The decks of the USS Avenger were unusually subdued, even during this time of conflict the bulkheads were cold, the corridors barren. The Federation's war with the Dominion was not going well. Hundreds of ships, hundreds of thousands of lives had been lost, and the future of the entire Alpha Quadrant seemed in doubt. For his crew, Andrew Brower had attempted to put up a worthy facade, but inside he felt as hollow and depleted as they. He sat contemplatively in what passed for his ready room. All about the office strewn pieces of debris and stray equipment cluttered the area. These days repair crews had far better things to keep them occupied than worrying over the tidiness of the captain's private sanctuary.

Twelve separate skirmishes with Jem'Hadar forces, and in all but one the Avenger and her sister ships had come out on the losing end. The last battle, though, had been the ship's greatest loss. Starfleet forces had indeed achieved overall victory in the altercation, but it had been a costly one for the crew of this particular Intrepid-class starship. Captain Sutherland and twenty-two shipmates had perished in the fighting, including the Ops Chief and his away team.

Absently Brower massaged the dermaplast strip which covered a fair amount of his right arm. He too had been a casualty of the fighting, suffering severe plasma burns in the explosion on the bridge. There was no time for him to recuperate at a starbase medical facility, however. He was needed in the captain's chair. Almost immediately after learning of Sutherland's death, Starfleet brass had given Brower a field promotion to captain. Now it was his job to restaff the ship and get her ready to fight advancing Dominion forces. His chestnut eyes were lenses behind which hid a wearied, used up soul.

He poured over the padds filled with personnel information which cluttered his desk. His desk. Even the thought of it knotted his stomach with a resentful, nagging hatred that he had to willfully force from his mind each and every time he considered the vile, merciless Jem'Hadar and what they had done. They marched across the galaxy on a quest in which they had no personal stake. Save their genetically manipulated compulsion to follow the every bidding of the Founders, the Jem'Hadar had no reason for being whatsoever. The Founders were no better, though they considered themselves superior to all forms of humanoid life. Tobias Sutherland's life was worth more than that. The man had been more than his captain. He had been like a father to everyone aboard the Avenger.

Forcibly he drove the rage from his thoughts. In fact, it had been getting easier for Brower to control his hostility. After so many days, he was too emotionally spent to stay angry for very long. The entire crew was drained emotionally, physically, and spiritually. The entire ship seemed at times to be nothing more than a mere shell. Never had the Federation faced a future so grim, had things seemed so bleak. Of course he remembered the most recent Borg invasion and the earlier Borg threat of nearly a decade ago, but neither compared to this. Even the devastating Battle at Wolf 359 which had claimed so many of his Academy classmates was nothing compared to this bitter, sustained conflict with the Dominion and their Cardassian puppets. He likened the two to natural weather phenomena back home on Earth. The Borg were like a tornado, swarming in to do their damage, and then they were gone. Certainly they had caused much destruction, though over a finite time period. Battling the Dominion was like fighting a flood. Waters crept in, rising slowly in the night, eventually overwhelming even the greatest preparation, and devastating all attempts to stop it. In the end, the toll a flood could take was far greater on the lives of those it touched. The Dominion war had touched the entire Federation.

A chime at the door tugged at Brower's attention. It rang out again as Andrew considered how long he had been oblivious to its chime. "Come in," his voice was hollow.

The doors slid apart revealing the ship's newly appointed first officer who stood stiffly waiting for an invitation to enter. He appeared equally haggard.

Brower surveyed the officer's dark skin and piercing stare. Behind those eyes hid the sole of an individual truly about to give in to exhaustion. To his credit, though, Lucas kept going. "There's no need for the formality, Lucas. Please, sit. You have good news for me, I hope?"

Lucas West limply straddled the back of a chair opposite the captain's desk and sunk against its back. "That would be a welcome change, sir. Unfortunately, I have the revised estimates for the repairs in engineering. Not good." He slid a padd quietly across the desk. It skidded until colliding with the dozens of others residing there. "In short, ten more weeks."

The estimate seemed impossible, and had been revised upward daily. Brower reclined, his calm exterior did not waver, though he truly wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. His frustrations, however, were not directed at West. In point of fact, Lucas had been doubling as XO and Chief Engineer for at least a week, and in that time, Brower was certain the man hadn't slept once. The problems in engineering were just too much for a person doing two jobs to handle. He needed to find a Chief Engineer, and fast. Trouble was, the person he wanted and trusted to do the job was a resident of the critical care ward in Sickbay. He couldn't wait for her to recover.

Darian Blake, Personal Log, SD 50026.1

Thankfully Jason is more and more his old self every day. He still seems distant, but I can tell he's making an effort. Of course, having our friends, Audra and Hyper, along has made it even easier on him. And in a way, I think my son's presence helped Jason as well. He seemed exceptionally saddened when I had to leave Daniel on Earth with my brother. But the war has caused a great many hardships and sacrifices. I'd like to say I know when I am going to see my boy again, but I can't. I can't even say with any certainty which ship I'll be serving on. I know I'll see Daniel again...

Audra looked apologetic as she entered the dorm-like room, apparently catching her friend in the middle of something. "I'm sorry, Darian, am I interrupting?"

Darian Blake glanced up from his computer padd shaking his head. "No. Just finishing up a few things." His attention turned to the doorway and the empty hall beyond. "Didn't Jason and Hyper come back with you?'

Audra's nose wrinkled up. "Jason is still at Fleet Operations waiting on word of ship arrivals." To her, Jason's enthusiasm for getting back aboard a ship and into the war made her a bit edgy. But he had shown more interest in fighting the Jem'Hadar than in anything else in the two months since his terrible ordeal on Ritlan III. In a way, she guessed they were lucky he was showing interest in anything at all. "And Hyper is at the... botanical gardens getting a last look at some of the vegetation she says she'll miss while we're away," McKay lied. It sounded better than 'fessing up to Darian that Hyper and her legendary stomach were out prowling the starbase for yet another late night snack. Honestly, if not for her lightening fast metabolism, Audra was convinced that Hyper would have been as big as a starship by now. Of course, that would have solved their dilemma as to which ship to take. They could have all signed aboard the USS Nor. Audra giggled to herself.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, uh, nothing," she answered, not looking the least bit guilty.

Avenger's Chief Medical Officer glanced down at the quiescent form of Lieutenant Anderson. A warm Starfleet blanket was wrapped up under Schyler's chin and her motionless body lay flat on a bio-bed in a private medical room. From appearances it was hard for Chris Logan to tell she was very near death. After more than a week she hadn't regained consciousness despite Logan's ministrations. He loved her. He had known that for a long time, but never had he felt it so much as the day she was transported into his sickbay, plasma burns covering eighty percent of her comatosed body. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

The main esplanade of the gigantic starbase was packed with all manner of beings, but mostly Starfleet officers making their way about. Over the past months this quiet, out of the way outpost had become an important tactical base for the war against the Dominion incursion into the Alpha Quadrant. It had been transformed into a way station for refugees and a clearinghouse for starship crews either waiting for a new assignment or passing the time while repairs were made to their ships. Right now there were more officers than ships to put them on. So all most could do was wait.

With great excitement Jason Alberts pushed and elbowed his way through the meandering crowd until he got to his destination, a small drinking establishment tucked under the high balcony on the periphery of the bustling esplanade. He pulled up a metal stool at the table next to his friend and sat down. Impatiently he waved to the overwhelmed barkeep. "Margaritas, two," he shouted, then glanced across the high table at Darian. "Well, aren't you going to ask me?" he stared expectantly.

Jason obviously had news, and even if the two hadn't been fast friends since their Academy days, Darian would have been able to tell as much simply from the overwhelming enthusiasm on Jason's young face and the urgent manner in his step. "You found us a ship?"

"Not just any ship," Jason blurted. "The Avenger. You remember, Brower's ship?"

Darian furrowed his forehead as he tried to recollect. Then it came to him. "Andrew Brower, our old Operations Manager from the Endeavour?"

Jason nodded. "That's him. He's the captain of the Avenger now."

Darian blinked in surprise, wondering what had propelled Brower so fast into the big chair. He knew Brower had been a competent officer, but somehow Darian expected that the war had necessitated the young man's quick ascendancy. These were trying times for everyone. In a way he felt sorry for Brower. Being thrust into a position of responsibility before one was ready could be as trying as never getting the chance in the first place. His attention shifted back to Jason as a waiter brought two frosty glasses rimmed with salt. "So, why are you so excited? You're hoping the Avenger has some openings?"

"I'm not hoping," Jason answered, thirstily sipping at his drink, "I know. Avenger has several openings..." he paused dramatically, "including a Chief Engineer." He gazed at Darian expectantly. For years Darian had been intent on furthering his Starfleet career. This was the perfect opportunity.

Darian looked at his friend tentatively. "I don't know, Jason..."

"What's not to know? You're perfect for the job."

Darian shook his head. "I've never even held the Assistant's job, let alone Chief. Besides, there are probably fifty other better-qualified candidates in line front of me."

"Maybe so," Jason acknowledged quietly, "but the captain doesn't want to interview them." With an enigmatic grin he waved an isolinear optical chip tauntingly.

Darian's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" His eyes followed the chip cautiously. "What is that?"

"It's a communiqué from Captain Brower. He wants to see you as soon as the Avenger arrives."

"Why?"

"To interview you for the Chief Engineer position, I suppose."

"How does he know I'm even interested," Darian's voice took on a serious tone.

"Could be because you forwarded a copy of your service record and a letter of inquiry to him," Jason answered.

For a long, tense moment Darian said nothing. His eyes burned into Jason's. For a time he considered whether or not to knock his friend from his bar stool, then thought better of it. "Why would you do something like that, Jason?" he asked finally.

"Because I knew you wouldn't, and because I know you want more than anything to have your own command one day."

"That may have been true, once. But now I have Daniel to consider."

Jason glared into his friend's eyes. "Darian, you may want to use your child as an excuse to give up on everything you've ever wanted, but we both know Daniel isn't standing in your way. You are." With that he stood to leave.

Before he had time to depart Darian clasped his arm, lowering his voice. He knew Jason had only wanted to help, and after his initial burst of anger, Darian was settling in to the idea. "When does the Avenger arrive?"

Jason smiled wryly. "Thirty minutes." Before Darian had time to react yet again, Alberts was gone, disappearing into a crowded sea of people on the starbase.

"I apologize for the location of this meeting," Captain Brower told the younger candidate seated across from him at the two-person table. He looked around the spacious crew lounge which sat empty, save himself and the chief engineer applicant. Lining the far walls, a row of angled, floor-to-ceiling viewports afforded a view of the Avenger's ample shuttlebay. Below, dozens of work bees and travel pods darted in and out of the ship delivering supplies, parts, and personnel. "This is one of the few areas of the ship to have remained relatively undamaged in the fighting with the Jem'Hadar."

"It's not a problem, Captain," he tried not to appear nervous. "I began my career as a pilot, so I'm used to being around the shuttlebay."

Brower had versed himself with every detail of the candidate's service record. He nodded. "From what I've gathered, your piloting skills are quite remarkable. I also remember a few of your notorious escapades on the Endeavour, many of which involved more than a few feats of flying prowess."

He smiled uncomfortably. He had wondered how long it would take Brower to get around to his somewhat juvenile escapades on their old ship. Darian knew those experiences, and having a son, had changed him and helped him to mature. While patiently waiting for the next question, he couldn't help but notice that Andrew Brower had also changed since the two had last seen one another. Something was different. It wasn't quantifiable, but somehow this was not the same man he had served with on the Endeavour. He noticed the dermaplast patch which poked from beneath the right sleeve of the captain's uniform, and how the man scratched at it from time to time.

"So, tell me why you deserve to be our Chief Engineer."

Having only a half hour to prepare had left Darian feeling off balance. The interview seemed to be more grueling than he had anticipated, and after an extensive list of questions, he wished he could just end the meeting and walk out.

Unknown to Blake, Brower was quite taken with the young officer's cool demeanor. It reminded him of his own style. Having served together previously, he knew of Darian's competent work. It was Blake's resolve under pressure and disposition with the crew which were still to be proven. If anything, fighting the Dominion had taught Brower that how one related to a crew was as important as the orders given to them. He desired a chief engineer who was as good with people as with machinery. "You know, I remember not so long ago when I came aboard this ship as first officer. Everything was different for me. I was still aboard a starship, comparable to every ship I've served on, though distinctly different. The bulkheads are the same, the deck plans, the hardware, but those things aren't what truly defines a ship. People define a starship. Would you agree, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Undoubtedly the captain of a ship sets its mood, but the senior staff is a reflection of the captain, a visible sign to most of the crew of his leadership. If the crew doesn't have confidence in a department head, they don't have confidence in the captain. That's why I need to be certain you can relate to the people who comprise the largest department on this ship."

Darian nodded, not exactly certain where this was going, though he had a pretty good idea.

"That's why I'm going to give you an exercise," Brower explained. "Would you be up for something like that?"

I knew it! Darian recoiled. This whole meeting seemed to be going south in a big way, and when he was finished, Darian promised himself that Jason would pay for initiating it. "No problem," he answered, a deceitful smile smartly obscuring his discomfort. The far door opened and a dark skinned man in a red and black uniform strode in. Darian noticed right away his piercing stare from behind aquamarine eyes, evidently the product of melato heritage.

"This is Commander West, Avenger's first officer," Brower introduced. "He'll be conducting the particular exercise I have in mind."

Unsure exactly why, Darian felt a growing uneasiness as he was led off to begin this enigmatic test, certain his fate had already been sealed.

The dim cabaret somewhere in the dank, lower levels of Starbase 114 literally crawled with beings. The air was filled with fumes and, aside from the lack of light, the wafting clouds of various second-hand smoke made it difficult to see much farther than one's own table. There was music, though it was impossible to hear over the clink of glasses and din of other patrons, none of which appeared too savory. Jason sipped casually at his drink, glad now to have chosen a table in the corner. At least no one could sneak up on them from behind.

"The atmospheric processing system in here must not be working," Hyper coughed as she swatted at the dense air, her face recoiled in a sour expression.

Audra smiled, fighting a laugh and trying not to spew her mouth full of Catarian dwanada juice all over her two companions. "I think they keep it like that in here for a reason," she observed after swallowing. "It makes it easier to conduct... business." Her eyes darted about, examining the creatures within her visual range. They looked like criminals.

"I'm just glad we don't have our uniforms on," Jason said. "I bet half the people in here have some dispute with Starfleet."

"We're on a Starbase, Jason," Audra reminded, ridiculing his observation.

At that moment an angry Nausicaan who was losing at poker upended the table where he was sitting, spilling his two Tellerite companions onto the floor. "Still..." Jason countered as he watched them. The rest of the bar became still for a moment. When it seemed clear the altercation would go no further, things resumed as normal.

Hyper ignored the brawl. "I hope the fact that Darian has been gone forever is a good sign. Who's bad idea was it to meet here anyway?"

As if on cue a black and gold uniform appeared from the smoky haze and a Starfleet lieutenant strode to the table. As usual, Darian's stoic features revealed nothing about his recent meeting with Captain Brower.

Jason hurried to pull up an extra chair and usher Darian into it before too many more patrons conspicuously eyed him walking to their table.

"Well?" Hyper asked anxiously as Blake sat. She was dying for details.

Darian eyed the group hesitantly, not sure how tell them his news. They had been a close-knit group for several years, and one way or another this would alter their relationship permanently.

Jason watched his friend carefully. Darian's face was expressionless, and to most people this told them nothing of what he was thinking. To Jason, however, even the lack of expression was a statement. "You got it, didn't you?" For a quiet moment no one said anything and he stood, reaching to pat Darian on the shoulder.

Darian nodded. "Yeah. He offered me the position, starting immediately."

"That's great!" Hyper piped up, leaning to hug Blake tightly. "I knew you'd get it!"

"Congratulations, Darian," Jason said, motioning for a server. "This calls for a celebration."

He thanked them, observing Audra's quiet notice of his announcement. She was smiling, but her silence said volumes. "I know this is going to change things for us... quite a bit actually."

"I should say," Audra spoke up finally. "We'll never see you again."

The table grew quiet, except Jason who was still flailing trying to attract a server's attention. "It's not as bad as all that," Darian assured.

Audra tried not to appear disappointed. She truly was happy for her friend, but the selfish part of her hated to lose him. "Really? And why's that? You're taking us with you?"

"Actually... yes."

Now even Jason became still. "Um, what did you say?"

"I was going to surprise you all with an official Starfleet transfer request," he explained, "but Captain Brower has agreed to allow me to assemble my own engineering team. He and I had a long discussion about the importance of people. That means there's a place for all of you aboard Avenger... if you want." He eyed Audra for her reaction.

About that time the Nausicaan howled again and in another fit of rage, grabbed one of the Tellerites and tossed him across the bar. In an instant the whole seedy establishment was a melange of hands, fists, broken glass, and small weapons fire. Before they could be caught in the fray, the four Starfleet officers made their way to the door and relative quiet of the main gangway beyond. They were on their way to a new assignment and a whole new way of life.

Darian lay gazing upward, peacefully watching as the stars streaked overhead in the viewport of his bedroom window. They smeared against the pitch blackness, like a school of thousands of chardra fish swimming briskly upstream to spawn. A slight stirring next to him pulled his attention back inside the faintly lit cabin. He gazed contentedly at the head of flowing brown hair draped across his smooth, muscled chest. The pile of hair shifted ever so slightly with the rise and fall of his breathing.

Ensign Kladvia G'Nar was a beautiful, young member of the Security department, and the first non-human he had ever been intimate with. He had been initially amazed how easy it was for them to have sex being from different species. Now when they were together, it never crossed his mind that they weren't from the same genetic classification. And they were together quite often over the past eight weeks.

Everything seemed more urgent in wartime. He and Kladvia had wasted no time in getting to know one another. They met regularly during breaks, after a duty shift, sometimes even stealing a quiet kiss together in a deserted turbolift or lab. Though he wasn't certain if they truly had deep feelings for one another, or were merely acting upon the urgency of the moment, he knew they enjoyed each other's company.

She nuzzled him unconsciously, burying the olive skin of her velvety forehead deeper into his bare torso, and the disturbance reminded him that it was time to get back to work. In the two months since Blake had taken on the responsibilities of chief engineer, he and his team had accomplished a great deal. Repairs to most of Avenger's damaged system were complete and the crew was busily preparing for the ship's next mission--which reminded him of something. He carefully slid Kladvia's head aside, sat up, and reached for his com badge on the night stand activating it.

"Jason, I forgot to tell you something this morning."

There was a long pause. "Let me guess. The spent plasma relays needed to be purged before we began tests on the auxiliary fusion reactors?" his friend's voice answered over the comm.

"Uh, yeah," Darian answered sheepishly. By his tone it was apparent Jason already knew why it was important to do so. "Is it bad?"

"Well, let me put it like this... Lieutenant Lanei wants to have a few words with you."

"Don't tell me, the noise from your repairs interrupted one of her experiments?"

"Nope--much worse than just noise. The high pressure plasma relays blew on deck six. The mess completely ruined three of the astrometrics labs." He closed the channel.

"Great," sighed Darian, undaunted by these latest developments and too tired to be upset by much these days. He threw back the bed sheet covering the lower portion of his unclothed body and leaned over the side to pick up his under garments. Starlight shone off the smooth curves of his muscular physique. He stood up to pull on his clothes and Kladvia whistled. "Nice butt, Lieutenant."

Silently he pulled on his uniform top, then the jacket. "Thanks, Ensign," he told her with the same mock formality. "We'll meet later?" Without waiting for the nod he knew would be coming, he stepped through the doorway into the living area and the corridor beyond headed for engineering.

The pulsating, undulating rhythms of the warp core had a certain hypnotic quality, and the familiar vibrations of the ship's massive power systems lulled Vella "Hyper" Nor nearly to sleep. She dozed once or twice, bobbing gently as the falling motion of her head woke her. She didn't notice the chief engineer return. "Keeping an ever-vigilant watch I see," he said sardonically on his way past her duty station.

Within less than a second she had reached complete alertness, monitored her systems, and reported. "Core pressure is at point-zero-zero-one above normal, warp flow field nominal, all other systems well within flight tolerances. Anything else, sir?"

Darian smiled to himself. Completely asleep Hyper's metabolic rate and cognitive powers were ten times those of most people, merely drowsy her mind was probably doing somersaults while calculating the speed of the ship relative to the Doppler shift divided by total flight time, vehicle mass, and time of day. He opened his mouth for a witty retort but a comm chirp interrupted. "All senior staff please report to the ward room for a mission briefing in precisely ten minutes."

