smile, then turned and walked out of his office. Pausing outside of Sickbay, she considered stopping to see Derek, but couldn't bring herself to do it. It would be difficult, to say the least, and right now she had to take care of her duties to her crew and the Sentinel's....things weren't looking good.

OFF: JP brought to you by:

Lieutenant Commander Erasmus Brooker (PNPC)
Doctor
played by Lieutenant JG Jack Hawkins

and

[Starbase 386 Crew]

ON: <USS Sentinel, Deck 5, 0500, Day 4>

Lange hunkered down in a doorway halfway back up the corridor from the shield emitter. They'd decided to make their stand around Sickbay, with an access to Deck 4 cut in the ceiling of Sickbay which could be re-sealed in a hurry if Lange's plan didn't work out. All told, it was a good escape plan, and a half-baked plan to deal with the Borg, at best. Lange just hoped the escape part of it would work half as well as it should if the other part failed.

Heading down the corridor, Lange crouched down beside the security officer there. Unlike the stuff he'd seen in sickbay earlier, this equipment he could identify. He looked at the security man. "Are we ready?"

"Yes sir," the officer confirmed. He pointed to one of the emitters that was put together a bit differently than the rest. "This one will emit the radiation. the rest will shield this section from it. We can flood the whole ship, or any given section of it, from right here."

"Good." Lange felt a quick pressure on his arm and heard a hissing sound. He turned to see the LMH standing behind him with a hypospray in her hand.

"Inoculations against the radiation, just in case your toys here don't catch it all."

"Thanks doc," Lange replied quickly. "Now do me a favor and go back-up your program. If this doesn't work I want to be able to pull the back-up module and run." She nodded and turned back towards sickbay.

"Alright, let's kick this into gear," Lange said as he pulled his phaser out. "Fire up the Theta radiation and flood decks 6 through 15... oh, and the rest of this deck, too."

With a nod the security officer flipped a switch on the generator and it hummed to life. Lange settled in. Now they just had to wait.

As it turned out, they didn't have to wait long. Not five minutes after they'd activated the Theta radiation generator a group of Borg rounded the corner ahead and came striding purposefully towards their position. Lange swore. Not only were the Borg still alive, they didn't even seem to be harmed.

"Fall back!" Lange said as he tapped his commbadge. "Abandon Deck 5. Bridge, start flooding Main Engineering with plasma coolant."

In the scramble to get everyone off Deck 5, Lange barely remembered to grab the LMH back-up module on his way through Sickbay. He tossed the memory unit up to a waiting security officer, then jumped up and climbed up through the hole to the deck above. Only after the hole was sealed again did he tap his commbadge once more.

"Lange to Bridge, get me a readout on Main Engineering."

"Status unchanged, sir. The Borg over-rode our commands to vent the plasma coolant system and we haven't found a way past the override. Should we keep trying?"

"Negative," Lange replied, a sudden weight on his shoulders and a cold feeling in his stomach. "All hands, Abandon Ship."

OFF:
_________________
Tony
AKA
Captain James Lange
Commanding Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
Task Force 22, Horizon Fleet

[Masterson]

<<Main Bridge, USS Malinche, 0500, MD 04>>

ON

Joey (NPC) looked up from the ops console at the main viewscreen where the nebular gasses continued to swirl. He could barely make out the outlines of the two other Starfleet ships in the area. He'd been manning the console and keeping an eye on the new SONAR sensor grid since Lt. Schulz had left for the shuttlebay and, so far, everything seemed quiet.

As he continued to stare at the main viewer, he wondered what was going on aboard the Sirion and the Sentinel. He had never met the Borg face to face, but he had heard the stories. Some of them were enough to give him shivers, but he had the benefit of being distant from those events. Now, here he was, watching two Starfleet ships...two crews being assimilated by this cybernetic horror.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chiming from his console. He looked down to see that something had been picked up on the SONAR array. As he ran it through the database, he wondered if it was just some planetary debris or something far worse. It didn't seem to be moving in any regular pattern, but that didn't necessarily mean anything in this nebula. Tagging it for further observation, he continued running scans of the region as his thoughts remained on the ships ensnared in this gaseous soup with them.

END

Lt. JG Joey Summers (NPC)
Operations Officer
USS Malinche

played by

[Masterson]

ON: <<Operations Office, USS Malinche, MD 04, 0515>>

It hadn't taken long for word to filter through that the evacuation of the Sentinel was already in progress. From what Will had heard, the Borg were resisting all attempts at stopping or slowing their progress and that Captain Lange had ordered immediate evacuation.

Will tossed aside a PADD and took another one from a crewman who had just entered through the open door. Having gotten fed up with having to answer the door constantly, he simply had locked it into an open position. At the moment, he was busy coordinating the transfer of personnel and equipment from the Sentinel to the Malinche.

=/\= Summers to Schulz =/\= came the voice of Lt. JG Joey Summers (NPC) =/\= We've cleared a portion of cargo bay two for some of the Sentinel equipment and I've got a team standing by on the cargo transporters. =/\=

"Very good," Will replied, "Be sure to coordinate your efforts with the transporter rooms."

=/\= Aye, sir, =/\= Summers replied =/\= Summers out. =/\=

Will glanced down at the PADD in his hand. In an effort to help accomodate the increase in personnel, he had asked his department to double up in their quarters to make room for the Sentinel personnel. Setting the PADD aside, he only had a moment to wonder whether or not his counterpart aboard the Sentinel would be arriving with the evacuation or not.

Glancing at the wall chronometer, Will decided that it was time he returned to the bridge to coordinate efforts from his station there. "Computer, release lock on office doors," he ordered, passing through the doorway just as they hissed shut behind him. It was time to see if his preparations had been adequate enough.