He turned and promptly strode into the turbolift headed for deck one. Even in the short time it took him to reach the ward room, all the other senior staff had already gathered and taken their seats. On Captain Brower's ship, early was on time. He scanned the faces of each department head, saying hello as he passed, and noticing a decidedly new face at the table opposite him. The woman was a Starfleet lieutenant, Vulcan, gold division colors, dark hair and eyes, and a remarkably beautiful face, though her stunning features seemed marred by a permanently embedded scowl. Her sleek ears raked up and back, coming to a point just below a generous tuft of jet-black hair. She nodded to him.

Precisely one minute early Brower made his way into the ward room and everyone rose. Once the captain sat, the rest followed suit. "I'd like to start off by introducing the newest member of our team, a woman with whom you've no doubt noticed seated among you, and last replacement among our senior staff." He motioned toward the dark-headed woman seated to his right. "This is Lieutenant Alista Jarok, Avenger's new Operations Manager."

There was a slight pause as everyone acclimated themselves once again to the harsh realization that Schoen Rutledge's shuttle was not coming back. He and his team had been lost and presumed dead during the same battle in which the captain was killed--so many names, one's mind tended to deal with the pain of war by lumping all the casualties into one, homogeneous group. Meeting Rutledge's replacement pulled his face from the roster and brought home the impact of his loss once again.

"For the record, Lieutenant Jarok is of Romulan heritage, not Vulcan." Brower allowed an audible gasp to settle before proceeding. "Make no mistake about her loyalty or dedication however. She is a member of this crew, and I have the utmost confidence that you will afford her the trust and respect she deserves." He eyed them, and saw no one willing to disagree. "Alista is quite competent, extremely intelligent, and very good at what she does." The captain eyed the newest addition to his crew. "Lieutenant, perhaps you would care to share a bit more about yourself?"

A fleeting, imperceptible expression of disdain gave way to indulgence as Alista nodded. "I fled Romulus nine years ago. Two years later I entered Starfleet Academy and graduated at the top of my class. Now I am here."

Raised eyebrows signified most everyone's astonishment at Jarok's curt style. Her recounting of the past decade in little more than two sentences bordered on rude.

"What have you been doing since?" asked Kale Rataan. The Rigelian's eyes narrowed as he watched for her response.

"An appropriate question from the Chief of Security, Mr. Rataan," she nodded.

He returned the nod, impressed. Apparently she had done some homework.

"For the past twenty three months my skills have been utilized at Starfleet Tactical Command."

"Doing what?"

"Running tactical simulations and analyzing strategy."

"So why come aboard a starship now?" Kale's methodical queries continued with surgical precision.

Alista raised her left eyebrow, as if the answer should have been obvious. "To protect the my home from the Dominion."

"You mean Romulus?"

She scowled noticeably. No, I mean Earth. Earth is my home too."

The answer brought silence to the room as the officers contemplated her assertion. By pointed implication, her loyalties had been made clear. The reason Captain Brower had chosen her was also making itself apparent. Lieutenant Rataan glanced around the table, noticing that everyone seemed as satisfied with her response as he was.

Brower allowed a private smile as he witnessed the first signs of Jarok's acceptance into the close knit crew. It would certainly take time, but the foundation had been laid. "Now that roll call is over, let's get on with business. Before I get to the briefing though, I would like to extend a hearty well done to Lt. Commander Brower and his engineering team. Over the past weeks they've worked extremely diligently to get this ship back into fighting shape, and managed to do so slightly ahead of schedule."

There was a round of polite clapping as Darian graciously accepted the kudos. "The faster we got 'er ready, the faster we could get back to the front lines." His jingoistic statement brought more rousing applause.

"I know you've all been anxious to get your shot at fighting the Jem'Hadar," Brower broke in, "but unfortunately this is not that chance." The group was no doubt as disappointed as he, but they held their tongues. "But the mission we have been given is considered vital by the Federation Council to stopping Dominion advancement in the Alpha Quadrant. Mr. West, please proceed."

Lucas West stepped from his seat to the wall mounted computer display nearby. A quick tap of the controls brought up several diagrams and moving schematics he had prepared. "The Yadrani System. Home to the Yadrani Alliance, it's a cornerstone of the governments near the Cardassian Frontier. This loose coalition of border worlds contains some seventy independent planets which the Cardassians have never been able to conquer. Our mission is to evacuate the Yadrani Senate, the ruling body of the Yadrani."

A summary of West's information was being displayed simultaneously on the inlaid tabletop consoles at each seat around the ward room. Each officer took a few moments to scan through the material, which included such things as planetary geological data, population, ecological information, governmental affiliations, and a brief historical synopsis. "Why are we being sent to evacuate a non-Federation world," Rataan asked once he had skimmed the material. "Certainly Avenger could be of more use back on the front lines."

"We are going to Yadrani because that's where we've been ordered to go," Brower asserted. "This is not a situation Starfleet is taking lightly. Our mission here has been dictated by the Federation Council. It seems the Yadrani asked for our help. The Jem'Hadar have begun to move toward the frontier, and the Yadrani are rightly concerned. The Federation Council believes the fewer worlds to come under Dominion rule, the better. Our mission is to reach Yadrani Prime before the Jem'Hadar and conduct the evacuation."

"How are we going to evacuate a planet of more than a billion people?" Jarok asked pointedly, her dark eyebrows arching sharply.

"We aren't evacuating the entire planet," West corrected. "Just the senators."

"The Yadrani are space faring people, why don't they just evacuate their own people?" Rataan asked, undeterred by the sharp response to his last question.

Brower nodded. "They could, but they would have no place to evacuate to. We will be taking the senators into the protection of official Starfleet custody."

His answer brought a tumult of discussion within the ward room. It continued for several minutes before the captain held up a hand to quell the objections.

Lanei looked toward the captain, gaining his permission to speak. "How will rushing these few governmental officials to safety do the slightest good anyway?"

"I agree," Blake piped up. "Why does the Dominion even need the senate? The Jem'Hadar could easily take the Yadrani System by force and set up a Dominion-controlled ruling body in a matter of days. They would've done that anyway."

"Yes, but chances are, they won't," the captain explained. "The Dominion prefers the appearance that governments join their ranks voluntarily. The more worlds it appears they've conquered by force, the more resistance they run into down the line."

"So even if the Dominion overruns Yadrani, if the formal government isn't there to sign a treaty, under duress or not, the Dominion wouldn't consider it a victory?" Lanei questioned.

"The circumstances are a bit more complicated, but that's essentially correct," West answered her.

"Like any war, it's as much to do with politics and propaganda as with strategy and tactics," Rataan observed.

"True," Alista interjected, "though it sometimes takes greater proficiency to plan a political maneuver than a military one."

"Spoken like a true Romulan," Kale muttered. She raised an eyebrow in response and shot him a glare that would have killed lesser men.

Choosing not to hear the comment, Brower asked West to proceed. The XO tapped a second set of controls and the viewscreen image changed to a scenic shot of an artfully landscaped building, gigantic in size, with an officious appearance. In front of the structure's ornate portico stood a gigantic fountain spraying jets of white, cascading water several dozen stories into the air. The thirty-one jets of the fountain were said to symbolize the thirty-one united nations participating in the central Yadrani government. "This is the Yadrani Capitol building. We'll be setting up a primary transport site here," he touched the screen and the outdoor image changed to an interior schematic, which flew past several ornately carved pillars, through a window, inside a monumental rotunda. "Inside the rotunda we'll set up a checkpoint. Lt. Commander Blake, someone from your team will be responsible for establishing the transport pattern enhancers and performing the actual transport."

The chief engineer nodded. During West's explanation he had already chosen his designees. "McKay will handle the transport. Anderson and Parlochov will handle the away chores." For a moment there was a stale bit of silence in the air. "Is something wrong?" He glanced wearily around the silent table. Though he couldn't describe it exactly, Darian was sure the doctor wanted to say something, certain Logan would protest his choice of Schyler Anderson for the away mission. Darian had learned of the relationship between the two, and everyone knew how devoted the doctor was to her. Commentary never came, and Logan chose to remain silent.

"Interesting choices," West replied finally., his undertones indicating he believed it might have been a wiser choice to leave Anderson on the ship for this mission. "Lieutenant Jarok, someone from your team will accompany me to the surface to keep close track on the people and belongings the Yadrani bring aboard. You'll also need to see to their accommodations until we arrive at Starbase 114."

She nodded. "Approximately how many passengers are we talking about?"

"Counting aides, staff, senators, and their families, exactly 912 people," responded Brower, referring to the small data padd he had carried to the meeting.

"Kale, I would like three of your officers to accompany me to the surface for crowd control," West continued.

"I'll go," Rataan volunteered, "with Wells and G'Nar--"

"I would like you to stay aboard, Mr. Rataan," the captain interrupted. "In case things get a little tight, I'll need your sharp eye at tactical."

Kale nodded aptly, vitalized by Brower's endorsement, rattling off his personnel list, he substituted a young Ian Reeyc in his stead.

"And finally, medical," West pressed onward. "Doctor, I'd like you along as well. And I'll need you to review the Yadrani manifest; see if there are any medical conditions which may need close supervision. Also, establish any decontamination procedures you feel might be necessary."

Dr. Chris Logan swiveled his chair, squaring up with the captain at the head of the table. "Yadrani Prime is about as close to an Earth-standard biosphere as I've seen. The bio-filters on the transporters should get everything well enough." The sophisticated filters would screen most known pathogens, microbes, and germs out of the deconstructed subatomic matter stream, rendering them harmless before ever reassembling a person on the transport pad.

"Very well," the captain said. "Is there anything further?"

"Captain," the Deltan science officer spoke up, "Is there anything my staff can do to help? We don't seem to have much to do." She scowled at Lucas, a display of her unhappiness at having been overlooked. True, it was his first time making away assignments, but she didn't want this to become a habit.

"Assist Lieutenant Jarok as her liaison to the surface, and help her tend to our passengers once they're on board," Brower told her.

"We'll arrive in the Yadrani System in three days. Pending any further briefings, transport will begin at approximately eight-thirty," West finished.

"Please make certain all of your personnel are briefed. Dismissed."

Silence greeted her as she stepped off the turbolift onto a deserted deck two. Lanei knew most of the crew was busy preparing for the mission ahead, but it was still an oddity to see a normally busy corridor barren. She passed the mess hall and stopped short of the door leading to the operations manager's office. Mentally she focused, blowing away any stray thoughts or emotions which might cause her meeting with Jarok to go badly.

She entered the office and found the opposite of what she expected. Rather than a cluttered, messy office piled high with padds and logistic reports she found an orderly room with Alista Jarok seated neatly at the desk sipping from a cup of hot liquid.

"May I assist you, Lieutenant?" she asked gruffly.

Lanei shrugged, not exactly sure what she would be able to do. "Is there anything I can do to help with the Yadrani mission?"

She paused in thought, her expression unwavering. "Since the captain ordered you to assist me, I am sending you to the surface as my liaison on the away team," Jarok told her matter of factly. She took no notice of the irritated expression filtering its way across Lanei's face. She handed the Deltan science officer a padd filled with instructions and schedules. "Everything has been arranged. I merely need for you to keep a watchful eye--"

"You know, there's no need for us to be adversaries," Lanei interrupted as politely as she could. In fact, she knew all too well why Jarok was behaving in such an antagonistic fashion. It was the same way she had acted when first at the Academy, and even on her first posting. Being different was difficult, and she often felt the need to try harder, do more, and generally be better than those around her in order to gain their acceptance. And often that kind of drive and determination came with an attitude.

Jarok raised an eyebrow, a more Vulcan characteristic than Romulan. "You believe you understand me... that we are similar because we are both outsiders. Is that correct?"

Lanei nodded. "Essentially."

Jarok arched her Romulan brow further and her dark eyes seemed to flare with intensity. "Then you are mistaken. Do not assume you know anything about me," she warned icily. "I am far different than you imagine."

Lanei returned the fierce stare and her voice took on a deadly serious quality of its own. "And how do you know what I can imagine?!"

"Imagine what you will, Lanei... but what goes on in the mind of a Romulan is far more alien than most of the weaker species can ever understand."

Things were starting to go badly and Lanei took control of her inner emotions, calming them, bringing order back to her thoughts. It brought her brief satisfaction to know that her assessment of Jarok was accurate. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not human either."

"Yes, but you also aren't of a race considered to be one of the deadliest enemies of the Federation."

"We're allies now... fighting the Dominion together."

"A temporary situation, I assure you," Jarok asserted. "Once this war is over, the Romulan people will once again return to their clandestine attempts to destroy the Federation. It is the one constant I know in the universe. Humans dislike Romulans, and Romulans hate Humans."

Lanei winced at her grim assessment. If she were to look at the bright side however, at least Allista believed the Dominion would eventually be defeated. "That's a fatalistic view of your own people."

"Is it?"

For the first time there was an expression on Jarok's face Lanei hadn't seen before, one of remorse.

"My people are among the most treacherous, destructive races in the galaxy. It is only by the cruel nature of the cosmos that I would be born into their midst."

Lanei felt as though she was starting to get somewhere with Jarok, to get her to open up about her feelings. Like her own situation, years of denying what she actually felt had compounded the problem. Allowing Allista to break free of this psychological barrier would make her a much happier individual, not to mention a better Starfleet officer. "Allista, I think you need--"

Before the science officer could say more, the door had opened, admitting Michael Baden to the small office. "I've finished the storage cataloging you asked me to and.." he trailed off absently as he strode into the room with a padd in hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I interrupting?"

"No," Jarok said harshly. "Be in the transporter room at oh-seven hundred, Lieutenant," she told Lanei curtly. "Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do."

Before facing more of the Ops manager's ill-temper, Lanei and Baden scooted into the corridor and went on their way, with Lanei wondering what she would have to eventually do to get Jarok to open up.

Chris Logan smiled as he caught a whiff of the unmistakable scent. Though she wasn't wearing perfume on duty, he knew the pleasant fragrance of the woman he loved. He could see Schyler from the back, her reddish hair draped over the gray and black of her uniform with the gold collar peeking through periodically. He approached, able to glimpse her exquisite face reflected in the viewport she peered through. As was too often the case lately, her characteristic smile was gone, replaced by an imprinted frown. Since her arduous recovery she had faced a great deal, including the harsh realities that Captain Sutherland was dead and the job of ship's Chief Engineer had gone to her Academy classmate, Darian Blake. Her convalescence from Jem'Hadar-inflicted battle injuries had taken months.

She smiled warmly as he sat down opposite her and pulled her hands into his, clasping them tight. Though she seemed fine now, he was still worried about her. After such a close call, he was determined to keep her from harm's way in the future. "What would you think if I told the captain you aren't yet fit for this away mission?" he asked her at last.

She snatched her hands from his, undisguised indignation building behind her dark eyes. "What? Why! You know I am perfectly healthy."

"Physically perhaps..."

She stared at him, her eyes piercing his. They had been over this numerous times before and on every occasion the outcome was the same. "Let's not get into this again," her weary voice pleaded.

"You can't continue to hold this all inside. I know you're upset over Captain Sutherland's death. And losing the chief engineer slot has been eating at you for weeks." That's what this all boiled down to, and they both knew it. Chris knew she blamed him for not doing enough to get her back on her feet in time for the promotion in engineering.

"I don't blame Andrew," she said softly, "and I don't blame you." Brower had made the right choice for the ship, and Chris had done everything a doctor could have been expected to. Logically it all worked out, yet emotionally it was still hard to come to terms with. If she blamed anyone, it was the damned Dominion.

He knew she wasn't being honest with herself, and keeping her emotions bottled up would eventually make matters worse. "You need to talk about what's bothering you," he insisted.

She returned a blank stare. Honestly she wanted to be left alone and Logan's concern was beginning to smother her. "Can we just drop it, please?"

His wounded look did nothing to assuage her apparent frustrations. "I'm just trying to help you." He reached out to stroke her cheek but she pulled away.

"Will you just stop getting inside everyone's head," she snapped. "You are NOT the ship's counselor."

He stared at her for a moment, sadness filling his heart. He truly wanted to help, but she would not allow it. Her emotions and feelings of resentment would get her into trouble. That was why he had already set things in motion. "I've already told Commander West that you won't be joining the away team. I signed the order just before I came down here. As the ship's Chief Medical Officer, I have deemed you medically unfit for this mission. Captain Brower has no choice in the matter." The explanation seemed a bit officious. Less seriously, and with genuine concern he added, "You'll be much safer on the ship." He could see the anger behind her eyes as she scooted her chair from the table and rose.

Schyler's footsteps echoed softly in the carpeted corridor as she departed without a word, leaving the doctor alone in the deserted lounge. He glanced out at the warped space folded around the starship and the Doppler streaks of color soaring past. There was no solace there, and even the stars seeming to spurn him today.

The Avenger dropped from warp and cruised through the modest Yadrani solar system toward the sole planet, Yadrani Prime. Within thirty minutes the ship was in orbit of the lush class-M world blanketed by massive oceans. The gently rotating planet glittered like a jewel on the bridge's main viewscreen, appearing much like Earth. Lucas eyed the swirling clouds which wafted serenely over the vast oceans of the planet far below and thought of home. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been back to Jamaica, but seeing this planet now made him a little home sick for Kingston.

After customary sensor checks and preliminary site surveys, the green light was given for the away team to beam to the surface. At roughly 8:30 all seven of his team members were waiting in transporter-room-two when Lucas West strode in. "Good morning, sir," greeted the transporter chief.

West returned McKay's smile and glanced over her shoulder. "We're getting quite a send off today I see," he referred to Darian Blake who stood just behind her at the control console.

Darian nodded. "Just making sure things are in order, Commander."

West nodded approvingly and stepped up on the transporter pad, turning to face the operator's console. Although he had been beamed into far more difficult situations in the past, this was the first time he had represented the Avenger as executive officer and he was acutely aware of this new responsibility.

He glanced to his left, reassured by the confident demeanor of the ship's doctor. Christopher Logan, although still in his thirties, was a veteran of numerous missions into many uncharted sectors of the quadrant. Not only had he saved scores of lives with his skillful healing, but he had faced death on several occasions. Logan could be counted on in a difficult situation.

To his right was a young ensign, a capable Betazoid officer named Reeyc, though he was far too adolescent in appearance to seem like much of a security guard. Rounding out this first deployment was Ensign G'Nar, another security officer. She rechecked her phaser and slipped it into her belt holster then stepped to the rear of the pad. Her passing gave West only a moment to marvel at her striking alien appearance before his attention returned to McKay. Once he was assured everything on the surface was as it should be, he would signal the rest to beam down. West gave a confident nod to the transporter chief.

McKay bobbed her head in response, made one last cursory check of the status panel, and energized the beam which would disassembled their molecules at the quantum level, send them to the appropriate coordinates on the planet below, and reassemble them.

The familiar tingling sensation enveloped West as the beam engaged. His sight wavered momentarily before a sudden burst of light filled his field of vision. Instantaneously he rematerialized and his eyes focused. He was in a totally different place, now a grand, heavily populated rotunda of a government building on the surface of Yadrani Prime. As his hearing returned to normal he caught many hushed gasps from the assemblage, no doubt a reaction to the first sight of a molecular transporter at work.

Surprisingly, the Yadrani were not that dissimilar from humans in appearance. Their skin, hair color, even facial appearance was largely akin to the Terran norm. As he glanced around the large rotunda Lucas could see that this particular genome was a bit shorter than the average human.

The space around them was impressive, both in scope and furnishing. It appeared sufficiently like most other governmental structures West had visited, yet uniquely awe inspiring. White plaster columns rose up from a polished marble floor, supporting a completely decorative ceiling fabricated from some sort of cut glass. Lustrous moldings framed tapestries of all sizes which hung on every wall. From his best guess, Lucas surmised the painted tapestries depicted scenes throughout Yadrani civilization. Sunlight shone through the glass high above, creating a multifaceted patchwork design all through the expansive chamber, broken only by the shadows of people crowded around the central area where his team stood.

The people were of all ages, the governing elite of this world. They consisted not only of senators themselves, but their wives and children as well. The mass became collectively still as they stood in awe of the arriving strangers. All eyes were wide and breathing was shallow as they waited to be taken aboard the Starfleet ship and a whole new way of life.

A lightly veiled woman stepped forward, offering her hand in greeting. "Welcome," she said in a strong, yet melodious voice, "I am Rhianna, wife of Prime Minister Oclaan. We welcome the Federation and thank you in advance for your assistance."

"We are happy to be of service," Lucas answered. "I am Commander West and this," he gestured towards Chris, "is our ship's physician, Dr. Logan."

"Greetings Doctor. We are most honored by your presence," she offered sincerely. "I only wish circumstances were different so that we might entertain you in a manner you deserve." Rhianna frowned a bit. As the wife of the Prime Minister, her primary duties were as hostess and it dismayed her to think she could not serve in that capacity, especially to the people who might very well be saving their lives.

"We appreciate the thought," replied Logan diplomatically.

"Yes, but I'm afraid time is of the essence," West pressed. "We should get things underway as soon as possible."

Rhianna nodded approvingly and stepped back toward the crowd.

West tapped his com badge, and within moments the remainder of the away team began to materialize on a cleared area of the marble floor a few meters away. Lanei appeared in the point position, flanked by two crewmen with their technical gear, and to their rear was the last, a security officer. The glimmering veil of radiating molecules parted and the away team arrived, eliciting the same fascinated reaction from the crowd of onlookers.

Suddenly an older man with a round face and ruddy complexion jostled his way to the front. "Excuse me, Commander," he piped up, "but is that how you propose to get us aboard your ship?" His voice fluttered with nervous apprehension.

West nodded. "I assure you, it's an extremely safe mode of transportation."

The man began shaking his head, waving his arms profusely. "You aren't going tear me asunder and scatter me across space!" he protested. A growing rumble of voices rippled through the crowd, backing the man's trepidation.

The last thing West needed was a delay thanks to an unsophisticated culture's irrational fear of the transporter. He sighed heavily, looking to Logan. "Doctor, I need you to explain how the transporter works and why it's our only option right now." He eyed Logan pointedly. "It is very important that you stay upbeat and confident. We have to hurry this along."

Logan understood perfectly. He nodded and got to work, his soothing voice attempting to calm the welling apprehension.

"Lanei, perhaps a scientific explanation might allay some fears as well," he told her, seeing that Logan was already meeting with some resistance. She nodded and stepped over to help the doctor.

He turned to the security officers. "You three, fan out, get some info on our location. Help the doctor and Lanei keep things in line if need be, and try to keep things quiet." They each nodded and headed off. Johnson and Parlochov waited patiently for instructions. "I'll assist you two in setting up the pattern enhancers. We have no time to waste."

"Yes, sir," Parlochov answered. Immediately she opened a small equipment locker containing the transponder gear. She started to sort through it while Parlochov took tricorder readings, locating the optimal positioning for the pattern enhancers.

As West, Johnson, and Parlochov hurried to set up the equipment in a configuration that would maximize the ship's transporter capacities, the doctor and Lanei calmly continued to fight their up hill battle, trying to instill confidence in Avenger's transporter systems.

"Transporter accidents are almost non-existent," Logan assured. "I myself have used them hundreds of times with no ill effects."

"Almost?" came an anonymous query.

Lanei smiled at the doctor's unfortunate choice of words. "Yes... almost. Actually, most accidents occurred with earlier systems. Modern transporters are virtually incident free and are the fastest, most efficient mode of transportation to date." A low murmur again rippled through the crowd. Soothing them was proving to be more of a challenge than Lanei initially thought.

Across the expansive room, West and the others had finished placing the pattern enhancers. The dilemma with the transporters continued, so he found Rhiannon. "It was my understanding that your husband would be the first to transport aboard the ship," he inquired a bit impatiently, aware that was not the case. If the Yadrani leader could be convinced to use the transporter first, chances were the rest would come along. "Is he present?"

Seemingly from nowhere a well-dressed man stepped into West's peripheral vision. He was tall and presidential, a definite leader. "I am here," he answered simply.

West turned and smiled. "Prime Minister," he nodded, observing protocol, "if we could get you and your wife to gather your things, we'll begin the evacuation now."

Truthfully Oclaan wanted to be the last to go, as was the tradition of a true leader. "I understand what you hope to accomplish, Commander," he offered, "and it is for that reason alone that I will go."

"Very well, Minister, whenever you are ready," West grinned, inspired by the man's savvy. Making as much spectacle of the situation as possible, he showed the first couple to the transport area. As they made their way, attention of the onlookers slowly drifted toward the activity. Minister Oclaan waved with charisma, and stood just next to Rhianna who had arranged a confident smile, and was facing the crowd bravely. Lucas touched his com badge. "West to Avenger. Stand by for transport, Lieutenant."

In the transporter room Audra McKay checked their status. "Acknowledged. Everything looks good up here. We're ready to begin transport whenever you are." She tapped a control on the console, closing the comm link. The chief engineer circled behind her. "You know, I do know how to operate a transporter," she chided spiritedly. He had been hovering all morning.

Darian looked at her and pretended to smile. "I'm sorry. I know you do. It's just that this is my first official mission as chief, and I want everything to be as it should."

She looked at Blake as if he were hallucinating. It wasn't like him to be nervous. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just a little tense."

"What do you have to be tense about?" she squawked incredulously. "You can do this job with your eyes closed. You know everything, remember?"

Her droll humor coaxed a genuine smile from him. "Do me a favor though. Transporters never were my strongest area. What is the away team's purpose for using the pattern enhancers? There shouldn't be any matter stream interference."

Audra adjusted a control and overrode a warning light. "They're not just used in areas where picking up a signal is tricky. Sometimes the SPEs speed up the transport process, especially in a multi-transport scenario. Because the enhancers provide a confirmed uplink signal, the targeting scanners have to do less work by locking onto the subject, thereby shortening transport time. Since we have almost a thousand people to move, it will probably save us twenty minutes or so. It's not in the manual, just something I picked up."

"See, I don't know everything," he quipped. "I'm headed down to main engineering."

He departed and she wondered if Blake had quizzed her because he truly didn't know, or because he wanted her to think he didn't know. One last signal from West and she activated the console. A luminous glow quickly dissipated and the First couple of Yadrani were standing on the pad. "I have them, Commander," she confirmed with West, certain she heard a relieved breath from the other end of the com line.

Prime Minister Oclaan was accompanied up to the bridge by a crewman from Security. There he was introduced the captain and given a cursory tour of the ship's command area. Oclaan dallied at the science station, watching intently the progress of the evacuation. Eventually he was shown to the aft section of the bridge, out of the way, but close enough to be of use should the captain need him.

"Everything is running smoothly, Captain," West reported via the comm system. "The transport is more than half complete and so far there have been no major problems."

Brower permitted himself a relieved sigh. Things did seem to be proceeding exactly as planned. "Keep us up to date. Avenger out." Monitoring an evac from the bridge tended to be somewhat monotonous, so the captain headed for his ready room looking forward to a few minutes to himself. "You have the bridge, Mr. Rataan. As soon as the transport is complete we should get underway." Just as the doors to his office slid open he heard a warning tone chirp on one of the bridge stations, causing him to halt in mid stride.

It was Jarok's Ops console. "Captain, an unidentified groups of ships has just entered the system."

He stepped from the sunken causeway leading to the ready room back onto the bridge. "Can you identify?"

Kale Rataan coaxed information from the tactical station. "They're Jem'Hadar attack ships. A full squadron." The news was grim, and tension on the bridge ratcheted up a notch. "Nine hostiles, making their way through the system at full impulse. They'll be within weapons range in... eight minutes."

Brower exchanged wary glances with Minister Oclaan, dropped back down into his command chair, then tapped his comm badge, "Transporter room, how much longer?"

"At least fourteen minutes more, captain," McKay's voice sounded on the speakers.

"You've got seven. Bring more transporter rooms on line if you need." He turned to Ops. "Lieutenant Jarok, have the Jem'Hadar seen us?"

Jarok scanned her console with a slight shake of the head. It was hard to be certain. "Unknown. But their weapons are charged and they are approaching in a standard attack formation."

"Then it's a good bet they know we're here," the captain thought aloud. He tapped his comm badge again. "Avenger to West. Commander we have a situation developing up here. I need you and your people to step things up down there." His composure had not changed.

West's voice came back over the channel. "Message acknowledged, Captain." He knew what the captain meant, but said nothing to create a panic among the evacuees. "We'll do everything we can to expedite matters." He eyed the remaining volume of evacuees apprehensively not heeding Lanei's nonchalant approach.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly. Most anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but she saw the distress etched on Lucas' face.

"Dominion troops," he whispered back. West stepped forward, addressing the crowd. "Everyone, if I could have your attention, please. We need for you to speed things up. Leave anything behind that you can." People were a priority now, not belongings.

Tension on the bridge mounted as minutes ticked away. "Two additional transporter rooms are now operational, Captain," Jarok updated. By the time Engineering could bring any more facilities on line, it would be too late. "The transporter chief estimates five minutes more."

Brower's glance shifted to Rataan. "Tactical?"

He shook his head. "The Jem'Hadar will be within weapons range in three minutes."

"We're not going to make it, Captain," West interjected on the comm. "We might be able to get most of the Yadrani... but there isn't time for all of us." The away team would be the last to go, likely not to go at all.

"I understand, Commander," Brower told him. Regrettably the shields had to be kept down while the transporters were in use, leaving the ship extremely vulnerable to Jem'Hadar weapons fire. He would wait until the very last moment to raise them, hoping West was mistaken. In the meantime, he needed to buy some time. "Mr. Jansen, realign our course for polar orbit. Let's see if we can use the planet's magnetic field to disguise our EM signature, maybe confuse the Jem'Hadar." It was an old trick, but he hoped it might give them the added minutes they desperately needed.

Everything boiled down to mathematics. There simply wasn't enough time. Moving the ship to its new vantage point still had only given them a few dozen extra seconds. "Commander West," Brower said carefully. "Time has run out. Avenger must accomplish this mission... but we will not leave you behind."

West smiled at Lanei as they heard the captain speak. The ship was cutting it dangerously close. Without shields, even a stray weapons volley from beyond range could cripple them. Transporter beams whined in the distance and he could see Johnson and Parlochov still working feverishly to get the evacuees into place. "Acknowledged, Avenger." He paused. "Give 'em hell."

Unfortunately there was nothing more to do but prepare for a fight. Until the evacuees and the away team had been recovered, retreat wasn't even an option. Though, when the time came, there were no places to hide, nebulas to conceal themselves in, or asteroid belts to use as a tactical withdrawal. The only celestial body in close proximity was the planet below.

The Jem'Hadar weren't particularly strategy-minded or savvy militarily. They were, however vicious and extremely dogged in achieving a mission objective, usually the total destruction of an opposing force. They were the attack dogs of the Dominion. The Vorta, on the other hand, were sly, cunning, and skillful at constructing military scenarios. Not far behind a Jem'Hadar strike force, there was usually a Vorta holding the leash.

Brower himself was not inexperienced in battling the Jem'Hadar. On a dozen separate occasions he and the Avenger had clashed with them, and had survived to tell about it. Ordering the ship to red alert, he sincerely hoped this engagement would not make unlucky thirteen. Though once again, he feared mathematics would play a strong role in that outcome. Avenger was only one ship against nine. Even under the best of circumstances, their chances were slim.

For two agonizingly long minutes it seemed as though nothing happened. The only movement came from an image of the attack squadron which Jarok had placed on the viewscreen at the captain's request. Everyone else seemed frozen at their posts, carefully monitoring vital systems. Brower was delicately balancing the lives of the away team against the lives of the rest of the crew and success of the mission. If the attack ships were to get off a lucky shot while Avenger's shields were down, it would mean the end of them all. The images of the ships on the viewscreen loomed closer and closer. "McKay, how much longer?"

"Not yet, sir," was the only reply over the channel. In the background a furious pace of activity could be heard. Remaining visibly collected, Brower cursed to himself.

"Captain, they're coming into weapons range," Rataan warned.

On the planet below, the organized chaos of earlier had given way to an all-out melee as the Yadrani pushed and shoved to be next in line for the transporter. West noted that they voiced no misgivings about using the device now. He and his team stood their ground, doing their best to see that everyone was away safely, though doing so meant they would not likely make it themselves.

As she fought to hold back the dozen or so people remaining, Lanei glanced to West hoping to find that he had indeed been wrong. From his eyes, she could tell he hadn't been. "All right," she shouted, "last group, into place!" The Yadrani rushed into the designated area. Thirty seconds more and the away team would be right behind them. Perhaps they would make it.

Brower couldn't hesitate any longer. "Raise shields," he ordered Avenger's tactical officer.

At precisely that moment the shields went up, the lead Jem'Hadar ship fired a warning shot, and the comm chirped. "Captain," McKay's voice broke in, "transport of the Yadrani evacuees is complete."

"The away team?"

"No, sir."

"We've lost contact with the surface, Captain. The Jem'Hadar have put up some type of jamming field." Jarok's console chirped, notifying of an incoming signal. "And we're receiving a transmission from the lead Jem'Hadar ship," she apprised. "We're being hailed."

Brower nodded to her and the image of the growing squadron of attackers was replaced by the solitary image of a Vorta, its pale skin and dark hair sending a chill up his spine. "Ah, Captain Brower, I presume. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ambassador Weyoon," said the male Vorta, sending a similar chill up the spines of all those on the bridge. They all knew of the infamous Weyoon, supreme commander of all Jem'Hadar forces in the Alpha Quadrant. He was far from a mere ambassador. "Captain, I know why you are here. And I must tell you, your mission is destined not to succeed." The Vorta's voice was deceptively serene.

"Why exactly is that, Weyoon?" Brower took a poised step toward the viewer hoping this banter would distract the Jem'Hadar from finding the away team stranded below.

"Because you are going to deliver the Yadrani senators to me and surrender," the alien smirked, his violet-colored eyes casting an icy stare. "Once you comply, you have my assurance that your ship and crew will remain unharmed."

The captain merely blinked at the image on the viewscreen, not quite knowing whether to scoff. He didn't. "Our passengers have asked for my assistance. How could I, in good conscience, turn them over to you?"

On the viewscreen, Weyoon leered perniciously. "Because if you don't, I will be forced to take your away team on the surface into... protective custody." Neither voice nor expression had shifted from his previous dispassionate manner, though the peril was quite clear.

Having had enough threats, veiled or otherwise, Brower ordered Jarok to disengage the viewscreen, severing communications and restoring the view of the approaching ships.

The attackers loomed still closer. "Weapons are standing by," Rataan informed apprehensively. "I have a target lock."

"Sit tight." Something felt wrong to Brower. For several strained minutes longer the Jem'Hadar closed on the Avenger and the planet below, but did not fire.

The captain knew something larger was going on here. While Yadran was meaningful to the Dominion's propaganda efforts, strategically it was relatively unimportant. Yet an entire squadron of Jem'Hadar had been dispatched here, led by none other than the Dominion's top Vorta in the Alpha Quadrant. In addition to completing the mission Starfleet had assigned to him, Brower was now tasked with finding out what was truly at stake here. The lead ship hailed once more.

"Captain," Weyoon's voice was once again serene, "before we allow tensions to get the better of us, I have an offer of friendship."

There was an eerie paused as continued silence hung on the open comm channel.

"I have someone here with whom I'm certain you would like to speak."

Brower shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing that he would definitely not like what was coming. "Who?"

The Vorta nodded to someone out of the viewer's range. In due course a Jem'Hadar stepped into the picture herding a shackled, dispirited man into view. The man wore a tattered Starfleet uniform, and thought Brower could not yet see his face, there was something hauntingly familiar about the figure's dark hair. Within another moment the man was prompted to look into the viewer and speak. "I am Lieutenant Commander Schoen Rutledge of the Federation Starship..." his weary voice trailed off as the man seemed to realize who he was speaking with. "We're here, Commander," Rutledge said, still unaware of Sutherland's death. "All of us."

Brower gasped, standing to face the viewer. Staring back at him was a ghost he had never expected to see again. Rutledge and his shuttle team were believed to have been lost in the Avenger's last battle with the Jem'Hadar months ago. Clearly, they had been taken as hostages.

"Now, captain, as you see, I face a dilemma. I cannot make my gift of friendship unless you produce a show of good faith of your own," the Vorta's voice resounded, now in a decidedly Machiavellian tone.

"Blackmail, Weyoon?" Brower countered. He knew what the Vorta was implying. It was the Yadrani for the captured away team. "Somehow I would have expected more from the leader of Dominion forces on our side of the wormhole."

The alien's face flashed in a burst of anger. "Turn over your passengers, or your crewmembers will be executed." A brief hesitation hung in the air before Weyoon's artificial cordiality reasserted itself. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of rushing your decision. I'll graciously give you five minutes to think it over." He smiled an ambassadorial smile. "But don't take one moment longer."

The viewscreen winked off and stale silence filled the bridge. Captain Brower was at a decided disadvantage. The ship was outnumbered, an away team was stranded on the surface, and several additional crewmembers had somehow been captured and were being used as bargaining chips. The mission was first and foremost, though he owed it to every last man in his crew to help them if he could. But he saw no way to save them all. It was either going to be Rutledge and his fellow hostages or the away team on the planet below. A sacrifice had to me made; someone had to die. Loosing his normally unflappable poise, Brower drove his palm flat against the tabletop. As the pain began to dissipate from his fingers, a grin slowly replaced his scowl. "Mr. Blake, please report to my ready room immediately," he told the engineer via the comm. "I'll be needing those expert piloting skills of yours."

As Weyoon's deadline ticked closer, several remaining Jem'Hadar attackers swooped into the Yadrani atmosphere, taking up offensive positions around the globe. Three more joined the Vorta's ship near the Avenger's position above the northern pole.

Finally Brower emerged from his office, followed closely by Rataan, Jarok, and the chief engineer. Darian rushed into the turbolift and departed the bridge. "Time?" Brower asked.

"Just under one minute," Rataan answered as he settled back in at his station.

Minister Oclaan had no clue what was going on, but it appeared as though the captain had a plan, and it seemed to inspire the crew around him.

Brower strode casually to the center seat and settled in. "Mr. Jarok, signal Weyoon... we'll agree to his demands. We'll drop our shields and standby for transfer of the Yadrani."

Instantly the Yadrani Prime Minister rushed toward Brower, causing two security guards to draw their weapons. "No!" he shouted. "You can't..."

The captain turned and looked up at his guest now being restrained. "Minister, you must trust me." An additional glance to Jarok saw his order carried out. Now they waited as the Jem'Hadar attackers continued to close on their position. He was betting Weyoon would keep his word and give them a full five minutes. The small panel next to his command chair allowed Brower to keep an eye on Darian Blake's progress. "Mr. Rataan," Brower instructed calmly, "lower shields."

Reluctantly Kale disengaged the shield generators and the protective energy bubble surrounding the ship collapsed. The Avenger was vulnerable to assault.

"Captain, we're being hailed. It's Ambassador Weyoon," Jarok notified.

He nodded. "On audio." The main speakers switched to amplify the incoming transmission. On the forward viewscreen four approaching attack ships continued to advance. They were nearing transporter range. His eyes darted down to the flashing status panel next to his left hand.

"I'm so glad you decided to see things our way, Captain," Weyoon's voice patronized "Once we've deposited the Yadrani back on their world, I will reunite your crew members with you, and you shall see this is for the best."

Brower scoffed to himself at the Vorta's insinuation. He knew the Dominion had no intention of freeing his missing crew members, nor would they allow the Avenger to go happily on its way once this had ended. In Weyoon's version of the future, he knew Avenger and her crew would either be captured or killed, or both. "I've come to that realization already, Ambassador, or I wouldn't be doing this." The small tactical display showed the Jem'Hadar ships passing into transporter range. Lt. Commander Blake's team was also showing a green light.

The lead ship dropped its defensive shields to allow transport. "We are ready to begin, Captain Brower," Weyoon informed.

"Things are ready on this end," Brower calmly acknowledged. He slapped his comm badge. "Now!" was his only instruction.

In an instant the bridge was a flurry of activity. With shields still down Rataan fired a salvo of quantum torpedoes and phasers at a second Jem'Hadar ship. Initially their shields held, but multiple blasts from Avenger continued to pound the craft, bombarding it with immense amounts of plasma energy and antimatter explosions. Meanwhile, from the under side of the Starfleet ship, the aerowing shuttle Pioneer detached with Commander Blake's team aboard.