END

[Steele]

On:

USS Malinche
Deck 6/Counseling Suite
Day 4; 10:15 hrs

The counseling session in of itself didn?t bother Aaron; he had been through multiple sessions while on Atlantis and a shorter session when he returned to the Thunderbolt. If anything he was concerned that the recent events had negated the progress made with Dr. Mitchell. His last stint on the Thunderbolt and his time so far on the Malinche, had both kept him busy and the looming threat of assimilation couldn?t be helping anything. With all this in mind he pressed the door chime.

"Come in." The words flew almost automatically from Nora's lips, while in reality it took her a moment to realize the door had chimed at all. Setting down the PADD she had been so engrossed in, she hastily rose from behind her desk and moved to greet her next appointment.

As he entered the counseling suite, Aaron found himself comparing it to Dr. Mitchell?s office. The layout was similar but more compact due to it being on a starship instead of a rather large medical facility on a planetary base. Unsure if the counselor knew who he was, Aaron introduced himself.
?Lt. Aaron Steele, I?m here for my counseling session.?

"Lt. Steele, of course," she greeted him warmly. "Please, have a seat." Even as she welcomed him in, Nora couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. While it was customary for her to review the files on all of her patients, time had gotten away from her and she hadn't had the chance to look through his file as carefully as she would have liked.

"I'm Dr. Nora Zeral, or Counselor Zeral, if you prefer. Or you can call me Nora if that makes you more comfortable," she added with a wry smile. "The options are limitless, really. Do you mind if I call you Aaron?"

?Aaron?s fine. It?s been my experience that rank is left at the door during counseling sessions.?
Taking a seat, the scientist made himself as comfortable as he could.
?So where do we start??

"Aaron it is," Nora agreed, taking her own seat. "I have a list of questions I could ask you, but I personally prefer to take another route as far as these evaluations go. Why don't you start by telling me a little about yourself?"

It wasn?t quite how Aaron expected the session to start but as he gave it some thought it made sense. As a linguist and amateur historian, it was always better to go the original source than rely on a secondary source. Taking a slow deep breath he began talking.
?The beginning is always a good place so I?ll start there. My early childhood was spent on Mars until my mother died in an engineering accident when I was seven years old. Soon after my father accepted a position on the Falcon and we all transferred there. Other than that it was a fairly normal childhood, yeah there was the war with the Cardassians but the Falcon was never involved in direct combat and the war had been going since before I was born so it was never a worry.
I enrolled in the Academy in 2370 with a Science major and Intel minor. Probably not the most common minor for those in the sciences but I wanted to continue my study of languages that I had started growing up. At the end of my senior year I furthered my language studies at the Defense Language Institute. Soon after I was assigned to the Thunderbolt the Dominion War broke out. Since I had studied the Cardassian language in depth and had Intel training I often would go through intercepted communiqu?s and try to find any hidden meanings in them; they would be in Cardassian and not translated since that could destroy any evidence so to speak. Towards the middle of the conflict I cross trained as a field medic, which became my primary job after the Thunderbolt?s destruction. A few months later when the new Thunderbolt was commissioned I signed on and for the first time in my career was able to focus on the science aspect of my training.?

Aaron paused to gather his thoughts before continuing.
?I guess the next major event occurred in early 2383 when I transferred to Starbase Atlantis as the assistant chief science officer. As Atlantis was a planetary base it offered many opportunities not found on a starship. While my time there was rewarding, it was also very challenging. Within a month of my arrival the planet was invaded by the Bixx. Having kept my med certification active, I helped at one of the treatment centers set up in the city. We also had a string of terrorist attacks and a spatial anomaly we called a firestorm that threatened the planet. All that aside I enjoyed my time on Atlantis. I was able to make significant headway into translating documents believed to have been written by the original inhabitants of Allura. I also helped design a unmanned submersible which we used, and I presume is still being used, in the planet?s oceans. I stayed there until the middle of this year when a falling out between the civilian authorities and the Starfleet brass stationed on Atlantis caused a dramatic downsizing of operations there. Once that occurred I requested a transfer back to the Thunderbolt, which was approved. I then transferred here just before the start of this mission which brings us to the present.?

Nora listened attentively, her expression serene as Aaron thoroughly answered her question. "It sounds like you've led a fascinating life," she commented once he finished. "And what about your family? Do you keep in contact with them?" It may have seemed like a harmless enough question, but in her experience a person's familial relationships were often crucial to their emotional health, whether they knew it or not.

Aaron wasn?t sure how Nora had reacted to his description of his life. He wasn?t sure fascinating was the best word to use but that wasn?t his call to make.
?I do keep in touch with my family but to what extent depends on which family member. I talk to my father at least every few months, more often if I want his advice. Both my brothers are in the Marine Corps, for some reason if we talk to each other more than six times in a year that?s considered good. My oldest sister Julie and I have never been real close. She?s fourteen years older than I am which I think is part of the reason. Megan and I speak to each other at least once a month; she?s only five years older and is also a counselor. She likes to check up on everyone and keep us sane; you want to know what someone is up to just ask Megan. And then there?s Sarah. Those that know us joke that we must have a telepathic link or something. Besides being twins, we both developed a love for science and decided to make that our career. We were in different task forces for most of the war until I transferred to the Clara Barton as a medic. After hours we would frequently spend time together; usually on her ship since there was less reminders of the horrors of war there. I truly believe that this helped both of us cope with our experiences, although they would come back to haunt us later.?

Aaron stopped, planning on ending it there, but his last comment made him think of something.
?Funny how the war seemed to affect us the most out of everyone in our family, maybe because we?re the youngest.?

Being a Betazoid, Nora knew a thing or two about telepathic links. It was entirely possible that a telepathic link did exist between Aaron and his sister--but that was a discussion for another time and place.
"War affects everyone in different ways,? she commented before getting straight to the point.
"How did the war affect you, Aaron?"