Instantly the Pioneer streaked at high impulse toward the lead Jem'Hadar ship, but Weyoon's men weren't caught off guard for long. They reactivated their shields at once. By this time Darian had skillfully nuzzled the aerowing under the belly of the enemy ship, guiding the two hulls until they mere microns apart. The Pioneer was inside the Jem'Hadar energy shield!

Pitching wildly under the crushing explosions around it, the second attacker spun haplessly of course. Pursued aggressively by Avenger, the ship spun down into the gaseous stratosphere of the spinning planet below. Avenger's weapons still fired as the Jem'Hadar ship gained control and began to counter, but it was too late. The combined explosive force of the weapons salvo and friction from the atmosphere were too much for the ship to handle and it disintegrated into a brilliant shower of sparks, melted alloys, and burning plasma.

"Transporter room, can you get the surface away team? Brower shouted.

Jarok shook her head. "The Jem'Hadar jamming field is interfering with transporters as well."

"Transport complete, I've got them!" Darian heard a voice shout from aft of Pioneer's flight deck. The attack ship looming over them had already started to pull away. He tapped a sequence on his flight console and raised the Pioneer's shields as he too started a full impulse-turn away from the other ship. Shields on the aerowing came on line, colliding magnetically with the engaged shields of the Jem'Hadar vessel. The resulting explosion ripped through the underbelly of the attacker and sent the Pioneer spinning haplessly. Damaged systems fluctuated and a power conduit ruptured, tossing the tactical officer to the deck next to Darian.

He was struggling to regain control of the craft when Rutledge rushed into the command cabin. Darian didn't know this man, but was glad he appeared in good health. Without a second thought, Rutledge darted past the injured crewman and jumped into the vacant co-pilot seat. "Thanks for the rescue," was all he could manage. "Can I lend a hand?"

Blake continued to fight with the helm controls, unable to answer. He watched as Rutledge quickly brought weapons to bear on the enemy ship, though with the aerowing weaving unresponsively his aim didn't seem to be worth much. One lucky shot of twenty struck the still-ailing attacker, dealing it a finishing blow. It careened into the atmosphere and began to break up somewhere over a jungle on the southern continent. Darian wanted desperately to witness the ship's final annihilation, but he was forced to pull the Pioneer out of its steep dive to speed back toward open space, robbing him of the opportunity.

Still inside the atmosphere, Avenger continued to descend rapidly toward the surface, making its way toward the capital city. "Mr. Jarok, do your best to gradually match gravity and pressure with the planet," the captain instructed. "Tactical, continue trying to contact the surface team. Once we reach them, we won't have much time to get everyone aboard." On the viewscreen he watched billowing clouds of the stratosphere blow past, slowly giving way to a patchwork quilt of green grasses and brown soils below. He prayed the away team had managed to elude capture, and wondered about the success of Blake's mission. Neither ship had much time. The remainder of the Jem'Hadar squadron was closing on them rapidly, advancing from the far hemispheres of the planet.

Pioneer darted back into open space. Two Jem'Hadar ships were closing, and Avenger was too engaged with troubles of its own to be of help. The planned rendezvous would have to wait. "I'm Lt. Commander Blake," Darian introduced himself to the part-Betazoid in the co-pilot seat. "You did pretty good with the weapons back there." The injured crewman was still unconscious on the deck with another attending to his injuries. "I'm afraid we're going to need your services at tactical for a bit longer."

Rutledge nodded. "What's your plan?"

"To stay alive." Darian knew the Pioneer was no match for one Jem'Hadar attack ship, let alone a pair. Without their previous cunning, it was unlikely they would have destroyed any of the attackers. Deftly he steered the craft back down into the atmosphere, swooping into the clouds. Pioneer was designed for atmospheric flight, the hostiles were not. While the Jem'Hadar ships could still maneuver, Darian hoped his craft might have an edge.

"What are you doing?" Rutledge questioned.

Vibrations inside the cabin grew more extreme as the vehicle descended into the atmosphere. Darian bobbed and swerved through every evasive maneuver he knew, yet the Jem'Hadar attackers stayed close. Polaron beams continued to lance at the Starfleet ship, but never managed a direct hit. If he were anything other than grateful for his holding luck, he might have thought the situation odd. Minutes passed as the three ships continued their death dance through the clouds of the high, thin atmosphere. "This isn't working," Darian said with disgust, "we've got to get rid of those ships."

Far below the dense, green jungle was beginning to give way to more populated terrain. At breakneck speed the topography rushed by as Darian nudged the Pioneer closer and closer to ground level. Steadily vegetation gave way to random patches of houses, then small towns, and finally the suburb of a more metropolitan area. Ahead, the sensors showed the looming buildings of a city. "I'm going to try losing them in there," he announced to the cabin full of people fixated on their predicament.

"Here they come," Rataan warned.

Four Jem'Hadar attackers were converging on Avenger, their weapons glowing in anticipation. They swooped into the atmosphere and dove for the Starfleet ship. "Tactical," Brower ordered, "target one of the Jem'Hadar ships. Don't spread your fire, target only one. Wait for my signal."

Rataan nodded. The hostiles would be within weapons range any second. And then the sky was ablaze with charged polaron beams and Jem'Hadar torpedoes as all four attackers swooped in for the kill. Several shots pounded the shields. "Direct hit. The ships are closing."

Just a little closer. Brower watched his status monitor as four menacing dots advanced on his ship. "Now! All weapons fire!"

A combined salvo of phasers and photon torpedoes poured from aft weapons arrays, headed straight for one of the pursuing ships. Rather than dilute the weapons fire among all four ships, the combined attack was more than one attacker could take. Its shields buckled while continued assaults slammed into its hull. Another attacker peeled off too quickly, trying to avoid entangling itself in the death throws of its sibling. It carelessly bumped another of the ships and flew wildly off course, slamming into the mountainous terrain below. A fireball on the surface signaled that ship's demise, but the remaining hostiles seemed undeterred. Brower was eager to try again, but it had likely been the last time that particular trick would work.

An instant later a weapons salvo slammed into Avenger's aft section. "Aft shields down to twenty-one percent." Jarok grasped her console as the entire ship shook beneath her.

"They're targeting our weapons systems," Kale warned. But it was too late. Multiple polaron beams sliced through the faltering shields and punched into the ship's aft weapons launcher. The ship continued to lurch violently under the assault, as a powerful explosion decimated the rear section of deck four. "Aft shields are gone! We have hull breeches on decks four and five!"

Brower ordered the ship about to avoid exposing their flank to further destruction. They would have to face the Jem'Hadar and fight. "Re-route power to the forward shields. Lock weapons on target and fire at will!"

The battle continued but Avenger was not faring well. Like birds of prey stalking an injured quarry, the attackers knocked out key systems and crippled the ship piece by piece, careful not to completely destroy the ship and its Yadrani passengers. Communications, warp drive, and phaser systems were off line. They were fighting now with only the forward torpedo bays. Another violent explosion rocked the ship and the bridge lighting winked out, only to reassert itself at weaker power.

"They got the structural integrity field, captain," came a strained voice from engineering.

Without it, the ship would begin to crumble under the strain of continued attack, not to mention its own weight inside the Yadrani atmosphere. Distant explosions still rocked the ship, but much less frequently. The Jem'Hadar could now afford to pick and choose their targets, dissecting the ship at their leisure. "Suggestions?" the captain tried to encourage.

"We need a cloaking device," Rataan replied. Of course, he knew most Starfleet ships didn't have such a luxury, including the Avenger. To survive they would need a way to mask the ship's electromagnetic signature from the Jem'Hadar sensors, and get out of harm's way.

"It's highly unlikely we'll be able to construct any kind of cloaking device before they blow us out of the sky," Jarok retorted.

Kale ignored her. "There must be a natural way to hide ourselves."

Brower viewed Rataan's notion regrettably. They had already tried concealing the ship within the natural magnetic fields of the planet's poles. It hadn't worked. His mind raced until the answer was suddenly right in front of him. On the viewer land had been rushing by at breakneck speed, but now the Avenger had passed over a large landmass and was skimming along the white-crested waves of an ocean. "Mr. Jarok, how deeply can our sensors penetrate the water below?"

The apparent change of subject was perplexing, but she answered nonetheless. "About one kilometer. High concentrations of sodium chloride and bromium interfere with readings beyond that depth."

A harsh jolt interrupted their desperate plotting. A fire erupted on the bridge and two crewmen rushed to extinguish it. "Can you screen through any of the interference?"

She adjusted a few controls and scanned again. "Only marginally. There's no frequency or pattern to the waterborne particles, so there's no reference point to systematically filter them out. I can read to a depth of fifteen-hundred meters below the surface."

Jem'Hadar technology was relatively similar to Federation designs. They had advantages in certain areas, such as weapons, shields, and to some extent sensors. But they held no decisive superiority in that area. Even if they were twice as effective at scanning underwater, that limited them to a depth of three-thousand meters, and Brower gambled that portions of the Yadrani ocean had to be much deeper. Aside from that, energy beam weapons would be nearly useless. "We've found our cloaking device."

"The ocean?" Jarok questioned, reflecting the astonishment of many gasping crewmembers around the bridge.

Brower nodded confidently. "There's thirty billion liters of water out there for us to take advantage of." The maneuver wasn't without risk, he knew. Avenger was a space-going vessel. Certainly it was pressurized and sealed from the vacuum of space, but there were inherent differences between space and matter. The pressures at the bottom of an ocean were tremendous, and without the added strength of the structural integrity field to compensate, the ship could collapse like a paper toy. There were also the hull breeches along the spine of the ship to be careful of. "Mr. Rataan, prepare the ship for a submersible dive. Close all pressure doors and emergency bulkheads, and evacuate all habitable sections near the outer hull."

Jansen spun around at the helm controls toward the command chair. "Sir, she'll be sluggish underwater. The thruster assemblies will need extra power, and the exhaust nozzles may not give us the kind of maneuverability you're used to."

"Understood."

Rataan had been conducting analyses of the proposed operation at tactical. "Captain, I should also caution you; according to my readings, the salt content of the water may interfere with our shields as well. We'll be defenseless down there."

"Understood," he emphasized. Now the only thing left to do was to convince the Jem'Hadar that Avenger was badly damaged and crashing into the ocean, not an altogether difficult task considering the amount of damage they had actually sustained. "Jansen, throttle back on the engines sporadically. Make it appear as though propulsion is failing." Without the inertial dampening field, the deck began to buck and vibrate as the ship decelerated, falling toward the ocean below. He turned to Ops. "Jarok, during the next Jem'Hadar assault, cut all power to the secondary hull except life support and begin a drive-plasma purge of the starboard nacelle." They were going to put on one hell of a show.

Almost on cue another assault from the pursuing attacker ripped into Avenger's failing shields. Immediately the Alpha Quadrant ship decelerated, power systems seemed to fail, and warp plasma streamed from a damaged nacelle. The highly charged plasma ignited and pulsated with energy, leaving a brilliant trail as the starship fell toward the ocean.

Brower watched on the viewscreen as the waves rushed toward them. This is it! "All hands, brace for impact!" In another instant they were in the water.

The ship splashed down violently, slamming into the surface with such force that the resulting wave was hundreds of meters high. As the ship sank below the waves and disappeared the Jem'Hadar pursuer pulled from its dive and circled the crash area, investigating.

Being on board felt like being a bird trapped in a small, wire cage suddenly dropped to the floor. Anything not securely fastened flew from its place and smashed haphazardly inside the bulkheads, including people. On the bridge, everyone struggled to remain at their posts. "We're down!" shouted Rataan. The roar was deafening. On impact metal hull plating buckled and twisted without benefit of the structural integrity systems, sparks hissed and snapped as they erupted from damaged conduits.

"Take us down, Mr. Jansen. As far and as fast as you can," Brower instructed. They needed to get as far away from the Jem'Hadar as possible. In old Earth navy terms, they were bottoming the boat.

Gradually the violent, extreme lurching of the ship was replaced with eerie calm as Avenger descended thousands of meters below the waves, picking up speed as it went. "Jansen, get the ship trimmed out, bring us parallel with the ocean floor." By remaining relatively perpendicular, the ship's aerodynamic design allowed it to glide quickly through the water. Brower needed to start slowing the ship down, and the best way to do that was to put the full surface area of the ship against the rushing ocean, allowing friction to do the work.

A new phenomenon was manifesting itself in the form of loud wails while stresses began to take further toll on the outer hull. Popping and ripping sounds could be heard all over the ship. "We're passing four-thousand meters," Jarok apprised.

"Any signs of the bottom?" Brower wanted to know.

"Not yet."

Gravity continued to accelerate the ship's decent while stresses on the hull mounted. "Mr. Rataan, any estimates on a crush depth?" The captain was beginning to worry that the ship would not survive much more.

Kale watched the computer do the calculations. "According to specs, we won't last much deeper than five-thousand meters." The hull would buckle and fold in on itself, crushing the ship into a compacted mass like an antiquated tube of toothpaste.

"Jansen, thruster control, slow our descent!"

The lieutenant worked deftly at his controls, but the ship was dropping too fast. "We're still descending, sir." The thrusters were having an effect, just not enough.

"Captain," Jarok shouted, "I'm reading a surface. It's the bottom! We'll reach it in eight-hundred meters!"

"Jansen, full thrusters. Slow us down."

He was trying his best but the ship was responding too slowly.

"Six-hundred," Jarok notified, a sense of urgency had replaced her usually sedate manner.

"Extend the landing struts," Brower ordered, hoping to give them any chance at all. It wasn't much of one. At the speed Avenger was traveling, slamming into the ocean floor would shatter every bone in their bodies, killing them all. Jansen's fingers darted across his console while he tried every trick a pilot could think of.

"Four-hundred."

There was very little any of them could do. "Sound collision," the captain alerted. He could feel the ship slowing, but he wondered if it would be enough.

"Two-hundred."

Suddenly Brower had a brainstorm. "Mr. Rataan, fire two photon torpedoes at the surface directly beneath us," he ordered desperately.

As with many recent instructions, the order made little sense, but Kale complied obediently. Immediately two torpedoes sped from the forward launchers and swooped toward the bottom, internal guidance systems piloting them to their target.

"One-hundred."

The weapons impacted. "Direct--" Kale tried to shout, but before he finished the underwater shockwave from the explosion slammed into the ship. Both torpedoes detonated on the muddy slopes beneath the rapidly descending starship. The resulting cloud of silt permeated the jet black water below. Chunks of debris continued to strike the hull.

"Fifty meters!"

If Jansen was reading his wildly fluctuating instruments right, the ship was slowing. Slimy pillows of mud wafted into the depths around them, acting to cushion the ship's fall. Inspired by the added boost, he continued to coax every ounce he could from the thrusters.

"Impact in 5-4-3..." Jarok's countdown continued.

By the time the ship reached the bottom, a heavy jolt reverberated through the spaceframe and Avenger immersed itself clumsily into the settling mire. The explosion had created a viscous cushion of muddy debris for the ship to immerse itself into while the landing struts had absorbed some of the impact. Not only would the murky cloud of mud help disguise the them, but the detonation from the torpedoes would further convince the Jem'Hadar that the Starfleet ship had been destroyed.

Before anyone could begin to recover from the impact, the ship began to feel as though it were leaning down hill. Without benefit of the structural integrity field, the oblong saucer section of the spacecraft became far too heavy. As the center of gravity changed, the ship lurched faster and faster, leaning forward until the top heavy primary hull sunk into the ooze of the ocean floor. After riding out a few more minor mud slides and settling of the remaining debris, the ship finally came to rest at a near forty-five degree pitch.

Brower surveyed the dark bridge, finding most of its inhabitants intact, though most of them were piled against the forward viewscreen, as it was now partially the floor. He prayed the away teams were faring more fortunately. "Damage report."

It had been nearly a quarter hour since the away team last heard from the Avenger. They had stuck close to the beam-out site inside the Yadrani capitol building hoping the ship could somehow manage to lock on and rescue them. It was clear to West and the others that wasn't going to happen. No one said a word as each contemplated what could happen, trapped on the surface with a superior enemy force surrounding them. As it was, the away team was a liability to Avenger, and West knew as much. With them stranded, the captain would be forced to choose between leaving people behind, or carrying out the mission. If he and his team were to be captured, the stakes went up considerably. He wasn't about to let that happen. "All right, listen up," he faced the group and they focused on him intently. "We have to do whatever we can to assist the ship in carrying out our mission, and right now that means not getting captured by the Jem'Hadar." They had a few minutes more before foot solders would be on the ground looking for them, he estimated. "We need to split up, make it more difficult for them to track us. Lose your comm badges." As the Avenger could track and detect signals from the tiny communication devices, so could the Jem'Hadar. "And blend into Yadrani society, acquire native clothing, whatever is necessary... but don't get caught. We'll go in teams of two. Reeyc with Johnson, Lanei with G'Nar, Parlochov with Logan, and Wells, you're with me. We'll rendezvous in exactly four hours at the fountain in front of this building." There was a collective nod of understanding before the group broke up into teams, each flanking out into the capitol complex and the sprawling capital city beyond.

The complex of government buildings was quite impressive, but as West and Wells continued to make their way outward, Lucas noted how the officious facades of the buildings had begun to give way to less impressive, more utilitarian structures. They were now, undoubtedly moving through the business district. They had managed to trade a rather rotund Yadrani for some of the clothes he was carrying home from the cleaners, and were now inconspicuously traipsing through the streets.

Thirty minutes later the pair had managed to cover quite a distance. The capitol building was visible on the far horizon, flanked on all sides by spiraling structures reaching toward the Yadrani sky. "We'll rest here for a bit," Lucas told his human companion, though the muscular security crewman seemed not to require the rest . Giving a tug at his ill-fitting Yadrani clothes, he began to sit on one of the many benches lining the public plaza, then paused. "Do you hear that?"

Crewman Wells listened, then shrugged. "Hear what?"

West was certain he could hear something. "It's almost like the high-pitched whine of a Starfleet impulse--"

Before he could finish, the Pioneer raced past overhead, zipping dangerously in and out of the surrounding buildings. Just as the pair had recovered from the reflexive crouch they had dropped to, a second ship screamed past, this time a Jem'Hadar attacker. "You've got to be kidding!"

The forest of gleaming buildings comprising the capital city whizzed by at incredible speed as the Pioneer darted among them. Fortunately Darian was able to weave among them more easily than the Jem'Hadar pilots, given that his ship was about one quarter their size. Many minutes of this cat and mouse chase passed before one of the attackers seemed to give up and break off. "You did it," Rutledge congratulated.

Darian smiled, but it was far from over. Figuring it was the perfect time to go on a surprise offensive, he angled the ship into a steep bank, pulling the Pioneer into a one-eighty degree turn headed straight for the remaining Jem'Hadar ship. Before the attacker had time to react to this new tactic, Darian took control of the weapons and pounded away with everything the tiny ship had. As the distance between the two ships grew dangerously slim, the attacker finally succumbed and detonated, resulting in a brilliant fireball of exploding gases. With a bit of luck the Starfleet ship shot through the fiery plasma cloud unsinged only to barely miss a gleaming skyscraper looming on the other side.

"Nice going," Rutledge said once they all had a chance to catch a breath. "But why did you take tactical control? I was just about to lock on. If you'd have left things to me, we might not have cut it so close," he referred the near-miss with the building.

Darian's eyes narrowed. He hadn't met Schoen Rutledge until twenty minutes ago, but something about this back-from-the-dead officer didn't sit well. He efforted a minimal expression and shrugged. "Just instinct, I guess. I did it before I had time to think."

An uneasy tension hung between the pair for several minutes. Neither spoke. Ahead the buildings were starting to thin and Pioneer made its way beyond the suburbs of the sprawling metropolis.

A sudden energy shot buffeted the ship. Rutledge glanced quickly at his screen. "The other Jem'Hadar ship is back!" From a high altitude the lightening fast attacker swooped in on the Starfleet ship, firing a continuous weapons salvo. Repeated shots began crippling key systems aboard the aerowing.

Darian swore. He wanted to know why Rutledge hadn't seen it sooner, but arguing about it now was pointless. Again he pushed the ship into a steep dive and headed for any ground cover he could use for protection. The Jem'Hadar pilot was onto him now, however. His evasive tactics had worked only so long. The hostile ship continued to close, firing at will. He looked at Rutledge intently. "Damn it! Squeeze off a shot or two at least!" he yelled at the Betazoid who appeared to be doing very little to help.

Rutledge tracked the aft weapons array and sent two direct phaser burst careening across the attacker's shields and into the hull. "That did it," he announced. "I'm reading a massive power build up. I think their reactor is going critical."