Although Aaron had completed multiple counseling sessions with Dr. Mitchell regarding his PTSD, it wasn?t a question he answered immediately; trying to find the right wording.

?While the war was still being waged it didn?t affect me. I guess because there was an information overload, so to speak. Even when I was on the Clara Barton and had those talks with Sarah, we never talked on one specific topic more than once. Historically as wars go, this one was compact yet just as brutal. There always seemed to be something going on, especially as we pushed further into Cardassian held territory. Am I making any sense here??

"Yes," Nora assured him. "The mind has certain defense mechanisms put in place to help one cope with traumatic events. It's not uncommon for the effects of those events to appear long after the event, or the war, in your case, is over."

(To be continued)

OFF:

JP by
Dr. Nora Zeral
Chief Counselor/ USS Malinche

&

[Starbase 386 Crew]

<<USS Malinche, Cargo Bay, 0545, Day 4>>

Kayla (NPC) looked around the Prometheus class ship's cargo bay quietly. She'd been there about an hour or so, just after Kilana had told her she was to be evacuated. It was a chaotic scene before her, for which she was glad.

The chaos had thus far allowed her to remain relatively unnoticed. At the moment she was in a corner of the bay - that way she could observe everything that was going on around her without someone sneaking up on her.

The Transporter Operator slid slowly to the floor. She'd been hoping to find some of her fellow Engineers, but none of them were here. Of course, some of the Sentinel crew were probably being transported elsewhere on the Malinche...

Kayla sighed. The reality was that the Borg had started assimilating in Engineering. The likelihood of any of them escaping assimilation, especially considering the condition of the ship as Kilana had explained, was extraordinarily slim...more likely nil. The exceptions being herself and Kilana, of course. Possibly Sorna (NPC)...since she would have been in the shuttlebay. And a couple other Transporter Operators.

That only left the Engineers who had been sent to the Sirion - Mikaela (PNPC), Jon (NPC), Marc (NPC), and Nisha (NPC). And she didn't even know for sure if they were alright. They could have been assimilated as well.

So few.

The past hours had gone by in a blur - everything had happened so fast. From doing routine maintenance on the transporters to Borg taking over her ship...her home. It was hard to believe that it had happened.

The Trill's eyes slowed moved from one side of the room to the other, taking in who had actually survived. Everyone was shaken, and understandably so. They'd all lost friends. Many were consoling each other; some hugging, some crying, others praying to whichever God or Gods they believed in.

Right now she didn't want to take part in it... Kayla wanted to be by herself. Many of her friends were Engineers, but she just wasn't ready to mourn. She would do so in her own time, but the mission wasn't over yet.

She wondered what was happening on the Sentinel now, without the crew. Was Kilana alright? Was the Captain? Had their efforts been successful?

Kayla bit her lip. There was no way to know at this point. She'd have to wait and see.

OFF:

Petty Officer First Class Kayla Oren
Transporter Operator
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

played by:

Chief Petty Officer Kilana Nira
Captain's Yeoman, Chief of the Boat, Acting CEO
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

[Peters]

ON: <USS Sirion, Deck 2, 0615, Day 4>

With their security sweeps completed and only 3 remaining Borg to deal with, Quaid was undecided as to how to proceed. Although they had fully charged phasers, he was sure that they couldn?t take out 3 Borg, they would adapt quickly. As they continued their journey back toward the bridge, he got to thinking about SSWAT and how they would deal with the situation.

?Hell, they wouldn?t get into this situation,? he thought, ?they would have destroyed this ship and call it a closed case.? The ship was deadly quiet, the mix of Borg and Federation technology giving it an eerie green glow in certain corridor sections. There had been no word from either the Sentinel or the Malinche either, even though he was accompanied by Peters and the rest of the away team, he felt more alone then ever.

Peters nudged Quaid's arm. "Hey, tall dark and brooding... any thoughts on what to do about the Borg on the bridge?"

?If I had my way, we would have blown the ship to hell,? Quaid replied as they passed by a Transporter Room. ?But we have to clear this ship and get it back to Starfleet.? He looked at his phaser, ?We might as well have slingshots, the amount of good these will do us. If only I had a TR-116.?

"If you want I'm sure we could scour the nebula and find some rocks to throw at them. Now... really, we don't need to kill them outright as long as we can incapacitate them."

?Incapacitate them? Sure, why didn?t I think of that!?! I?ll just walk up to them, tap one on the shoulder and say, ?Hey fella?s, would you be so kind as to stand there with your hands out while me and some friends slap some restraining devices on you??,? Quaid replied sarcastically.

?Our people could be dying, or they might be dead already. We don?t have a lot of time!? Quaid continued to rant. So much so that the team had stopped walking. ?They don?t need to breathe, we can?t blow up the Bridge, we can?t shoot them or electrocute them, and we don?t have the power to beam them in to space. So how do you propose we incapacitate them, genius.?

"Hey, you're the master of unorthodox tactics, I'm just the grease monkey, remember?" Peters retorted. "You figure out a solution and I'll do any engineering that needs doing for it."

?Unorthodox tactics?? Quaid parroted. Those words made him think back to his SSWAT days again, and he found himself thinking about ?the Prof?. It was a nickname for the Engineer of his unit. Smitty wrote the book on unorthodox tactics afterall.

?Wait a minute, that?s it!? Quaid said with a grin before muttering ?Thank you Smitty.?

"Smitty? Who the hell is Smitty?" Peters demanded. "And what's it?"

"There was a ship... years ago, it was found on the Dyson Sphere," Quaid was muttering, "What the hell was it called???"

"The Jenolan?" Peters remembered only because the sole survivor of that ship had given a lecture to his class at the Academy. Of course, at the time, Peters had no intention of being an engineer, but he had taken several Warp Theory and Quantum Mechanics classes that term.

"The Jenolan, yes... there was a survivor. Must have been there for 70 years or so. He survived by hiding in the Transporter system," Quaid replied. "Come on, you must have read the news article, or read it in an engineering book somewhere..."

"Actually, Captain Scott gave a lecture to my Warp Theory class at the Academy." Peters smiled. "He made quite an impression too, with lively impersonations of his old shipmates and even some members of the current Enterprise crew. All in the purpose of educating us about what we might see when we served on a ship, of course."

"Did he tell you about how he survived?" Quaid asked as he was wracking his brain, trying to remember what Smitty did during the mission to recapture the U.S.S. Pantheon.

"Yes... Something about jury-rigging the transporter into a continual diagnostic loop with his pattern in the buffer." Peters smacked his forehead with his hand. "Of course! We'll have to disconnect a couple of components and re-wire some things, but it should work and hold up long enough to figure out what to do with three drones. And they won't even know what hit them."

"Then let's do it," Quaid replied as he began walking back the way they came. "How long should it take?"

"Not too long... a couple weeks or so..." Peters grinned as he walked along the corridor. "That is, of course, assuming we can find the right tools for the job."

<Transporter Room 1, USS Sirion>

After quickly forcing the doors open, Quaid stepped into the dimly lit, yet functional looking Transporter room. The main controls for the system looked as if they still functioned. He walked over to the systems status display and tapped several keys.

?The transporter is still functional, but lacks the sufficient power to complete a full transport cycle,? the Security Chief reported. ?You better work another miracle Peters, or I?ll be sending you to face those drones first,? he joked as he stepped aside, ?I?ll see what I can do about the lighting.?

Peters moved to the transporter console and tapped in a command. After looking at the diagnostic that appeared he frowned. "Let's see, where can I find some power?"

"Take it from the environmental systems below this deck," Quaid replied as he opened a wall panel while the rest of the away team took up standard defensive positions. "We have a number of uninhabited decks below this one that don't need life support, or lighting or gravity."

"Actually, I have a better idea." Peters tucked his tongue firmly in the corner of his mouth as he worked to reroute some power connections he'd made earlier. "Ah ha... there. Rather than deprive sections of the ship of heat, I rerouted the power I'd allocated to the security fields for our little experiment earlier."

"Clever, but will it be enough to suspend three patterns in the matter stream indefinately?" Jake asked as he began swapping isolinear chips around, sliding them into different interface slots before tapping several keys on the interior diagnostic terminal.

"Well, our modifications to the security fields required power levels roughly ten times what those systems normally handled... a single Transport cycle takes about twice the power of running the security fields in one section for the same amount of time. I'd have to say, yes. Especially since we won't be running the materialization cycle... the buffer actually doesn't draw that much power." Peters grinned as he pulled up another diagnostic. "And as far as indefinitely, the Impulse generators on this ship will keep operating without maintenance for another 2000 hours. After that the auxiliary batteries would take over and powering just life support and this transporter platform, those would last for about fifty years... possibly longer, depending on the computer's power conservation settings."

"Well, at least we'll have some time to figure out what to do with the drones," Quaid replied as he continued to try and manipulate the lighting systems for the Transporter room. "If it works of course..."

"If it doesn't work they're either still there for us to shoot or they're scattered atoms. It'll work." Peters shrugged. The console blatted at him. "At least, it will if I can get this damned safety interlock overridden."

Quaid made one final attempt at getting the lighting system back online, the isolinear chips had been put in place, he had rerouted power to the secondary distributor, and was typing in the activation sequence manually. A few seconds later, a bright light filled the room as every light source within a 20 meter radius had been set to maximum. "Um... let there be light?" Quaid said as he squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

"That's not light, that's a supernova," Peters retorted. "Qapla'! Alright... rematerialization routine and all backups disabled... Now to interface the Phase Inducers and the Emitter array..."

"The foot bone's connected to the leg bone... the leg bone's connected to the knee bone..." Quaid quipped as he lowered the lighting level to standard while silently counting the red swirls and dots plaguing his vision.

"Thank you for that wonderful anatomy lesson," Peters groused. More commands got tapped into the console. "Heisenberg compensators working very well, thank you... Now I need to find and pull the override circuits. Anyone have a spanner?"

"My tool belt's with my other uniform," Quaid replied dryly before he stepped into the corridor. A Few moments later, he returned with a small, sharp strip of duranium. "Will this do?" he asked.

Peters took the strip and looked at it doubtfully before climbing under the console and opening an access panel. "As long as I don't electrocute myself with it, yes."

"Well, be extra careful then," Quaid grinned as he took the panel cover from Peters. "I would have thought that you'd be used to a few minor shocks these days. How long have you been an Engineer anyway?"

"A few years now." Peters dug into the console's innards a bit until he found the circuit he needed to remove. "You know, I do believe they specifically re-designed the layout of these things to make this harder to do."

Quaid grinned as he watched the console deactivate, "I don't think that was the right circuit."

"No, it was..." Peters pulled out the circuit in question and then reached back in to re-connect the circuit he'd knocked loose while pulling the override out. "How's it look now?"

Quaid looked at the status display and tapped several keys. "I'm not a Transporter expert, but I think we're good to go. The system's green across the board."

Peters brushed himself off as he stood. "Well, that leaves one last step before we start transport. I need to lock the pattern buffers in a continual diagnostic cycle. Once I have that done, we get to beam the Borg out one at a time."

"One at a time!?! You mean we can't beam them all out at once?" Quaid asked, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

"I have to route each pattern to a separate buffer manually. And that won't take more than a few seconds, but I can't take all three patterns at once doing that... unless you know how to operate a transporter and manually assign a pattern buffer." Peters began tapping commands into the console as he waited for an answer.

"So much for catching them off guard," Quaid muttered. A bad feeling suddenly washed over him like a wave. If one of the Drones happened to fight its way free of the confinement beam, there plan would be for naught.