The flight deck was filled with a brilliant blue flash as the Pioneer jolted harshly, interrupting Rutledge's celebration. A direct weapons hit to the exterior of the small ship's crew compartment threw the aerowing's main computer into chaos. Darian glanced ruefully at the dark instrument panels around him. Helm, communications, weapons--everything had been taken out when the computer went down. He grabbed for the manual airfoil controls, the only way to steer the craft without aid from the computer, but it was like trying to pilot a starship with a window fan.

This is it, he thought as he peered at the devilish Jem'Hadar attacker looming just beyond the front viewport. Then a curious thing happened--or didn't happen. The attacker continued to track the Pioneer's course, but did not fire. What were they up to?

Upper atmospheric turbulence suddenly rocked the Starfleet craft as it entered a pocket of lower air pressure. The resulting loss of lift to the airfoils caused the ship to begin sinking toward the ground below like a stone. Just when he thought there was nothing more he could do, Darian noticed the ship begin to level off. Without scanners or sensors, it was impossible to be sure, but it appeared as though the Jem'Hadar attacker had enveloped the Pioneer in a tractor beam and was actually keeping them from crashing. His mind fought to rationalize why an enemy that had just been fighting to destroy them would suddenly turn savior. Unless this had been some sort of game, it all made no sense. Did they want the Pioneer crew as prisoners? Had the Jem'Hadar been toying with them all along? Now that he gave it consideration, it seemed unlikely that the Pioneer had been able to destroy two Jem'Hadar attackers and cripple a third. "This has all been too easy."

"What did you say?" Rutledge asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

"They're toying with us. Look." Darian let go of the air foil controls. Miraculously the ship continued to sail along on the same course when it should have immediately fallen into a nose dive.

"Maybe the computer is back up," Rutledge suggested, glancing again at his instruments. "The thrusters are keeping us aloft."

Darian eyed him carefully. "I don't think so."

In another instant, a blinding flash and powerful shockwave hit the Pioneer. The attacker exploded. "I guess we hit them harder than we thought after all," Rutledge observed.

Before Darian could argue, the Pioneer began a steep decent. There was no way he could hold the controls steady. The detonation of the Jem'Hadar ship had destabilized whatever air currents remained and the aerowing was falling fast. There was nothing to stop it now. "Everyone grab onto something!" Darian shouted. "It's going to be a rough landing."

One and a half horrifying minutes later it was all over. The crash had been one of the most terrifying things Darian had ever lived through. The ship had dived into the thick jungle, crashing and tearing through the trees and other vegetation on the way down. As he stood outside and surveyed the craft, he marveled at the plants all around. Ironically, the dense vegetation which had likely saved all their lives would make it impossible to get the Pioneer airborne again without a tug. At least no one had been killed.

As Blake finished his survey, the rest of the crew and recaptured prisoners piled off the ship into the dim jungle light. "Looks pretty bad," Rutledge observed. "I'm betting she won't be flying out of here on her own." He was quiet for a thoughtful second. "Guess things couldn't get much worse."

"Yes they could," Darian said approaching from the opposite side of the ship.

"What do you mean?"

"On the way down I spotted the wreckage of another ship not far from here."

Michael Baden gasped. "You don't suppose it was the Avenger?"

"No, it was Weyoon's ship... and it's looks like there might have been survivors." Of this entire planet, the Pioneer had managed to go down a mere kilometer or so from the crash site of a Dominion attacker, possibly with its crew of deadly Jem'Hadar soldiers still alive and looking to settle the score.

TO BE CONTINUED...

RETRIBUTIONS II Massive vines hung from the tall trees like giant spider webs entangling skeletons of long-dead beasts. In the distance the eerie sounds of unfamiliar nature menaced occasionally over the pounding rain. High over head the tree canopy all but obscured light from the Yadrani sun and a state of twilight existed even during daytime hours. Darian found the night darkness to be more pitch black than he'd thought possible. In the six or so hours since the crash, he and the others had managed to save what little they could from the Pioneer and set up a base camp deeper into the forest, hoping to elude Jem'Hadar search parties who might spot the wreckage from orbit. They were traipsing about in unfamiliar, dangerous territory without a tricorder. The one they managed to save from the Pioneer had since gone missing.

Worse than the darkness and unfamiliarity of this place, though, was the rain. It seemed it was always raining in this forsaken hellhole.

Every member of the away team seemed tense and strained, Darian noticed, except Rutledge. Since the crash the others had exhibited an underlying sense of fear, but Rutledge was different. Nothing seemed to bother this man, and nothing about their predicament seemed to worry him. Perhaps it was the difference in training, or perhaps it was just because Darian didn't know him, but somehow he sensed there was more to it. These concerns filtered through his mind as he finished a perimeter check, making certain Morran and Turner were all right on their security patrol. He returned to the small base camp and stepped back into the warm glow of the modest heat generator.

He smiled as he approached Michael Baden who stood guard in the center of the small encampment while the two youngest members of the team, Evan Dru and Delane Bareeth, took their sleep shift. Dr. Murphy, the Vulcan Varek, and his good friend Audra McKay were huddled under a tarpaulin in a futile attempt to stay out of the incessant downpour. That left only one individual unaccounted for--as usual. "Lieutenant," he greeted, "where's Mister Rutledge?"

Baden half-smiled, rain droplets cascading off the ends of his short hair into his tired face. "Gone again, sir."

"Where this time?"

"He said he was going to look for you."

Both men knew it was a lie. Over the past several hours Rutledge had disappeared frequently, leaving the group for several minutes at a time. His explanation was always innocent enough, but it bothered Darian nonetheless.

"There you are," Schoen Rutledge said as he stepped into camp nearly on cue.

Darian looked him over conspicuously. "Where have you been?"

"Looking for you," the Betazoid answered consistently. "I thought I might help you with your patrol."

Darian eyed him carefully. The two men locked gazes and a rigid silence hung between them.

Just then Baden shouted a warning as two Jem'Hadar ran into the midst of camp, uncloaking as they came. The energy field which had been masking them from view dissolved and the horrible blue-gray skinned warriors became fully visible. Darian dove for cover just as a discharge from one of the soldier's rifles impacted and rippled across the ground where he had been standing.

Across camp the second solider was headed for the two sleeping men. They would make easy targets and then he would move on to aid his companion in dispatching the rest. He ran silently toward them, unsheathing his small blade as he went. Hoisting the knife over his head he lunged for the neck of Delane Bareeth, who had begun to stir due to the commotion. During his charge an orange energy beam lanced out and knocked the solider off his feet. He spun around angrily and threw himself at the Starfleet doctor who had shot him, trying to knock the phaser from her hand before she could fire again.

The pair rolled to the ground, but Dr. Murphy struggled free and leveled the phaser at the solider point-blank. A prolonged beam incapacitated him, dropping him to the ground. The Jem'Hadar was locked in her sights and she continued to fire. Added phaser blasts from McKay's weapon finished him.

Meanwhile Darian and Lieutenant Baden both wrestled with the remaining Jem'Hadar. He had rushed Darian, knife drawn, and Michael tried to knock him off stride with a lunge. The knife was lost in the skirmish, splatting into the mire which covered the jungle floor. Now both Starfleet officers fought in the slimy mud and were being overpowered by the genetically engineered fighter.

The Jem'Hadar had his hands clenched around Darian's throat, driving him into the mud while choking him to death. Baden rode on the alien's back trying to get his own stranglehold. Bareeth rushed into the fray, knocking the alien off his feet. All four men were covered in muck, and, but for their size, were indistinguishable. The alien regained his footing and shrieked an attack cry but three phaser beams leapt out and struck him. Murphy, McKay, and Dru had taken up various positions and were aiming at the solider. Turner and Morran had also heard the turmoil and come running, weapons drawn, but within another few seconds it was all over.

Everyone remained frozen, waiting to see if more Jem'Hadar troops would rush in. Trying to catch their breaths, everyone kept still. Darian dropped flat to his back, collapsing into the mud exhausted. Unbelievably they had survived this encounter, though he was certain the Jem'Hadar would not give up. More troops would be searching for them. It was only a matter of time.

"Let's get moving," he pulled himself up and instructed at last. As he leaned against a sapling for support, he noticed Rutledge, the only one among them who seemed neither winded nor filthy with mud from the attack. "We've got to move camp before more Jem'Hadar troops are somehow able to pinpoint our location," his words were pointed and inflammatory, aimed at Rutledge, but the Betazoid didn't take the bait.

Darian pulled himself together and started to gather gear. Slowly the others did likewise. He grabbed the open bundle of food rations, sealed it, and began to stow it in the storage pack near the doctor. He looked at her sheepishly. "What does the Hippocratic Oath say? Something about 'doing no harm'?" She didn't respond. "I'm just glad you're on our side."

Her gaze didn't shift from the supplies she was arranging. "The Jem'Hadar are bloodthirsty, horrible creatures designed solely for the purpose of killing. They don't deserve my compassion." The laconic demeanor and harsh tone made Darian believe there was some personal story buried here. He made a mental note to ask her about it again when circumstances were more fitting.

The small group had trudged three hours further into the jungle. Darian stayed with the two security officers leading the way while Varek, the doctor, and McKay made use of a lone anti-grav pallet to carry the group's supplies. Rutledge brought up the rear, but Bareeth and Baden made sure to stick close by him under direct, confidential orders from Blake. Darian had instructed them both not to allow Rutledge out of their sight.

Night had slipped into day once more, though the only real way to tell for certain was a rise in the humidity levels. The dense forest was in a perpetual state of darkness. Consequently it made little difference when they broke for the night to set up camp. Darian could sense that the group was fatigued and needed rest, so they decided to stop in one of the clearer areas they had come across. Along the way they had met with various carnivorous forms of life, deadly vegetation, and hostile birds, but so far they had managed to stay safe without doing significant harm to the native wildlife.

"We'll break for camp here," Darian motioned from the top of a rotten tree stump he had climbed upon to survey the area. "Establish the central area here, with a defensive perimeter extending twenty meters out." They were all exhausted, and pitching camp would not be easy, but it had to be done. "We'll set up a system of security rotations in threes. Morran, Turner, and Baden will go first. Dr. Murphy and I will make camp. McKay and Varek will survey the inner camp for any hidden hazards, and Rutledge, Bareeth, and Dru will take the first rest shift."

Without much talking the group set to work. Distracted with rationing the supplies, Darian was startled when Evan Dru spoke to him. "Sir," the young ensign said, "will we make it back to the ship?"

Darian stopped what he was doing and looked up at the youthful medical technician. He seemed more innocent than the rest, wide-eyed and still full of the naiveté which made life so worthwhile. He stood and put a hand on the Palatian's shoulder, stricken by the deep bluish purple of other's eyes. Even in the near dark their color was remarkable. "We'll make it. I promise."

A few hours later the camp was silent, save the dripping of the light rain still trickling and filtering down through the tree canopy above. Darian and the doctor sat near the center of camp, silently huddled under a propped up blanket to stay dry. The others were asleep, but it was nearly time for a shift change.

A sudden terrified shriek caused Darian to bolt from the lean-to and grab for his phaser followed closely by the doctor. He was certain the Jem'Hadar had found them once more. The shriek came from Morran. The appalling howl filled him with dread. Her blood-curdling screams continued as Darian and Dr. Murphy raced toward them. It took them several seconds to reach her and the screams continued, something which Darian found odd, since Jem'Hadar usually didn't prolong a kill.

As she and Darian burst through the trees Dr. Amanda Murphy caught sight of something which sent her into a state of near-shock. Ensign Morran had been knocked to the ground by dozens of rodent-like creatures. The malevolent predators were literally eating her alive, tearing flesh from her arms and legs, burrowing viciously into open wounds they had already made in her flailing body.

Similar shrieks now emanated from the other side of camp. Darian drew his phaser and aimed it at the creatures. He fired, felling more than a dozen of them, but instantly the rabid brood of rodents turned and attacked. Again and again he fired at them but they continued to pour from the jungle in numbers so large the ground itself seemed alive with the creatures. He ran.

The doctor grabbed her own phaser and fired on the creatures, trying to distract them. A mistake. Instantly they surrounded her, coming from everywhere. They bared gleaming, pointed fangs and hissed menacingly. Instinctively she ran, but they were on her immediately. Now it seemed the only sound she could hear was the clicking of razor sharp teeth as the rodents nipped at her with violent bloodlust. She tried to run, but the creatures were everywhere underfoot. There were hundreds of them.

She jumped and grabbed for a low hanging branch, but her fingers slipped on the rain soaked bark and she fell into the mud of the jungle floor. Instantly sharp pains shot through her legs and she felt the creatures biting at her flesh. Again she stood and leapt for the branch, finally managing to haul herself into the tree in time to avoid dozens of snarling, gaping jaws which gnawed at her heels. Below her the ground was alive with the fur and claws of the feral beasts. The creatures seemed enraged that she had managed to elude them. Furiously they scampered about the base of the tree, but did not climb. "The trees!" she shouted to the others. "Get into the trees! I don't think they're arboreal!"

As she shifted her weight in the tree and tried to climb higher, her phaser fell, bouncing off a lower branch and splatting into the mud below. Instantly the rodents attacked the weapon, obliterating it in a frenzy. Within a few minutes they had moved off, leaving her to tend the gashes in her legs and wonder whether anyone else had survived.

Dr. Murphy covered the last of the bodies, making a silent notation to herself that she had never seen such carnage. Hours after the rodents had done their damage leaving the remaining Starfleet officers stranded in the trees she had the job of cleaning up their mess. Ensign Morran had died, along with Trey Turner and Michael Baden, a man she had served with for three years. She knew his sister, and wondered what she would say to her.

Amanda returned to the center of camp and sat quietly next to Darian Blake. "It's done," she told him flatly.

He didn't respond.

Beneath the layers of grime, his strong face was sullen. "It's not your fault, you know."

"What, that we're lost in this jungle, that we're being picked off one by one by the filthy Jem'Hadar, or that hoards of man-eating rats are trying to kill us all?" he asked rhetorically. His frustration was evident.

"I've been thinking about the way these things went about their attack, and I don't think they were after us at all."

His interest perked up. "What?"

"I think these... things are a type of radiant morthonids."

"A what?" Darian demanded. He had never heard of such an animal.

"Predatory creatures which are attracted to and stimulated by electromagnetic energy."

Darian shook his head, confused. "You're losing me. You think these rodents are some kind of techno-rats that thrive on electricity?"

Dr. Murphy shook her head in frustration. She was a medical doctor after all, not a zoologist. "No, they don't get sustenance from electricity, but they are drawn to electromagnetic waves. Similar to the way moths are drawn to a flame."

"Moths don't destroy candles, Doctor," he observed with sarcasm.

"That's merely my theory," she defended. "Over time this particular species has apparently developed extremely aggressive tendencies toward anything near or around E-M fields. They are carnivorous, that's for certain. But I think what got them so stirred up was our equipment."

That was an understatement. They were the most ferocious creatures he had ever seen. The rodents had ransacked the camp, destroying every piece of equipment they could get to. "Do you have any theories on what we can do to protect ourselves?"

Her eyebrows raised. "I have one... but you aren't going to like it."

He knew what she was going to say. Darian though about what had just happened and the situation they were facing. A member of his team and two of the people he was sent to rescue had been killed, the rest were lost on a forsaken world being pursued by relentless soldiers, and now they would have to give up their only means of protection in order to keep from being attacked by these damnable techno-rats.

She nodded. "Everything. Phasers, communicators, palm beacons... anything that generates an electromagnetic field. We'll have to leave all of them behind."

Reluctantly he nodded. "We'll wait another hour or two to make sure those things are gone and then we can cart the remaining equipment into the jungle and away from camp." Hopefully that would be enough.

The corridor was at an odd angle and it took several minutes for the pair to climb the slippery surface of what was once the walls. To make matters more difficult, ice cold torrents of water poured down from somewhere overhead, soaking everything and making a sure foothold impossible. Captain Andrew Brower reached the topmost part of the climb, braced himself against some debris, and broke out his palm beacon. Shining its bright beam of light upward he saw where the water was coming from. Around Avenger's emergency bulkhead which sealed deck four from the ocean above, water leaked profusely. It was the same thing they had noticed in two other places. "These bulkheads won't hold much longer," he told the soaking wet engineer clinging on beneath him.

Schyler Anderson nodded, wiping aside soaked strands of hair which blocked her eyes. Water splashed down all around her and her bottom lip quivered in the frigid shower. "I've got crews reinforcing the other two bulkheads on this deck. They'll come here next and begin shoring up deck five after that."

"What about the structural integrity field?" he yelled down, trying to be heard above the roar of the rushing icy torrent. The SIF was a top priority. Not only would it help reinforce the hull against the mounting pressure of the ocean outside, it would keep the vessel's own weight from snapping the ship in half. He also knew both procedures were only stopgap measures. The ship couldn't stay underwater forever, and sooner than later they would have to break free of the ocean depths before the waves became a watery tomb for them all. Of course, regaining propulsion was an entirely different problem.

"Where ARE they?" Lucas muttered.

"Just be calm, Commander," said Chris. "We don't want to grab THEIR attention." The doctor gestured at the Jem'Hadar platoon that marched through the city square, heavy boots thumping on cut stone. The native Yadrani that crowded the square quickly scurried out of the scaly alien soldiers' way. The hole in the crowd was quickly refilled as soon as they passed.

Six Starfleet personnel stood or sat near or on the circular water fountain that filled the square. They all remained alert yet attempted to look relaxed. Each was dressed in native Yadrani wear. Lucas did not ask how they had gotten a hold of their clothing. He had been forced to trade for a pair of breeches and a billowy shirt from an rather large man on his way home from the cleaners. The others were dressed differently, but not conspicuously according to Yadrani standards. There was a variety of common garb, from shirts and pants to tunics. Ensign G'Nar wore a cloth cloak and hood to disguise her obviously off-world features.

Chris gave Lucas a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "They'll be here," he said.

Lanei and Crewman Wells had not yet returned. Lucas had said to rendezvous in four hours and the two were now fifteen minutes late.

"And here they are," said Chris as two Yadrani-garbed Starfleet crew hurried over to them. Lanei wore a simple gray dress and a coif to cover her head. Baldness was not a common trait for Yadrani women.

"Sorry we're late," Lanei said, panting slightly. "The Jem'Hadar have set up a checkpoint a few blocks over. It took us awhile to figure out a way around it. This whole city seems to be swarming with Dominion troops. Have you had any luck trying to contact the ship?"

Lucas shook his head and fingered the communicator hidden under his shirt. "No. We haven't been able to raise them. They may have moved out of range or the Dominion may have erected a scattering field over this area."

"Or they may have been destroyed," G'Nar said sourly.

"That's enough of that kind of talk, Ensign," Chris said sharply. "We need to keep a positive attitude if we are going to get out of this."

"Agreed," said Lanei. "So what do we do now? The Dominion probably knows we are down here and the Jem'Hadar have the city sealed tight. We can't leave."

"If we keep moving, it should take the Jem'Hadar longer to find us," said Lucas, "giving the Avenger that much more time to locate us." He looked up at the early afternoon sun as it cast its rays down upon the planet. "Gather the others," he told Chris. "We're going to see if we can find a place to stay for a few days. Maybe we can work out a deal with one of the local inn-keepers."

"Right," said Chris. The doctor seemed enthusiastic enough but Lucas could tell he was worried about something other than their current predicament.

"What was that?" a panicked whisper asked of Darian. He snapped from his light sleep and became fully awake, praying the killer rodents had not returned. All around him the night was as black as the hypothesized center of a black hole. He sat upright from his dank resting place on the wet, grimy jungle floor. Then he heard it, a high pitched whining. Nearly silent, but extremely deadly, it was the sound of a Jem'Hadar disengaging his personal cloaking device.

"They've found us again!" he shouted. "Everyone take cover!" Blake's mind raced as he darted for a group of nearby tree trunks--rather the direction where he remembered the trees to be, as the darkness was complete. How had the Jem'Hadar found them again? And why were they pursuing his dwindling group so relentlessly?

His mind raced as he rushed for cover. Occasionally brilliant flashes of light illuminated the secluded campsite. It was weapons fire from the Jem'Hadar. From the limited number of shots, it seemed as though there were only one, possibly two soldiers in the attack party. He heard Doctor Murphy scream. She had been hit. He turned toward the sound of the cry to offer assistance, but was blindsided by another body running at full speed. He was knocked off stride.