"You worry too much," Peters replied. "The first one will be dematerialized before it can realize what's happening and I'll have all three within a minute. They're cut off from the rest of the collective and with just three of them they can't be very quick to react as a group."

"I sure hope you're right," Quaid replied as he leant against the forward bulkhead and yawned.

"We'll know soon enough. I'm ready to start as soon as I can pick out the lifesigns on the bridge." Peters yawned. "Now, see, you've started the cycle."

"I haven't slept in 52 hours," Quaid replied with a slight grin, it wasn't the first time he had been forced to stay awake for more than two days. He thought back to the mission in which he was forced to stay awake for an entire week as he waited to take out Lorak, a high ranking member of the Orion Syndicate. Moving over to the status display, he said "I'll monitor the patterns from here. Fingers crossed."

"Here goes nothing." Peters picked one of the Borg signals from the bridge and began the transport process. Within twenty seconds he had that drone stored in the first buffer. He quickly got a lock on the second drone and repeated the process. Again, no problems.

The third drone started moving as peters tried to get a lock on him. After a couple of thwarted attempts, peters finally got a solid lock and began the dematerialization process. "Come on, give me one more cycle.... come on... got 'im! Three up and three down."

"Pattern strength is holding," Quaid reported as he watched the data on the monitor, "There's no signal degradations as yet." The Security Chief tapped several keys. "I've locked this system off. Looks like you worked another miracle Peters. Whoever this Scott character was, he sure made an impression on you."

"Yes, well, I never imagined I'd actually be following in his footsteps. When I took that class I was in the science course as a Stellar Cartography major." Peters grinned. "The way by which I ened up in engineering is not a method I recommend."

"What's say we get up to the Bridge and find out what the hell's going on out there?" Quaid asked as he felt his second... no fourth wind kicking in.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Peters half-bowed and gestured towards the door. "After you."

"Oh you are just too kind," Quaid grinned as he and the rest of the team began to sprint down the corridor, back towards the bridge. All the while, Jake was praying that no harm had come to the other ships or the people that manned them. They had suffered enough, hadn't they?

OFF:

This has been a JP with:

Lieutenant Jacob Quaid
Acting Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

[Kersare]

<<USS Malinche, Cargo Bay, 0600, Day 4>>

As Fira (NPC) neared the Cargo Bay, she couldn't help but wonder how well she'd perform her job. With being woken after only two hours of sleep, not to mention the early hour, the El-Aurian wasn't sure how morale-boosting she could be.

Certainly in her years she'd gotten less sleep than this, but she'd never done well on little sleep. Regardless, duty called; the Sentinel crew needed her.

So, she'd climbed out of bed, put on a fresh uniform, and replicated her secret weapon.

Expresso.

Was it good for her? No. Would it help in the long run? No. Did it work for now? Absolutely!

Fira paused and moved the mug closer, using her hand to waft the aroma of the (mostly) delicious, caffeine filled beverage to her nostrils. Sure, there were caffeine pills, but if you had a mug of expresso, you could just take a jolting sip whenever the exhaustion hit you. Well, as long as it wasn't cold. She shuddered at the thought of cooled expresso.

Here goes nothing... The Morale Officer took a good sized gulp of renewed energy and entered the cargo bay.

And stopped.

Then blinked.

It was odd to see the Cargo Bay full of so many people. Of course, she knew they would be there, but still. They looked to be rather low spirits, which wasn't surprising. At the same time, she knew this wasn't all the survivors - more were in some of the other cargo bays.

And, of course, Fira also knew that many of the crewmembers, especially the Engineers, wouldn't be coming. But she couldn't dwell on that. It was time to raise some spirits.

"Oh, good morning, Warrant Officer," a young woman in Services yellow said. "Are you a Doctor?"

Fira turned to her right, towards the voice, "Good morning, Ensign. No, actually I'm the Morale Officer."

The woman nodded, "They could certainly use that."

"Yes. Have they been given any food or drink yet? Blankets and pillows, or perhaps rooms to sleep in?"

"Well, we've been going around offering food and drink, and tried offering them places to sleep, but I think they're still too traumatized for that, right now," the woman frowned. "I hope you can help."

"So do I," Fira replied. She gave the woman a brief smile, and then started looking around the cargo bay. Where to start?

She spotted a young woman in the corner of the Cargo Bay and considered going to her, but as the El-Aurian watched, she got the feeling the woman didn't want company. Instead, she made a mental note to seek out the woman - a Trill it seemed - later on. As she was about to turn to a small group nearby, the Trill caught Fira's eye. Fira gave a brief nod - she understood and would leave the woman be for now.

Turning back to the cargo bay, Fira knew it would be a long day.

OFF:

Warrant Officer 1st Class Fira Mestor
Morale Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

played by:

[Kersare]

<USS Malinche, Ready Room, 0530, Day 4>

Marco stepped gingerly across the threshold onto the bridge, even given the early time all stations were manned. Such was always the way during a time like this aboard a starship, times which he had seen many of.

His hands seemed to say "too many times" as his thumbs and fore-fingers gripped the PADD tighter before he began, almost nervously, tapping the back of it on his left fingers.

"She in?" Marco asked some duty Ensign in teal. He did wonder at that point what a blue-shirt was doing on the bridge during what was essentially a purely combat situation. He nodded to the ready room.

"Chief" the girl nodded in the affirmative.

Marco stepped up to the door and made to press the chime, his finger recoiled for a second, just a milimetre away from the button, before stretching out again to press it. It was probably the single-most important action he'd done for years, pressing that button. Although he couldn't hear it, the sound entered the ready room and Marco found himself reading the top line of the PADD

"For the Attention of Captain Isabel Kersare- For the purpose of forward to Starfleet Personnel"

He waited.

<Ready Room>

Isabel turned as she heard the door chime, "Enter."

Taking a deep breath, Marco thumbed the door release and stepped into Kersare's private office, the door clicked shut behind him and Marco took a couple of tentative steps closer into the room. He was aware of his palms sweating, perhaps a reaction from whatever creature sat in his gut playing cats cradle with his intestines.

"Good morning Chief," she said. She noticed the PADD in his hand and wondered why he'd come to see her. Usually she wouldn't think that he'd come to her on his own volition, especially considering his recent...demotion...of sorts. Isabel made her way to her desk, "What can I do for you?"

Marco noticed a suspicious look from the Captain, he realised as this point that he hadn't actually spoken to her since....it....happened. He wondered for a second if she would take this as him spitting his dummy out.

"Keptin" Marco acknowledged, politely nodding, He wondered what was so damn 'good' about this particular morning.

"Keptin..." he began. "I am man of honour, as I believe you know as much, I wanted to deliver to you in person...this" He stepped closer and handed over the PADD. He was so keen to get rid of it he let go almost before her fingers found the device, like it was a lethally contagious object "I...will go now Keptin" Marco turned towards the door, glad to have that over with.

"Hold on, Chief, at least let me finish reading it first," Isabel paused from reading the PADD to look back at Marco. He certainly was in quite a hurry.

Marco winced and took his hand away from the air that surrounded the door control. He grumbled inwardly, bracing for impact.

She raised an eyebrow as she finished, then sat silently for a few moments as she processed the information. Finally she looked back at Marco, "Why do you want to resign your enlistment?" Honestly she wasn't entirely sure she was going to like his answer, but considering the mission, it couldn't be much worse.

Marco queried her with a stern look, "Is not obvious?" Marco thought it plainly so. He was a tired old space dog with more days behind than ahead, and he didn't want to spend them as a demoted Chief looking after a shuttlebay.

"I would rather hear it directly from you, Chief," Isabel replied.

Marco again winced inwardly, this wasn't going to be flowers and lovliness. "Permission to speak freely Keptin?"

Isabel nodded, "Go ahead."


Marco sighed, "I am tired of all this, I am an old man. I don't want to be running things in such detail as shuttlebay. All minute this, this and this crap. As Chief Of the Boat, was better, I had a few people reporting to me" Marco began to pace the ready room, using his hands to speak also, "it was management, proper management, quieter style. Da there was the fear and rank occasions, but largely it was a quieter life, da?"

She listened as he spoke, taking in the frustrations he was feeling. "I see where you're coming from, go on."

Marco nodded, happy the Captain was following his babblings. "And running shuttlebay, what hands on have I got? It's all 'Yes Mr. Quaid, no Mr. Quaid, your shuttles will be ready Mr. Quaid, three bags full Mr. Quad' - argh!" He sighed again, rubbing his temples; "I want to FLY again Keptin, I miss FLYING, piloting...I know there's no way for me to serve as pilot again, not at my age they wouldn't accept a Chief just being a shuttle pilot. As a civillian, I could get some assignment on a freighter or something, or even Niberite Alliance."

As he finished the next part of his speech, Isabel pondered his words. "You want to fly again; I can understand that. There's times when I'd love to go back to being an Engineer," she smiled a little. "My question is, do you truly want to leave StarFleet? Or, if an opportunity to fly was available within StarFleet, would you take it - or at least consider it?"

Marco shook his head almost instinctively, he'd come in here knowing she'd play the dutiful Captain and try to convince him to change his mind. However, halfway through the first shake he looked at her quizzically, wondering where she was going with this...Kersare was many things, but was not one to float some random sentence just 'because'.

"I bring this up, Chief, because I made Lieutenant Quaid Acting Chief Security/Tactical Officer... He's been doing well there, and I'd have no problem keeping him there after this mission. However, if I do, that leaves Flight Control in a tough position. Unfortunately, I don't have any pilots on the Malinche right now with enough experience to take over the department. But if someone with the right experience were to apply for a commission and express interest in becoming the head of the Flight Control Department," Isabel let her voice trail off. She didn't want to push him - rather get him thinking. Perhaps he would at least take it under consideration.

"An officer?!" Marco practically spat. "Me? Commissioned?" He was surprised to say the least, and was aware his mouth was hanging open with shock. "Personnel would laugh you off the comm line Keptin" He replied, frowning as he did so and grudgingly visualising himself at the helm of the Malinche, a big enough department under him to keep him busy but witih good enough NCO management in place to not have to worry. Folen after all was very, very good. If a complete cow. "Can you really see me with pips Keptin?" He grinned slightly at the corners of his mouth, maybe she was even joking.

Isabel was a bit amused at Marco's response, but just a hint of smile showed at the corners of her lips. "Personnel knows what your experience level is, Chief." She raised an eyebrow at his last question, he didn't seem to think she was serious about the idea, "Yes, Chief, I can actually. It depends on whether you're willing to give it a try and in doing so, have the chance to fly again and some management responsibilities."

Marco frowned again at her and shook his head. "I can fly for Niberite, what makes staying in Starfleet so special?" Though even as the words formed, he had to admit that his comfort zone was...well, comfortable. He knew Starfleet, the people, the ships, the way of life...it was his home, really. But still, there was that 'Marco' irritability that he couldn't shake, the side of him that instinctively wanted to tell every figure of authority, including Kersare, to cack off. He also hated the fact that she made sense, and was tempting him with an offer that suited what he wanted.

"I imagine the same thing that has kept you in StarFleet this long," she replied. Isabel couldn't read his mind, so she didn't truly know why HE felt StarFleet was the place to be, but she had a few ideas. Being in StarFleet this long probably held a familiarity for him - it certainly did for her. She knew basically what to expect, what protocals were, what was expected of her. To leave StarFleet she, or anyone, would have to re-learn all that. Marco also seemed to thrive on tense or difficult situations - simply flying for a "normal" cause wouldn't be as exciting or have the varied situations they were likely to be in. Marco wanted the rush - he wouldn't get that elsewhere, not really.