Evan Dru gasped from the collision and he too was sent wildly off course. "Commander, is that you?" he asked, winded and nearly incoherent.

An instant later more weapons fire illuminated the surrounding jungle growth and cast eerie eclipses of light and dark across the unfamiliar terrain. In the brief millisecond in which his eyes were able to adjust, Blake though he saw the ominous ridgeline of a gorge just in front of him. Still stumbling, he tried to get his balance and keep himself back from the perilous edge. More shimmering weapons fire. Indeed the mouth of a ravine gaped up at him, and he couldn't see the bottom.

Before he could warn anyone, another body slammed into Ensign Dru then into Blake, tipping them like humanoid dominoes. Too near the edge, the commander slipped and began to slide down the precarious slope. As he fell, he could feel the muddy bank for meters in every direction giving way.

A mud slide had started on the rain soaked hillside, and they all fell. Everyone who was nearby skidded, lost balance, and tumbled over the edge out of control. The noise of the mud slide all but drowned out the thuds and yelps of pain from the entire group of Starfleet officers and Jem'Hadar smashing downward in one heap.

The plunge seemed to last minutes. In the darkness Blake could feel only sharp edges of rocks and trees scrape past as he fell along with the pulpy vines and pliable bodies that were falling with him. Several times he could literally feel his skin being peeled away in layers on the way down.

Finally they landed, a slimy pile of mud, plants, and people. In the ravine there was no overhead vegetation to obscure the light and faint moonglow illuminated the heap. Darian mentally checked his body, pleased to find that he was intact for the most part. Then, with considerable alarm, he realized his cheek was rubbing against the scaly surface of a Jem'Hadar scalp. He shouted, pushing the limp body away, relived to find that it offered no resistance. An apparent broken neck was the reason.

Carefully they all began to extricate themselves from one another, taking care not to do further damage to anyone who was injured. "Is everyone all right?" Darian called into the near darkness. "And where is the other--"

Just then the second Jem'Hadar leapt from the pile and lunged with all his force back down onto the pile of hapless bodies. His silver blade gleamed as it plowed through the air toward its target. Evan Dru rolled over in sheer terror as the menacing solider dove upon him. As the blade sliced at him, the young ensign scrambled to his knees and dodged sideways, escaping a lethal gash to the neck. The Jem'Hadar fell upon the fleeing Centaurian and took him to the ground once more. The pair rolled, becoming a tangle of muddy and flailing limbs as they wrestled for supremacy. With a shriek of anger and venom that surprised everyone, Evan suddenly lunged with all his might, driving the startled Jem'Hadar off and backward. The Starfleet officer continued to push and yell, forcibly shoving the alien with all his might against a branch torn lose in the mud slide. The jagged tree limb pierced the warrior's armor, then his organs. His body went limp.

Everyone gaped in stunned silence. Evan collapsed into the mud and passed out. Darian rushed to him, making certain he was all right. "What about the rest of you?"

Slowly the group began to check themselves once more. Most everyone was bumped or scraped, but intact. All but Delane Bareeth. The Bajoran security officer was obviously in extreme pain, though he was trying to keep it quiet. "What is it, Bareeth?"

"My left ankle," he grimaced. "I think it's broken."

Darian looked at the man's ashen face, then scanned the faces of the group searching for their medical officer. "Are you all right, Doctor?"

She nodded and stuck her hand inside her jacket, poking two fingers through a singed hole in her uniform. "Yeah, that shot grazed my shoulder. But I should live."

"Good. Then grab the medkit," he told her soberly, "because he's going to need it."

The others pulled back to give her some maneuvering room and to keep from casting shadows on the doctor's work area. There wasn't enough light to work by as it was.

Darian carefully pulled the crewman's boot, eliciting erratic breathing noises from Bareeth. "Sorry," he whispered. Something seemed to be restricting the boot's movement, and every time Darian tried to gently coax it off, waves of pain radiated through the injured Bajoran. With one firm pull, he yanked the boot the rest of the way off, hoping to get it all over at once. Bareeth wanted to yelp in pain, Darian could tell, but the young crewman held it in.

Dr. Murphy moved in for a look., but even without her expert diagnosis Darian could tell the man's leg was badly broken. Tiny shards of bone were protruding through his skin near the ankle joint.

Darian pulled back. The sight sickened him, but more stomach wrenching was knowing that there was little Dr. Murphy could do for him. Without most of her medical supplies, including a hypospray, there was little which could ease his discomfort. As he pulled back and rested against one of the many large boulders strewn across floor of the rocky ravine, he once again noticed that almost everyone had aches and pains from their fall. Everyone except Rutledge, who seemed completely unaffected by the fall. Privately he made a decision; something had to be done about this problem.

It took nearly an hour and a half for the doctor to get a makeshift splint in place around Bareeth's critically broken ankle. During that time they were even more vulnerable to further Jem'Hadar attacks, but Delane could not be moved. Darian would not leave him behind.

Finally the group was underway, traipsing through the rocky ravine. Evan Dru was assigned to scout ahead in Bareeth's place, while Blake, Rutledge, the doctor, Varek, and McKay aided in carrying the wounded security officer. Soon it was morning and amber light spilled over the edge of the chasm. For the first time Darian took note of the fact that it had stopped raining. Perhaps their fortune was starting to improve.

Suddenly there was a yell from ahead. It was Dru. "What is it, Ensign?"

"Sir, you'd better come see this."

Hurriedly Darian climbed over the increasingly rocky terrain. It seemed the ravine had come to an end and where the gouged out surface of the gorge ceased, vegetation thrived. He pushed through a clump of heavy overgrowth and fought his way past thick vines until he emerged into another area relatively clear of vegetation. Evan was there, gazing upward. Looming in front of them was a massive wall--part of a larger structure, obviously a city. Judging from its present condition it had been abandoned for some time. As he stood and looked, the others emerged from the jungle, entranced by the mythical sight.

The ruins of the ancient Yadrani city stretched out into the dense, overgrown foliage and disappeared from sight. It was hard to judge its size, but the long-forgotten metropolis was enormous. Blake's group had obviously emerged from the dense forest near what must have once been the city's main gate. Even if the place was abandoned, Darian thought there might be something inside which could help them contact the ship, or at least allow them to hide from the Jem'Hadar. "Anyone got ideas about what might be in there?" he asked them.

"It looks like some type of primitive Yadrani city," Evan stated the obvious.

"Our tricorder would sure come in handy about now," Audra lamented.

Amanda Murphy shrugged after briefly eyeing the structure. "The dense tree and plant growth suggests it hasn't been used in quite some time."

"Without our equipment, there isn't a lot more we can learn from a visual survey," Evan volunteered, trying to amend the silliness of his previous comment.

Brower nodded. "But with any luck, we'll be able to find a safe, unoccupied place to hide ourselves in there." He was tired of traipsing through killer weeds and dodging poisonous animals--not to mention trying to stay one step ahead of the murderous Jem'Hadar, who always seemed to find them somehow. "Rutledge, you were a tactical officer, do you any suggestions on the best way for us to proceed?"

The question seemed to catch the Betazoid off guard and for the first time Darian noticed that he appeared shaken. It wasn't much, but Darian noticed. "Uh.., no, not really," Rutledge answered.

"All right," he announced to the group, "we're going inside. Stay together until we find a place to make camp." At least they would have shelter if it started to rain again.

The abandoned city was more beautiful than Darian would have imagined from his first glimpse. Though most of them showed decades of wear, the buildings were constructed with white plaster facades which still gleamed in the bright sun. Now clear of the jungle trees overhead, the intense Yadrani sun beat down on the group, making the humidity seem worse. Towering spires reached skyward telling of the city's prior importance. Beautifully constructed plazas and public areas mingled between crumbling buildings of once-regal proportions. Cultivated gardens now grew amuck with weeds and jungle trees. The spaces of the immense city gave Darian the sense of great municipal power. Conceivably this was once a provincial capital, or perhaps the ruling seat of the entire planet. Now, strangely, the city's majesty had been abandoned to fend for itself against the elements and ravages of time.

The group made their way carefully through the avenues and plazas mindful that the Jem'Hadar could be watching, waiting to ambush them at any moment. After hours of exploring and trudging from one abandoned building to the next, an attack had never come. Every part of the city seemed to be uninhabited and there was no real worry of stumbling into an area where someone might protest their presence.

Finally they came upon a building which Darian considered the best he'd seen for making camp. It was evening and the gleaming white of the buildings had yielded to the violet reflected hues of twilight. The structure had once been an office or agency, or some other official facility. In that regard it was no different from countless buildings they had passed, but this structure sat alone on a wide plaza, open on four sides with easy avenues of escape into the buildings on either side--perfect should the Jem'Hadar attack. A simple four-point perimeter was established and the group settled in for the night.

Morning brought an early dawn and bright golds beaming through the windows into the large lobby where the Starfleet group was camped. In all, the night was uneventful with the exception of a small bird which had landed in the courtyard during the late hours sending initial panic through everyone.

Rested, if not relaxed, they broke camp and headed off once more to explore the city. Darian's goal this day was to find some way of communicating with the ship, or at least letting Captain Brower know where his team had gone. Short of that, he hoped to find a place to make camp the next evening, should it be necessary. To cover more ground, they agreed to split into teams. The doctor and Varek would accompany Bareeth to aid with his injured ankle, Dru was assigned to go with Rutledge, while Blake and McKay set off together. They would rendezvous at noon.

Darian and Audra McKay patrolled each of the side streets on their route exactly how they had been taught. With precision they moved in and out of the buildings, giving each other cover and back up. Without speaking they knew what the other was thinking. Partially it was Starfleet training, but a lot of it stemmed from their long standing friendship. They had known each other for almost a decade and it was comfortable for them to be together.

"Do you think we'll make it back to the ship?" she asked finally.

He hesitated thoughtfully. "If there's a ship to make it back to." His response was candid, but she didn't hold that against him. The odds hadn't been good for Avenger.

They continued on in relative silence, making chit chat when it was appropriate. At last they turned a corner and stumbled upon an imposing structure neither had expected. It was apparently the capitol building, which only stood to reason if this city had once been a government center.

The building was enormous. Several stories up a giant rotunda rose above the imposing facade. Obviously the building had once served a primary function for the Yadrani. White stone steps led to an open entryway beyond a series of decorative but understated columns. In the outer courtyard fountains no longer contained water, but cascaded with indiscriminate plant life instead.

"Should we go inside?" Audra asked hesitantly.

"It's probably deserted," he assured. The rest of the city was.

The pair headed up the steps, pausing in the immense portico. Once their eyes had time to adjust to the lower light levels inside they proceeded cautiously. In many ways, like dozens of other structures they had surveyed, this one in particular was more palatial. Even after decades of neglect the marble floors still appeared to shine. The fixtures were all of a burnished metal or glittering crystal and Audra was amazed no one had pilfered these valuable pieces of salvage.

The deeper inside they went the more impressive the structure seemed. Overhead a broad, multi-faceted skylight covered the rotunda. Many of the individual panes had since cracked and fallen to the floor stories below, but the elegant glass pattern was still discernible. The openings cast ghostly shafts of patterned light down into the open room. A giant staircase wrapped around the rotunda and they began to climb the wide treads to the spacious upper levels. "Does it feel to you like we're being watched?" she asked him finally.

He hesitated. The building was deserted. They were greeted only by unearthly silence. There was nothing to suggest that they were being watched, much less in danger. Yet the hairs on the back of his neck twinged. He stopped.

Audra halted mid stride, watching as he closely scrutinized their surroundings. Carefully he walked to the edge of the staircase balustrade. The chamber below was still empty. As he leaned back, he observed the generous amounts of dust and dirt which had collected on the railing. Like Audra, he had noted earlier how clean the marble floors appeared. Yet other surfaces were filthy, especially ones near the broken skylight. Upon closer scrutiny, the floor looked as though something had been pulled across it repeatedly, removing dirt and debris along the way. Something had been keeping the floors clean. Or lots of somethings.

"Stop it. You're creeping me out," she whispered.

"Shhhhh."

Audra began to look closely at the shadowy recesses of the rotunda. Slowly thousands of tiny, glittering reflections revealed themselves and winked back at her. Eyes!

"Audra, turn around very slowly," Darian barely breathed the words. "Follow me out." While she had been looking at the eyes looking back at her, he had seen what she had not. Below them the rotunda floor had slowly come alive with the crawling bodies of thousands of rodent-creatures, the techno-rats. Apparently intent on investigating the newcomers to their realm, the rats were moving closer, noses twitching, eyes bulging, some of them even pausing occasionally to stand on their hind legs for an extra sniff.

The creatures' mere appearance was menacing, but Darian had seen them in action. They were vicious killers. A dozen of them could kill a man. He was terrified to think what thousands of them could do.

Slowly the two eased their way back down the stairs. The rats had now gotten close enough to smell. Audra wrinkled her nose at the foul odor. They came closer still. One brushed her pants leg and she screamed.

"Shhhh. Don't frighten them."

THEM! she thought. Sweat poured down her face and she could feel herself about to pass out. The vile animals were appalling. Her autonomic fight or flee response had definitely been triggered, though she could do neither. Gingerly they continued to shuffle closer to the door.

Initially timid, the creatures became more and more bold. The rats now covered every square inch of the floor and the two humans were extremely careful about putting their feet down. They continued toward the entrance, now only another twenty meters or so.

At the inner vestibule a pair of the creatures darted up Darian's leg and raced around his torso. The weren't interested in him, but were rather chasing one another. It took every ounce of his inner strength to leave them be.

Audra nearly fainted. Thankfully they were at the outer doors now. With one step more they cleared the front doors and immediately bolted into an all out run.

Darian grabbed the two creatures using him as an obstacle course and gently lifted them off, dropping them on the stone sidewalk. Neither he nor Audra looked back to see if they were being pursued. It would make little difference. The creatures were so quick that they could easily have been outrun.

The gnarling fangs did not give chase, however. Neither officer spoke as they darted among the streets headed for the office building rendezvous. It was one of the single-most terrifying sights Audra had ever witnessed. She had seen what those beasts were capable of, and to see their beady eyes staring at her was more than she could take. They ran faster.

She and Darian bolted inside the door at the rendezvous, slamming it shut behind them and dropping onto the floor in near exhaustion.

"What's the matter?" Dr. Murphy implored. There wasn't time for an answer.

The doors flew open once more with Dru and Rutledge darting in, barely allowing light to follow them inside before easing the door shut again.

"What's the matter?" an alarmed Murphy asked again.

Evan took another second to catch his breath. "We barely managed to give a squad of Jem'Hadar the slip. They definitely know we're in the city."

Schyler and her repair teams had spent dozens of hours patching holes and pumping out water. But they were running out of time. Finally an epiphany had come to her, of all times when she was draining the make-shift bilge pump on deck three. To her it was a viable idea--the only one they had. Now she was getting nothing from resistance from the engineering staff whom she had proposed it to.

"You've got to be kidding!"

Schyler Anderson raised her eyebrows at the protesting lieutenant. "No, I'm not, Mister Nor."

"There's no way it will work!" Hyper Nor continued to object to her CO's plan for righting the ship and pulling it from the murky depths of the Yadrani ocean all around them.

"I say it will."

Nor harumphed again as her lightening fast mind ran through the various calculations necessary for Anderson's proposed maneuver. She knew the intricacies of warp drive propulsion better than almost anyone aboard a starship. It was her specialty. Again her conclusion was the same; what Schyler was suggesting was not possible. "How do you plan to overcome the variances in field geometry between the nacelles?"

Schyler's determination was unwavering. "They'll be compensated for."

"The computer can't do those kinds of corrections," Nor countered. "Even if the safety overrides were engaged, it's not possible because the computer simply was never given the ability to control those aspects of the field generators. The designers never saw the need for it."

"I don't plan on using the computer," Schyler revealed at last. "I'll make the adjustments manually from one of the field flow control rooms." There was stunned silence throughout the conference room full of engineering officers.

Her plan, to use the warp field generators to envelope the ship with a high intensity warp pocket, was so unorthodox it was difficult for the others to counter with arguments why it wouldn't work. Essentially the bubble would envelope the ship creating an artificial environment where the effects of planetary gravity were nullified. The ship would be less dense than the surrounding matter and would begin to rise to the surface, freeing itself from the muddy slopes and extreme pressures of the ocean bottom. Once Avenger had reached the surface, the impulse engines could take over. There were drawbacks, however. The high power necessary for the maneuver would necessitate routing all power from every other system on the ship, including life support, flight control, and sensors. In addition, when the ship became weightless, so would its inhabitants and all of its contents, making it more difficult to keep control over the maneuver. To top it all off, Schyler was now proposing to make crucial adjustments to the field controllers manually--something that was nearly impossible, not to mention extremely hazardous.

"Let's think about this logically," Nor implored, casting a sneer at one of the Vulcan officers. T'Nar was seemingly worthless in offering any useful opposition to Anderson's idea. "Even IF you were able to make this work, there's a very good chance you won't survive."

Schyler smiled. "If you'd like to implement logic, I believe there's a Vulcan proverb which states something about the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the one." She eyed T'Nar for his confirmation. His raised eyebrow sufficed. "If I don't do this, ship will eventually be crushed and you'll all be killed."

Nor looked at her. The rest of the group remained silent. "Ok then, I'll be assisting you," she asserted.

"Now wait just a minute," Anderson protested. "You can't just--"

"What? It's good enough for you to sacrifice your life for us all, but not me? Besides, there are TWO nacelles, TWO warp field control rooms, and TWO sets of variables which need monitoring. You'll need a partner. Unless I'm wrong, you're only ONE person."

Schyler locked gazes with the determined lieutenant and knew Nor was right.

"Anything?" Lanei asked hopefully.

Lucas shook his head with disgust. "Nothing," he said, coming down the stairs of the fifth lodge they had visited that day to the Avenger crew waiting on the sidewalk. "The Jem'Hadar occupation is making everyone nervous. The inn-keeper isn't renting rooms to anyone he doesn't know personally."

Chris sighed. "That's what the last four said."

The setting sun was quickly approaching the horizon. It touched the rooftops of the surrounding structures. Lucas did not want to have to tell his people that they were going to be sleeping in an alley for a second night. "Come on, let's keep looking."

The group of eight people continued down the narrow sidewalk. In this section of the city everything was much older than the rest. The streets were narrow and cobblestone. They winded like snakes up and down small hills. Lining them, the buildings were narrow, most no larger than three or four stories high. Each was butted up against another. Their roofs were heavy stone with projecting cornices. Most had chimneys which were unused. Modern heating systems made them unnecessary.

A Jem'Hadar patrol, the third they had seen this hour, came down the gently sloping hill. Each gripped his deadly-looking weapon, lizard eyes scanning roofs and sidewalks.

Lucas and his group kept their heads low, bent towards the sidewalk, until the patrol had passed. Cowering from the vat-grown killing machines was quickly growing tiresome. Wells and G'Nar had voiced their opinion long ago to take a more aggressive stance. But Lucas' first priority was to keep his people alive and that meant avoiding fire fights if possible.

The crowds on the street were beginning to thin out with the approaching dusk. Workers were returning to their families. Lamps along the sidewalk began to switch on, casting pools of light.

After the seventh rejection of room and board, Lucas was beginning to give up on the idea of shelter for night until Lanei pointed down the street and said, "Look. There's one more."

The lodge was smaller than most of the others. A glowing sign above the door announced it as "The D'Kori Street Inn" in Yadrani script. Light came from the ground floor windows.

"The proprietor will doubtless reject us as the others did," G'Nar groused.

"Won't hurt to ask," said Lanei. "Come on, Commander."

The others made themselves inconspicuous on the street as Lucas and Lanei hurried up the stairs to the front door. Lanei turned the knob, admitting them into the empty common room. There was no one behind the reception desk. The room was lightly decorated in a Yadrani style that was common.

Lucas noticed light coming from under a wooden door located near the staircase that led to the rooms above. Perhaps it was a private apartment. Lucas rapped his knuckles against the door. "Hello?" he called out gently. "Anyone here?"

"Go away," came a gruff male voice, muffled from the other side.

"Sir, we would like to get some rooms for the night."

"Look, Mister, I have a sick child in here," said the voice. "I'm not renting any rooms. Go!"

Lucas thought for a moment. "Sir, we have a doctor with us," he said.

There was the sound of shuffling and bolts unlocking from the other side. The door opened with a creak and a single cool green eye stared back at them.

Lanei smiled politely and gave a small wave. "Hello."