Her words struck home with Marco, she was after all, completely correct. However, he instinctively wouldn't let her know it. "And what is that Keptin? The cramped up bunkrooms? The death, the losses, the wars? Like me you have seen more than one war - the Dominion, the Border Wars, the Klingon conflict, the Rommie Neutral Zone... let me ask you, Keptin, why are YOU in Starfleet this long?" he demanded.

Isabel looked at Marco, who was obviously trying to change the subject. "Yes, I have seen the bad. But I've also seen the good that StarFleet has done. Besides that, this is what I chose as my career. Could I resign and find some other kind of job? Sure, but would I truly enjoy it?" She paused before continuing, "I'd have to learn the new expectations for a different job, I'd have to give up living and working on a Starship; no more missions, no more time with my crew, no more adventures - not like now anyway. I think I'd be bored elsewhere. But all that is beside the point, Chief, we're talking about you here. If you'd be willing to give it a shot, we can do that. If you want some time to think it over, that's fine too - we'll need to get to a base or rendezvous with a ship before you could actually get off the ship anyway."

Marco suddenly felt angry, like an impetulant child. "Take your offer and sh- " He stopped himself and bit his bottom lift. "I respectfully decline..." He turned and stepped towards the doors which parted. "...Keptin" he finished

She quirked an eyebrow; Marco's response made her wonder if she should've even made the offer. "Very well, Chief. At this point, the offer will remain until you actually leave the ship." Though Isabel considered saying more, she doubted it would do anything to change his mind - he'd have to come to the conclusion himself.

Marco rolled his eyes in annoyed fashion and exited the ready room. "Past' zabej, Keptin, padla jebanaja" he muttered as he skulked towards the turbolift...grudgingly considering the benefits of her offer...

OFF:

JP brought to you by:

Chief Petty Officer Marco Tupalov
Flight Deck Command Chief/Chief Auxilliary Pilot
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

and

[Kersare]

OFF: This post mostly wraps up this mission, but please feel free to backpost. I know several of you have JPs you're working on, so go ahead and finish/post them. As I mentioned in my e-mail, we'll try to totally wrap this up within the next week, then we'll have shoreleave. Enjoy!

ON: <USS Sentinel Bridge, 0610, Day 4>

Lange looked around the now-empty bridge. Even at this very moment the last group of personnel from the Sentinel were being beamed aboard the Malinche, leaving just himself, Kilana, and a small group of Security Officers on Deck 4 aboard the ship. The bridge seemed cavernously empty and dark, though the lights were on full illumination. And Lange felt tired, and not only because he'd not slept in at least 36 hours.

Kilana looked over at James, concerned. A lot had happened already, and now... Her eyes moved slowly over the bridge, memories flowing back to her. Kilana's thoughts were interrupted as something bumped into her. Looking down, startled, she saw Mystery.

Lange heard a piteous 'Meow' and turned to see Mystery rubbing himself on Kilana's leg. "I'd almost forgotten about them. We need to find Sassy too. I wonder if..."

Lange trailed off as he headed for his ready room door. As it hissed open he looked around and let out his breath when he saw Sassy calmly occupying his desk chair. "Oh good."

Kilana smiled, at least something was going right. "I'm sure they appreciate not being forgotten. Is there anything else we should take?"

"Yeah... Grab the commissioning plaque, if you would. I need to claim my other one." Lange walked over to the wall where he displayed his personal effects and pondered its relative bareness. He passed over the handful of framed photos. They were all copies and could be replaced. One thing couldn't. With a slightly shaky hand Lange pulled the plaque reading 'USS Dragonfly...NCC-74241' off the wall. Tucking that under his arm, he turned and reached for the cat.

Nodding, Kilana moved towards the Ops station. Next to it, on the wall, was the Sentinel's commissioning plaque. Slowly she let her fingertips move over the plaque. "You've been a good ship," she said quietly as she removed the plaque.

Lange emerged from his ready room trying his best to hold onto Sassy and keep her tail from batting him in the face. "She has been a good ship. If Starfleet gives me another one I can only hope she'll be half as good as the Sentinel. And I'll even miss the eyes painted on the hull, I think."

Kilana grinned, "I'm sure that painted on eyes could be arranged. Just provide some...Scotty's Totty's I believe?"

"And a limited selection of paint colors this time. Only one last order to give, I'm afraid.... make that two..." Lange set the Dragonfly's plaque down on his chair and leaned over it to tap a few commands into the arm-mounted panel. A few short moments later a small shudder ran through the ship. "Now just one."

"What did you just do? What was that..rumble?" Kilana picked up Mystery before he could run off.

"I set off an overload in the shield generation grid. In the off chance the Borg manage to get past the computer lockout to disable the self-destruct, once we activate it, we can still destroy the ship from the outside without too much effort."

Lange sighed. "I wish I didn't have to do this though... Computer, Recognize voice print: Captain James Lange, Commanding Officer USS Sentinel. Activate self-destruct sequence, authorization zero-zero-zero-destruct-one."

"Destruct sequence completed and engaged. Please state interval for self-destruct initiation."

"Set time interval for ten minutes, silent count-down. Enable." Lange took a deep breath as he waited for a response. As far as he knew, no one had ever attempted this kind of destruct sequence with the command functions locked down.

"Voice Print and authorization code confirmed. Destruct Sequence is activated." A moment later that overhead speakers came to life. "Warning, Warp Core overload in progress. Warp Core will breach in ten minutes. There will be no further audio warnings."

Kilana felt numb - she couldn't think about the ship right now, the assimilated crewmembers they had to leave behind. She touched James' shoulder, "We better go."