"You say you have a doctor?" the man on the other side asked, slight disbelief sounding in his voice.

"Yes," said Lucas. "He may be able to treat whatever is ailing your child."

The man opened the door all the way. He was thin and middle-aged. His salt and pepper hair was beginning to bald and he had bags under his eyes. Behind him was a small, one-room apartment. Lucas could make out a little girl lying on a sofa, covered in blankets. She was pale and appeared to be shivering. "Bring your doctor and we'll talk," said the man.

"Go get him," Lucas told Lanei. She hurried out and quickly returned with Chris in tow.

Chris pushed past the man and made his way over to the girl. He squatted down next to her smiling. "Hi there," he said gently. He touched her forehead and her eyes fluttered open. "I'm Chris. What's your name?"

"Eloisa."

"That's a very pretty name. I'm going to see what's making you feel bad, okay?"

She nodded as he reached into the inconspicuous black bag he had transferred his medical instruments into earlier. He pulled out a medical tricorder, opened it, and began scanning her with the small cylindrical peripheral device.

"Don't you have a doctor?" Lanei asked the innkeeper as Chris worked.

The man kept his eyes on the medical officer while saying, "He refused to come. Those soldiers are making a lot of people too scared to leave their homes." He stared for a few moments before saying, "I've never seen medical instruments like that before." He eyed Lucas and Lanei. "And you're a lot taller than most people I know. Who are you?"

"We are Starfleet, with the United Federation of Planets," answered the commander. "We were assigned to help evacuate your government. We were trapped here when the Dominion attacked our ship. We have been trying to get in touch with our captain but we have been unsuccessful. We have also been hiding from the Jem'Hadar."

The man shook his head. "I had a feeling the Senate would be too cowardly to protect us."

"Actually," said Lanei. "It was to your advantage that they were evacuated. To the Dominion, it is not a real victory unless they control the government."

The man shrugged. The politics of intergalactic affairs were beyond his region of interest. He had an inn to run and a daughter to raise.

"A-ha!" Chris said triumphantly. His hand which held the peripheral sensor hovered over the girl's chest. "Found them. Denebian respiratory parasites. Nasty little things. Hard to find but easy to treat." He glanced up at Eloisa's father from his tricorder's small algorithmic display. "Has she been exposed to any off-world animals recently?"

"She and her friends sometimes play in an empty lot near the import yard at the space port," said the man. "I tell her not to go there but she's got a mind of her own."

Chris nodded as he rummaged for his hypospray. "That would explain it. Denebian parasites tend to attach themselves to animal fur and release their eggs into the wind. If they are inhaled by someone who is not vaccinated for them, they can hatch and grow in the lungs." He pushed a vial into the end of the hypospray. There was a hiss of compressed air as the tip of the hypo was pressed against the girl's neck. "There. By morning all the parasites should be dead and she will feel normal again."

The man smiled, cracking the wall of worry that had covered his face. "Thank you. Thank you very much. I don't know what else to say."

"Well, we could use some rooms," said Lucas.

"Consider it done."

"I don't quite know how we can pay you--"

"You already have." He held out his hand in greeting. "I'm Zoltaan."

Lucas shook his hand. "Lucas West." He had the rest of his people brought in and everyone was introduced. "We are probably being pursued by the Jem'Hadar. We don't want to endanger you so we can only stay for a few days." Hopefully it wouldn't take that long before Avenger could rescue them. With every passing moment, however, it became less and less likely that the ship had not been destroyed by the Jem'Hadar.

Zoltaan nodded. "For as long as you can stay, you are welcome here."

From their perch high in the old tower across the street from their office hiding place, Darian and Evan Dru looked down on the Jem'Hadar soldiers as they fanned out methodically across the overgrown plaza below. After several cat-and-mouse sessions across the abandoned city that afternoon, the alien soldiers were finally closing in.

Evan ducked below the sill and whispered, "Do you think they know where we're hiding?"

Darian shook his head. "No, but by process of elimination they'll find us eventually." The fact that they had gotten so close made him nervous. No matter what his team did to conceal themselves, the Jem'Hadar always managed to stay only a step behind. He had a theory on that, namely that Rutledge was alerting the Jem'Hadar, or signaling to them somehow--perhaps without even knowing it. Though if he did know, it would certainly account for his strange behavior. The only question was why would he do such a thing.

"Commander," Evan tugged Blake's uniform sleeve urgently.

Darian glanced into the courtyard in time to see the Jem'Hadar shimmering into nothingness. They had re-engaged their personal cloaking shields, once again gaining the upper hand. "We'd better head back down to tell the others."

"We're going to have to change hiding places again, aren't we, sir?" Evan whispered.

Darian was hesitant. "Maybe not. I have an idea."

"You want us to do what?" Amanda Murphy asked incredulously. "That building is full of radiant morthonids... and you want us to go INSIDE?"

"Exactly," Darian smiled. She still didn't understand.

Audra was shaking her head vigorously. "Um, been there. Done that. No thanks."

Darian shot her a look and she quieted down. "Our biggest weakness is that we can't tell when the Jem'Hadar are coming. Those damned personal cloaks allow them to sneak virtually into our midst before they strike." The doctor was nodding. Audra said nothing. "So what we need is some type of advanced warning tool."

Now the light clicked on. "And you're hoping those creatures will be able to sense the EM output from the cloaking devices?"

He nodded. "Not only that, but those techno-rats might just be mean enough to buy us enough time to escape while the Jem'Hadar are fighting them off."

"Yes, but it would be a considerable risk for us to get close enough to those things for what you have planned."

"Would it?" he asked. "We've seen how they react to humanoids who aren't carrying any EM gear. They didn't harm us."

Audra was gurgling in frustration. "Yeah, because we were fleeing for our lives. Next time they might not be so charitable."

"Perhaps. And perhaps they are only interested in our equipment. They might leave us alone," he asserted again.

"And they might not," Murphy countered. "By the time we get close enough to find out, even a handful of those things could tear us apart."

"And there are thousands of them living in that building, maybe hundreds of thousands," Added Audra.

Darian's mind was made up. "I think this is our best option. Unless anyone else has a better idea, this is what we're going with." He scanned their faces. Audra looked at him like he was crazy, though she said nothing further. The rest merely shook their heads. The decision was unanimous, except for Rutledge--who had been deliberately left out of the strategy session--and the Vulcan Varek, who was keeping Rutledge occupied.

As she set foot inside the giant rotunda of the abandoned capitol building, cold shivers ran up Dr. Murphy's spine. Considering what these vile creatures had done to her shipmates, she couldn't even believe she was here.

The group made their way deeper inside and Audra could feel millions of tiny eyes watching her. She tried to stare back at them contemptuously, but saw nothing. They had gone back into hiding. It took every ounce of strength she had not to turn and run for the door.

The officers made their way deeper inside the building, climbing up the large central stairway in order to reach the third floor which overlooked the building's enormous atrium. In the shadowy recesses of the chamber's nook and crannies was the realm of the techno-rats. Audra imagined ten ferocious rodents for every shadow she saw and became instantly terrified. If the creatures decided the group of Starfleet officers looked like a meal, they'd be eaten alive in a matter of seconds. No one made mention of the lurking creatures or spoke of the planned ambush.

Finally they had reached the upper level and the group took cover behind the balustrade. They huddled down and remained quiet, with Darian occasionally whispering to the others for added effect. After more than an hour, Rutledge approached. "What are we doing in here, Blake?"

"When Evan and I were on patrol this morning we ran into an away team from the Avenger. We made arrangements to rendezvous here. They are meeting us at these coordinates for evacuation via shuttlecraft," Darian lied. "They should be here within ten minutes."

"That's great news," Rutledge insisted.

Within another minute or two Rutledge had worked his way to the periphery of the group. "Do you think he took the bait?" Dr. Murphy whispered keeping a suspicious eye on the Betazoid.

"We'll see."

On the floor of the large rotunda a sudden scurrying could be heard, as if thousands of tiny feet were pattering across the polished marble surface. With great alarm Darian and Murphy peered over the rail to the chamber below. They saw nothing, but within an instant the floor was literally alive with rodents. Brown fur was everywhere. Gnashed teeth and hissed warnings alerted everyone to the presence of the vile creatures. Still, there was no sign of the Jem'Hadar. Darian hoped the creatures hadn't changed their minds and decided to attack.

Then it happened. The river of animals seemed to be flowing with a purpose. It headed for the center of the chamber and started up the central staircase. Darian was ready to give the order to run, but knew it would be futile. Then fireworks began, literally. Along the steps the creatures began attacking an area seemingly empty, but within moments six Jem'Hadar soldiers were visible. Their cloaking shields were still engaged but the sheer mass of creatures showed lumps where the soldiers should have been. Electroplasma popped and hissed and the creatures continued to swarm, now descending from every opening in the chamber. The Jem'Hadar were being consumed by the tiny, ferocious creatures.

In a futile attempt several of the soldiers decloaked and began firing ceaselessly at the menacing animals. It did little good. There were too many. As liberating as it was to know the Jem'Hadar would finally stop chasing them, it was a horrible sight to see such a tragic end to any life, Dr. Murphy thought. She turned away at the last, sickened by the bloody mayhem. The Jem'Hadar soldiers were dead.

Now came the crucial moment. Darian watched closely. Would the rodents return quietly to their hiding places, or would they have the taste of blood and search for more victims? "Everyone stay completely still," he urged. The worry was unfounded, though. Eventually the techno-rats finished with the Jem'Hadar soldiers merely skittered away, back into their secluded hiding places.

Once again the team was safe, but for how long? With Rutledge free, there was no telling what could happen next. Darian decided to make his move.

Nor muttered aloud as she guided herself through the turbolift shaft which led through the nacelle strut out to the starboard field control room. The tube was filled with pitch black ocean water, as would the control room be. The work lamps of her pressure helmet cast eerie shadows on the sediment floating in front of her. The suit was sufficiently equipped for use underwater, but she couldn't shake an incredible sensation of claustrophobia. She'd done EVA dozens of times before, but somehow this was infinitely more frightening.

"Anderson to Nor," the comm chirped inside her helmet. "What's your status?"

"I'm almost there."

"Me too," Schyler told her. "I'll notify the bridge to begin."

Everything was in readiness when the call came in. Brower sat in the bridge command chair, a makeshift seatbelt strapping him in place so he wouldn't float away during the period of weightlessness ahead. Others around the ship were similarly prepared. The captain was not overly enthusiastic about the dangerous maneuver, especially when a great deal of that danger involved Schyler. As the options had been presented to him, however, there was little other choice.

Schyler pried open the doors to the field flow control room and settled about her work inside the cramped chamber. The warm glow from the recently re-activated control panels was dampened by the muddy waters, and she tried not to think of how cold her extremities were while she tapped in most of the command controls from memory. Things were going as planned. Hundreds of meters away on the opposite side of the ship, she hoped Hyper was faring as well.

"I'm finished," Nor said into the open comm channel. "Ready to begin warp envelope calibration."

"Acknowledged." Schyler finished inputting the last sequence of commands into her terminal as well. "Captain, we are ready. Awaiting Lieutenant Rataan's signal."

Brower sighed deeply. "All hands, stand by to clear the ocean floor." His attention shifted to Rataan. "Have them to begin, on my mark. In three... two... one... mark."

Lights began to flash vigorously on Schyler's console. Instantly the water, indeed all of the space in and between the very electrons around her began to pulsate with energy as the warp nacelles generated a low-intensity warp envelope. As the bubble formed, a slow sensation of weightlessness overtook the ship. It was hard for her to notice at first, as her underwater buoyancy had already given the impression of limited weightlessness.

"It's working," Rataan apprised through the comm in her helmet.

Brower watched the tactical readout on the captain's terminal. The ship had become buoyant and was rising, slowly at first. The ship shuddered as it dislodged from the muddy bottom.

"We are gaining velocity," Rataan observed from his readout at Tactical.

The constant updates were like so much white noise in the background, as Schyler's true concentration was focused on maintaining the integrity of the warp field envelope around Avenger. It took constant adjustment to keep the field intact. If her modifications were so much more than four or five millicochranes in deviation from Hyper's, the field would collapse and the ship would sink back to the bottom of the ocean.

A sudden power conduit rupture spilled electrified plasma into the water around her. So far she was in no immediate danger. Of bigger hazard were the vibrations that had begun to rock the ship. The rumbling threatened to sever the make-shift lash strap she had used to attach herself to the nearby bulkhead. She had nearly been thrown from her console twice, and if that were to happen she wouldn't be able to enter manual adjustments.

"We're about half way there," Kale's distant voice notified after several stressful minutes.

"Acknowledged," Schyler strained moments later. Everything seemed in slow motion. Of course it was only her perception, now under the opposing influence of the radiant energy coursing through the control room and support strut around her. Despite her suit's dynamic shielding, energy from the warp bubble had begun to impair her synaptic functions. "Field strength is... holding."

Brower exchanged concerned glances with Rataan. Something was wrong. He knew Schyler well enough to pick up on her unspoken subtext, even over the static-ridden comm from half a ship away. "Lieutenant, report. What's going on down there?"

"Radiation," she responded weakly. "..stronger than we expected."

Brower would have stood, poised to order an emergency beam-out, had the seatbelt not kept him snugly in place. "Transporter room--"

"Captain," Jarok warned, her head lashing from side to side. If the warp field were to collapse now, the impulse engines wouldn't be capable of lifting the ship the remaining distance to the surface.

"How much longer?" he demanded.

"Three minutes, at least," Rataan's voice dashed most of Schyler's remaining hope. She would hold on that long--if she could. But the room was already spinning and the calculations were becoming a jumble of numbers inside her head. She would continue. She HAD to continue.

In the opposite pylon Hyper faced the same conditions. Radiation had weakened her concentration and slowed her reactions. Like Schyler, she would stay till the last, but worried what the transporter would finally manage to pull back might not be worth saving.

Brower's firm grip on the arm of his seat tightened while he watched the distance count down on the main viewscreen's tactical readout. Every number led the ship closer to escape and Schyler closer to death.

"One minute, forty seconds," Rataan counted aloud. Hyper knew she couldn't continue. Every second seemed like days. Her heavy mind glanced at the console, noticing that the corresponding calculations had stopped. Schyler was no longer making entries from her station. It was over. She reached for the transport initiator on her sleeve, but her arm was heavier than lead. Even her voice was too far removed from her concentration. She couldn't even call for help.

"The warp field is collapsing!" Rataan shouted.

Brower's attention shifted immediately to the helm. "Engage the impulse drive. Bring control thrusters on line and route all remaining power to propulsion."

"Transporters too?"

"Warp drive, transporters, emergency life support--everything," Brower insisted. He had to see this through. If Schyler--any of them--were going to make such a sacrifice, it would not be in vain.

Distant power transfer conduits pulsed and whined to life. The ship continued its violent lurching, now straining harder under renewed stresses from the planet's gravity and crushing weight of the ocean.

"We're ascending!" the helmsman yelled.

"But power load to the impulse systems is at one-hundred forty percent," Jarok warned, bracing against her console.

"Steady," Brower encouraged. "Distance to the surface?" he queried Rataan.

It was difficult to be precise, especially under these tumultuous conditions. "A little more than a kilometer."

The piercing whine grew louder. "Strain on the impulse drive is nearing critical," Jarok cautioned once more.

A moment later the helm console overloaded and sparks erupted from the damaged station. The helmsman was thrown clear of his seat to land violently against the railing behind him.

Brower unleashed his harness to help the downed man. As he approached, a bright light filled the bridge. On the viewscreen water cascaded off the ship and brilliant light signaled Avenger's arrival into the Yadrani atmosphere.

Zoltaan had been a low-ranking officer in the Yadrani militia and he had even fought in the Cardassian War. He showed Lucas the scars that ran up his left arm. Lucas had been unaware that any independent border worlds had put up resistance.

"Not only did we resist, we did quite a bit of damage to their space fleet," said Zoltaan.

"Fascinating," said Lucas. He then belched quietly into his fist. "Excuse me." The two were seated in the common room, eating a lunch of bread, meat, and cheese Zoltaan had prepared for them. Lucas had told him it was not necessary but he had insisted and Lucas had acquiesced.

Most of the others had taken their food back to their rooms. Lanei sat on the front stoop, playing ball with Eloisa. Crewman Parlochov had gone down the street to the market to get some milk for dinner. The streets were almost empty. The presence of the Jem'Hadar made everyone fearful and most people where staying at home, where they thought it safe.

"How about you?" Zoltaan asked Lucas. "Seen much action?"

"Not really. I was a starship engineer before I was booted up to command. I was usually too busy trying to keep the ship from falling apart at the seams--"

The front door burst open causing both Lucas and Zoltaan to turn their heads quickly. Crewman Parlochov stood in the foyer, panting heavily. "Sir. I-I just saw… the Jem'Hadar… they're searching every lodge… we visited yesterday. They'll be here… in a few minutes."

Lucas jumped to his feet. "We need to get out of here."

"No time," Lanei huffed as she rushed inside with Eloisa. "They're just down the street now."

"Damn. Zoltaan, we need a place to hide from their scanners. Do you have any reinforced rooms?"

The innkeeper nodded. "Down in the basement, there's a crawl space lined with teflacrete. It would be a tight fit for you but it could work."

"Good. Lanei, get the others. I'll be with Zoltaan downstairs."

Zoltaan led him down a narrow flight of stairs to the lodge's musty basement. A single hanging lamp dimly lighted the room. Crates of preserved food, probably for guests, were stacked everywhere. Zoltaan opened a small hatch set into the rough gray wall. "I use it to get access to the floor pipes when they leak. I think it will conceal you."

Lucas pulled out his tricorder and scanned it. "The metallic properties of the teflacrete are scattering my tricorder signal. I don't think the Dominion's remote sensing capabilities are any more advanced than ours." Lanei came thumping down the stairs with the rest of the crew. "Quickly." Lucas gestured at the crawl space. "Everyone inside."

With trained efficiency each man and woman climbed into the cramped crawl space. "Hope you remembered to take your pheromone suppressant before we left the ship, Lanei," said Chris jokingly.

"Of course I remembered," Lanei replied. "Do you think I would want a bunch of sexually-primitive alien males hanging around me the entire away mission?"

"Who are you calling sexually-primitive?"

"Inside people," Lucas growled. He could not believe Lanei and Chris could joke around at a time like this. As he climbed in, Zoltaan handed him the cover. "Don't be a hero," he told Zoltaan sternly. "Don't risk yourself for us."

"Don't worry. I can handle myself. Now get in there," the Yadrani innkeeper told him.

Lucas climbed in and sealed the hatch. It was pitch black, cramped, and stuffy in the crawl space but it would have to do. "Everyone stay quiet," he ordered unnecessarily.

There was long, tense wait until they heard boots thumping on the floorboards above.

"C-can I help you?" came Zoltaan's voice, muffled by the teflacrete.

"We are looking for a group of off-worlders," came the cool, level tone of what could only be a Vorta.

"Sir, you're the only off-worlders I've seen recently," said Zoltaan.

"They are Starfleet personnel," said the Vorta. "They are a tricky lot. They may have been in disguise."

The thumping of heavy booted feet and the scraping of roughly moved furniture could be heard. So could the beeping of hand-held sensors.

"Let me think," said Zoltaan. "A group did come by last night but I didn't want to rent rooms to them. They just moved on. It's just my daughter and myself here."

There was a long pause.

"That is an awfully large amount of food on the table for just the two of you," said the Vorta.

Lucas swore under his breath. He heard the others do the same.

"I've always been a big eater," came Zoltaan's reply. "And Eloisa here is entering a growth spurt. She just packs it away and is hungry for more hours later."

"Indeed," said the Vorta. A pause. "Anything?"

Another voice, this one very deep and gravelly. A Jem'Hadar soldier, no doubt. "I'm picking up human DNA. They have been in this room, but I cannot tell if they were here recently or as long ago as yesterday."

Another pause.

"If you see this group again, please do not hesitate to contact me at the Senate building," said the Vorta. "Let's move to the next inn." A shuffling of footsteps and they were gone.

Soon enough, Zoltaan was opening the hatch. A blast of cool air hit Lucas' face. He did not realize how quickly their body heat had risen the temperature in the small space. "We need to get out of here," he said. "When the Dominion troops do not detect human DNA at the next inn, they are going to come back here."

"There is a back door that leads to an alley," said Zoltaan. "You can use that."

Lucas shook his hand. "Thank you for everything. The Federation will do its best to get the Dominion off your world," he said solemnly. "I promise." He looked at his people. "Let's go."