Lange nodded, barely able to manage even that much motion. After a moment he reached up and tapped his commbadge. "Lange to Malinche... The Sentinel's destruct sequence has been activated. Transport the security personnel from deck 4 over immediately, then transport myself and Chief Nira directly to the Malinche's bridge."

Lange reached down and picked up the Dragonfly's plaque again as he waited for the transporter to take hold.

With the Sentinel's commissioning plaque in one hand and Mystery in the other, Kilana closed her eyes and waited to be transported.

<USS Malinche, Bridge>

A few moments later, Kilana opened her eyes to see a completely different bridge. The Prometheus class bridge was certainly....unique. She glanced around the bridge, then looked over at James.

"Is everyone off the Sentinel?" Lange asked immediately as the transporter released him. He felt Sassy push away from him and he loosened his hold on her. Then she was out of his arms and racing across the bridge to hide under the Engineering console.

Isabel looked over at the young officer at the Ops station, who nodded. "Yes, Captain, everyone has been evacuated to the Malinche."

"And the self destruct sequence?" Lange asked as Sassy decided to abandon her hiding place for Kersare's chair. "Oh, did you want a cat?"

Raising her eyebrows at the cat currently occupying her chair, Isabel tapped in a few commands to check on the Sentinel, "It's still counting down, Captain. And while I don't generally mind cats, I didn't really want one in my chair..." She picked up the cat and returned her to James, "I believe this is yours."

"Thanks." Lange took Sassy and tried to calm her. He still hadn't figured out how the cat had found her way from ship to ship prior to ending up in his care, especially since she seemed to despise transporters. Looking over at Kilana he saw that Mystery at least seemed quite calm.

"We're still working on getting the away teams back from the Sirion. We have heard back from a group on the bridge - including some of your Engineers - and most of the Borg signatures are no longer present... We don't know much more at this point though," Isabel informed them.

Kilana looked over at the other Captain, "Ma'am, do you know which of the Engineers from the Sentinel were on the bridge?"

Isabel replied, "From what my Executive Officer tells me, Breland, Waters, Coburn, and Croen. There's also a group of Sentinel Security Officers there, with a few of my crew."

Lange nodded at the news as thoughts started bouncing around in his head. As he figured it they had about six minutes before the Sentinel went up... It seemed all too long and all too soon at the same time.

Suddenly Isabel heard a repeated beeping and checked the status display. Her heart sank as she looked over at James, "Captain, the self destruct sequence has been aborted."

"How is your complement of warheads? Are you carrying any tri-cobalt devices?" Lange started moving towards the tactical station as he asked.

"Yes, we have tri-cobalt devices and there are warheads available," she said. She saw the Security/Tactical Officer take a step closer to his station, but Isabel shook her head. It was James' ship; he should be the one to destroy it.

"I need to appropriate two of them," Lange said as he stepped up to the Tactical console. Calling up a display he armed two of the devices and waited for them to be loaded into the forward torpedo launchers.

Kilana stroked Mystery's back, still gripping the commissioning plaque tightly. She'd hoped it wouldn't come to this; she wasn't sure how James would take having to blow up his own ship.

Isabel nodded, "Of course. Fire when ready."

Lange silently pulled up an image of the Sentinel on the screen in front of him and locked his ship in as a target. He just as silently pressed his hand down on the firing button, sending two powerful warheads slamming into the hull of the ship that had been his home for three years. Blue fire tore along the ship's hull, throwing hull plates off in all directions. After a moment the entire ship vanished in a multi-colored fireball as the anti-matter containment pods breached, adding their loads to the explosion.

With tears threatening to pour from his eyes Lange stepped away from the tactical console and retreated to the empty environmental control station. He had to sit before he fell.

Seeing the look on James' face, Kilana handed the Sentinel's commissioning plaque to Isabel and hurried over to James. Standing in front of him, she placed her palm gently on his arm and looked at him closely.

Isabel watched James blow up his own ship, partly wondering if she would have something similar happen with Derek, then stood, "Attention on deck!" Silently she stood, watching as the Sentinel exploded before them on the viewscreen. Certainly it was a tragic day; not only was the Sentinel itself lost, but many Starfleet Officers had been lost as well. The least they could do was stand at attention. Isabel closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.

Lange didn't look up, but he did lay the Dragonfly's plaque on his lap and put his hand on top of Kilana's. "I'm okay, really. I just need to think for a few minutes."

Kilana nodded and remained where she was. Despite what he said, she didn't think he was okay, but this wasn't the place or the time.

"Captain, if you'd like, my yeoman could take you to your quarters," Isabel offered. "Right now, we're--"

The Ops Officer spoke up, "Excuse me, Captain Kersare, but I'm not reading any Borg signatures aboard the Sirion..."

Lange looked up. "I think I have a better solution, Captain. The Sirion will need a salvage crew to get her back to a starbase. What remains of my crew is just about the perfect size to give the Sirion more or less full staffing. And it will make things a lot less crowded for all of us."

Isabel considered it for a few moments before nodding, "Makes sense to me. The Malinche can escort you to Starbase 386. We'll just need to inform those on the Sirion and make sure the Borg are really dealt with, then we can start transporting your crew over."

Lange nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I'll be... with my crew."

"Of course, I'll let you know when everything's ready, Captain," Isabel replied. She watched as Kilana and James got up to leave the bridge, then realized she still had the Sentinel's plaque. Moving towards them, Isabel held it out to James, "Captain."

Lange stopped and took the plaque, holding both it and the one from the Dragonfly in one hand and Sassy in the other. "Thank you, Captain."

OFF:

This has been a JP With:

Chief Petty Officer Kilana Nira
Chief of the Boat/Captain's Yeoman/Acting Chief Engineer/Acting XO
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

and

Captain James Lange
Commanding Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
Task Force 22, Horizon Fleet

and