The alley access was narrow and the Starfleet crew had to shimmy through it sideways. The structure behind the K'Dori Street Inn had been built too close. They emerged in a wider alley, filled with old boxes and metal cans.

"Move it," Lucas ordered as they bolted down the alley towards the next street, called Lozra Place.

"Halt!" shouted a deep voice.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder. Silhouetted against the brightness of K'Dori Street were five Jem'Hadar. "Run!" he shouted.

Just as they reached the Lozra Place exit, eight more Jem'Hadar stepped into the alley, weapons raised menacingly. They were trapped.

"You're kidding, right?" Bareeth asked incredulously.

Darian glanced to both sides, making sure no one could hear the crewman's boisterous tone. "No, I am not kidding. Something is wrong with Rutledge."

The young crewman stretched on his make-shift cot, wanting to massage his ankle, but knowing better. "Suppose there is something wrong with him. Maybe being held a prisoner by the Dominion affected his mind. He may need our help."

"For God's sake, Delane. He betrayed us!"

The Bajoran stared at his superior officer intently. "What would you have me do?"

Patiently Darian explained his plan for dealing with the suspected traitor in their midst. It was the fourth time he had repeated this information, approaching each separately.

"Are you asking me to turn against a man I served with for three years just because you think he's acting strange?" Bareeth's voice was edgy. No doubt the pain from his leg was agitating him.

"No," Darian answered flatly. "I'm ordering you."

There was a long pause. In the Bajoran Resistance there had been many traitors and Cardassian collaborators. It was common. But not in Starfleet. He refused to believe it. He glanced at the faces of the others. How many more of them had Commander Blake trusted with this news? Further, how many more of them did he suspect of being a Dominion traitor? These were his friends, people he had served with tirelessly.

"Look," Darian was less terse, "Rutledge has been missing for months. Presumably he's been behind enemy lines in a prison camp, or worse. God knows what they've done to him. But I am telling you, he's a threat to us that must be neutralized." Angst welled up behind the crewman's eyes. "If I'm right about this, Rutledge just might be our ticket off this lovely world and back to the ship."

"And if you're wrong?"

"He's back," Dru called in a hushed whisper from the front door.

It was now or never.

"I can't find much else to burn for kindling," Rutledge explained as he entered the midst of the group's impromptu uprising. "but I think we can use--"

He stopped short upon seeing Darian with a Jem'Hadar rifle leveled straight at him, a confused expression on his harsh Betazoid features. "That's far enough," Darian told the man. Others appeared equally as insistent. Around the camp, those Darian trusted had scraped up various objects which could be used as weapons and were standing with them at the ready.

"What's this all about?" Rutledge asked innocently. He seemed genuinely not to know.

Carefully balancing himself on his good leg, Bareeth stood. "I told you, Commander, there's nothing wrong with him," he insisted to Blake.

Darian ignored the crewman. "Put the supplies down, Rutledge. Carefully." He motioned with the rifle. "And sit over there."

For a long moment Rutledge did nothing. Everyone's eyes were on the tense situation near the middle of camp. Bareeth seemed aghast that this was continuing. The others scrutinized the Betazoid carefully.

"Where did you get that rifle," Rutledge asked. "If it came from the capitol building, you know it has to be worthless. Those horrible creatures wouldn't have stopped their attack otherwise."

Darian looked at the weapon. It was a good point.

While he was distracted, Rutledge dropped his small load of firewood and appeared to reach for something. Before he could draw, a shot from the rifle struck him. Evan cracked Rutledge over the head with a piece of pipe, but neither seemed to slow him down. When it became clear Rutledge was still making a move against Darian, and the others began pelting him with loose debris and other objects. Still no effect. Now, completely shocking everyone, Rutledge withdrew his arm and it suddenly became a gelatinous mass, forming into some kind of tentacle that whipped with incredible speed and struck Darian, knocking him back several feet and to the ground. Rutledge was a changeling!

With lightening speed the alien moved two steps sideways and formed a long, lance-like spear which he thrust into Varek's chest. She coughed and sputtered as the stake withdrew and she collapsed to the ground. Dr. Murphy ran to her. Vulcan's had two hearts, but the changeling had managed to pierce both of them. Within seconds Varek was dead.

Bareeth pulled himself up and used his upper body strength to push an unattached structural beam from its foundation. Cracking plaster showered the injured crewman and the heavy beam fell on the shape shifting Founder. The beam's crushing weight obviously wounded the creature. It fell to the ground in obvious agony, but reformed and oozed from under the heavy weight.

Cautiously Darian approached to survey the situation, his weapon still aimed. Now more or less back in the form of Commander Rutledge, the changeling lay wounded on the broken tile floor. Blake knew something had been wrong, but he had no idea Rutledge was a changeling. "Where's the REAL Rutledge?" he demanded.

The creature smiled ominously. "You don't get it, do you?"

A blue burst of light again leapt from Darian's rifle, now at a higher setting. It struck the wounded creature, eliciting a shriek of pain. "No, but what I will get is an itchy trigger finger if you don't tell me what I want to hear. You've killed lots of innocent people, and I will have absolutely no trouble killing you."

The creature leered back, appearing to understand its predicament.

"The Jem'Hadar have been able to track us this whole time... how?" Darian's demand went unanswered. He again raised the weapon, ready to fire. "How did your people track us," he insisted through clenched teeth.

With considerable effort, the changeling's upper chest swirled and coalesced into more gelatinous matter. His clothes around that area also disappeared, producing an opening, which the creature reached into, grabbing something. It was the missing tricorder. "I've been in contact with my soldiers all this time," he stated. "In fact, they are witnessing this as we speak."

Suddenly Bareeth seemed panicked. He leapt wildly at the changeling and grabbed the tricorder from his hand, wincing sharply when he landed on his bad ankle. The harm had already been done, and Darian didn't understand what the crewman was doing. The changeling appeared confused as well. Bareeth continued to work the device, tiny lights and sensory equipment flashing and beeping wildly.

In another instant a Dominion transporter beam wrapped around the Founder and he began to disappear, but the beam didn't seem right. It flickered and danced in and out of existence, then winked off. "Scattering field," Bareeth announced proudly, holding the tricorder in the air for Blake to see. "I've erected a field about twenty meters around us."

Darian looked at the hobbling crewman with a wild-eyed grin. "Nice work, Delane. Nice indeed." Quickly attentions returned to the Founder. "Now, tell your people to get us out of this hell hole."

The changeling-Rutledge didn't move.

Darian aimed the rifle and hollered to the Jem'Hadar eavesdroppers, "I swear, beam us aboard your ship or I'll blast this god of yours into the next reality," he said to the unseen troopers. For a second nothing happened. He gave a quick nod to Bareeth, who shut down the tricorder.

Bareeth stepped close to Rutledge aiming the rifle at him point-blank, insuring no trickery. The Jem'Hadar had obviously been listening, because within another moment transporter beams enveloped the entire group, beaming them off the surface of Yadrani Prime.

"We made it!" Rataan shouted. "We've cleared the ocean!"

The captain nodded to the med tech who had taken his place tending to the injured helmsman. "Jarok, what's our status?"

She scanned her console. "The ship is intact. But we have only partial impulse power."

Brower nodded and turned insistently. "And what of our two engineers?"

"They are in sickbay," he responded a moment later. "It seems the transporter room must not have gotten the order to disengage its lock until after they had been safely evacuated." His eyes darted over a medical status update from the EMH. "Both are in critical condition."

In a small place in the back of Brower's mind he wanted to rush down to Sickbay to make certain Schyler and her assistant would be all right. There was nothing he would be able to do for them, but being there would have made him feel better. His place was on the bridge, however. "Continue our ascent," he told the replacement helmsman.

Rataan's console chirped an alarm. "I'm detecting at least one Jem'Hadar attacker in orbit," he informed urgently. "It has altered course to intercept."

"Best speed out of the atmosphere." Desperately he hoped any other Jem'Hadar ships were far enough away to allow for Avenger's escape.

"We've cleared the gravity well of the planet, sir," the helmsman responded several tense minutes later. "We are free to navigate."

"Maximum impulse power," Brower nodded. "Stand by to go to warp."

"Captain," Rataan's tone was distressed, "the Jem'Hadar ship is approaching."

Brower's eyes narrowed as he spied the lone ship on the main viewscreen. Exactly what they had feared most, the worst-case scenario, seemed to be unfolding around them. With the ship's current damage, there was no way Avenger could engage in a fight, not even a short one. "Stand by for warp speed," the captain confirmed bitterly. His next order would likely condemn both missing away teams to certain death. "Eng--"

"The ship is hailing!" Jarok interrupted. "They're asking for you by name, Captain."

Brower's gaze flickered to his security officer then to the viewscreen and back. There were still a few seconds before the ship came into weapons range. Perhaps it was trick. The Jem'Hadar were stalling for time. But he decided to take that chance. "On screen."

The holographic display flickered and the image of the Dominion attacker was replaced by an internal image, the bridge of the same warship. Standing larger than life on the viewscreen was Lt. Commander Blake.

The second away team had apparently been captured, and for Brower, the nightmare continued to worsen. "Look, I cannot bargain for the Yadrani," he insisted, "but I am warning you, if you harm those officers--"

"Captain, it's all right," Blake assuaged, his hands gesturing for calm. "WE are in control of this ship," he remarked, motioning to the other members of his team who also stood in the command center. "And yes ,sir," he anticipated, "it's a LONG story."

His own image winked up at him, a reflection in the polished surface of the ward room table, quietly mimicking every move he made as he listened to Blake's team explain what had happened on the surface. Captain Brower's glance shifted to the changeling-Rutledge who sat at the opposite end of the table and his likeness followed him. "Why?" He had begun to suspect something was definitely afoot, but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined the duplicitous circumstances surrounding this entire mission. It had all been a carefully planned ruse. The Dominion was trying to replace Rutledge with a changeling.

The changeling smiled mysteriously, wickedly, having abandoned any pretext of Rutledge's actual personality. "Even if I meticulously laid it out, I doubt you could comprehend. The subtleties of such a conspiracy is lost on you inferior solids," he said with an arrogance clearly designed to incite a response. His disdain for the humans flatly ignored the four security guards who flanked him with compression phaser rifles.

In the twenty minutes since Blake's team had been beamed back from the Jem'Hadar ship the captain had heard many explanations of what took place on the surface, but he had yet to learn why this elaborate scheme had been contrived. Till now he had resisted provocation, but the limits of his patience were approaching. "I suppose we could sit here playing games with semantics for hours. Perhaps I could even prove to you, through thoughtful argumentation, that I am worthy of your detailed plot. And if I were a more practiced diplomat and captain, intelligent resolution of our conflict might be the avenue I'd opt for. But thanks to your people, I'm not an experienced captain. I have missing personnel on the surface below, and I'm prone to act on my emotions. Right now my emotions are running high, so you're going to tell me what I want to know... right now."

Rataan could hear the captain's teeth grinding as he spoke through a clenched jaw, but even he was surprised when Brower pulled a hand phaser from under the table and aimed it at the Founder. Even his security men jumped at this radical behavior.

For his part, the changeling showed initial surprise, but quickly resumed his arrogant stance. "Come now, Captain, your Commander Brower brandished a similar weapon at me for the past hour," he gestured contemptuously at the engineer, "if you're going to use the thing... use it."

Without a word Brower pressed his index finger to the trigger plate. A high pitched whine accompanied the bright orange beam which leapt from the phased energy weapon and stuck the changeling in the shoulder. The alien shrieked in pain as his shoulder and upper torso radiated and rippled while waves of energy poured from the weapon and tore into its body. Finally Brower cut off the beam. "You'll recognize the setting?" he asked coyly. "Not precise enough to incapacitate you; not high enough to kill you. But just right for causing extreme discomfort." He pressed the plate again and more energy struck the alien. The ward room was filled with eerie shrieks of anguish.

Rataan was on his feet now, at the captain's side, but Brower's reassuring glance indicated he knew what he was doing. Again the beam had ceased and the creature was resting from its fit of torment. Hearts raced and everyone in the room was focused intently on what the captain would do next.

"Why was Commander Rutledge such an appealing target to be replaced? Why him and not any of a dozen other Starfleet officers?" Brower asked calmly. "You've done it before. What makes this one officer so special that it would be necessary to construct all of this in order for you to take his place?"

There was a long hesitation. The changeling did not appear persuaded to cooperate. Again Brower fired, and again shrieks filled the room. The captain paused and looked to his chief engineer. "Blake, get a half dozen more sarium krellide power cells. This may take awhile."

Before the engineer had time to move the changeling had shifted in its seat, leaning forward and placing its elbows on the cherry surface of the table. "I suppose it will do no further harm to tell you," the changeling reasoned aloud. "It may even expedite the very division in your leadership we have been striving for." Having convinced himself, he proceeded with an explanation. "There is a faction of your own Starfleet which should frighten you far more than any incursion to your quadrant by the Dominion," he offered contemptuously. "The organization even has its own surreptitious designation... Section Thirty One."

Brower scoffed for appearances, though he had a good idea what the alien shapeshifter was referring to. Throughout his time aboard Avenger there had been many instances when circumstances pointed to some type of misdeeds within the very core of Starfleet Command. Often, it seemed to be more than a few rogue officers acting on their own. Captain Sutherland had been keenly aware of what was happening--which perhaps explained Rutledge's continued presence on board. But for there to be such a far-reaching, powerful, completely clandestine organization within Starfleet was impossible. "You're lying."

"You don't believe the Federation came to control such a vast power base merely through the practice of enlightened compassion, do you?" he chided.

Brower pointed the weapon, but this time did not fire. He still reeled from what he was hearing. Of course, there was the very real possibility the alien was lying, but all of the pieces fit somehow. Within the fabric of Starfleet Command, or perhaps superfluous of it, a secret organization existed which dictated the destiny of Starfleet, perhaps the entire Federation. If it was true, it would make an ideal target for the Dominion. "And what was to be Rutledge's part in all of this?"

"We were going to exploit the commander's ex-membership within that group. Officers never really leave Section Thirty One. I was to facilitate his reintegration, rising to a high position, thus expediting the Dominion's take over of the Federation." He smiled with depravity. "It only takes one. And once we control Starfleet, we control the Federation."

Brower locked stares with the alien. He had learned all he needed to for now. Starfleet could conduct a thorough interrogate for more valuable information later. Still, the captain considered sacrificing that knowledge for the satisfaction of killing this creature who had murdered so many of his shipmates. The phaser still aimed, he considered firing, ending the being's life.

"You won't do it," the changeling-Rutledge stated. "I am your ticket to escaping all of this alive."

Suddenly Brower considered that the Founder was right. If, in his anger, he had indeed killed the changeling, they would all be dead. Still, he had the upper hand. Now he needed to use it.

Over thirty Jem'Hadar, with a smug-looking Vorta, stood in the center of K'Dori Street. They had blocked the flow of traffic and a large crowd of over one hundred or so Yadrani had gathered in curious fear of the Dominion invaders.

Weapons and equipment seized, the Starfleet personnel were marched into the center of the ring of Jem'Hadar. Hands atop his head, like the others in his group, Lucas gazed over the Yadrani faces. Some seemed sad but most appeared indifferent. It did not appear as if they would be helping anytime soon.

"Ah, so these are the Starfleet people we have been tracking," the Vorta said, amused. "Who is the leader of this little band?"

Lucas slowly stepped forward. "I am Commander Lucas West, first officer of the Avenger."

"The Avenger. Was that the name of the Federation ship in orbit? Our ships have probably destroyed it by now."

"I doubt it."

The Vorta's amused face evolved into a full-fledged smile, though it was a smile a cat would give a mouse before he ate him. "Such tenacity. Don't you realize, Commander West, that it is all over for you?" He had raised his voice, addressing both the crowd and Lucas. The Vorta wanted to show the Yadrani that the Federation could not help them and that siding with the Dominion was the only choice. "The Dominion will soon be welcoming these dear Yadrani into our intergalactic family."

"Over my dead body," Lucas said.

"That IS the idea," the Vorta whispered privately. He then raised his voice. "We will be taking these people to the Senate building, which your… frightened Senate so kindly left us, where they will be placed in the Dominion's protective care. You need not worry about these ruffians again."

It was all a show. Let the conquered know what happened to those who dared to disturb the status quo. Lucas ground his teeth at his failure to deliver his people from harm.

"No!" shouted a voice from the crowd. There was a murmur that rippled through the gathered Yadrani. The Vorta and the Jem'Hadar were looking around for the one who had protested. "These people are not criminals! They risked their lives to come here and help save us from the Dominion!"

It was Zoltaan.

The Vorta pointed at him. "Come now, sir. They came here to gather your leaders and ferry them off to safety, from some sort of perceived threat. But what about the common citizens? Have they tried to help you? No."

"I know better than that!" Zoltaan shouted. All eyes were on him. Lucas could feel the tension building. The situation could break at any moment. He needed to be ready for it. He gave his people a look they all understood. Be ready. "I know that the Dominion cannot consider a world truly conquered unless they have turned the world's government to their side! The Federation could not evacuate all of us from your approaching Jem'Hadar invaders, so they did the next best thing!"

"Please," said the Vorta. "This is nonsense. We mean you no harm. Your Senate has abandoned you. The Dominion can help your people."

"Help us? That's what the Cardassians said right before they tried to invade! And with the help of the Federation we beat them back." Zoltaan gestured to another man in the crowd. A shopkeeper by the looks of him. "Michelozzo. We served together during the war. Did we give up then?"

The man shook his head furiously. "No, we didn't!".

Jem'Hadar began pushing through the crowd, closing in to silence Zoltaan. The crowd, not appreciative of being shoved, resisted. A clamor of voices began to build. Shouts. Chanting. They were near the breaking point. The Vorta sensed what was about to happen and his pale features betrayed his worry.

"Are we going to just roll over and let these Dominion invaders take away our freedom like the Cardassians tired to do?"

"NO!" the crowd screamed simultaneously. A Jem'Hadar fired his weapon skyward. Someone cried out. The Dominion intruders made their final mistake. The crowd surged forward.

"Now!" shouted Lucas.

Each crew member leaped onto a Jem'Hadar as the crowd rushed in like a wave. Weapons fired and people screamed. Someone grabbed the Vorta and he was pulled down under a fury of fists, feet, and sticks. Another slashed a Jem'Hadar's throat with a kitchen knife. Blood and ketracel white from the severed implant sprayed out. The fighting grew into a chaotic maelstrom of unsuppressed fury. Once someone had said no, it grew easier for everyone else. The Jem'Hadar were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers and the weight of the crowd pressed in further.

Lucas snatched a rifle away and fired on Jem'Hadar left and right. Lanei was shoved into him. He grabbed her to keep her from falling to the ground and being trampled. She had a large cut over her left eye.

"This is… fun," she managed to say.

The both ducked as bottles and rocks flew over their heads.

Suddenly, Lucas was greeted to the warm and welcome and embrace of a Starfleet transporter beam. The chaos around him coalesced into a much friendlier scene, the Avenger bridge. The first officer glanced around, noticing he was the only one to have been transported to the bridge--or what was left of it. Apparently the ship had been in no danger of boredom either.

"The remainder of your team is safely aboard, Commander," Brower assured.

Lucas noticed the rather calm image of Weyoun on the viewscreen. Then his eyes swept across a much more incongruous sight; Schoen Rutledge was being held at gun point by several security officers. They had definitely arrived in the middle of something.

"Glad you're back, Commander." Brower's wide steps bridged the middle area of the command center in about five strides. The bridge was quiet. His hands were clasped thoughtfully and drawn to his chin as he paced. Negotiations had hit a snag. "Avenger IS leaving this system, and we're taking Rutledge here with us," he referred to the changeling.

The pale alien on the viewscreen comm channel groused with indignance. "That was not what we bargained for. I agreed to allow you to collect your crew from the surface and depart this system in exchange for the Founder's safe return to us."

"I'm altering our arrangement."

Weyoun huffed. "Is this how Starfleet officers negotiate in good faith?" the Vorta protested.

The situation had come full circle. The tables were turned, and Brower was enjoying every minute. "No, it isn't. The art of negotiating is something I learned entirely from you, Ambassador."

Weyoun grimaced imperceptibly.

"I assure you, I only have the well being of your Founder in mind," Brower assured confidently. "We'll be keeping him in protective custody. I would hate for anything to happen to one of your gods." A smile crept across his dry lips. There was nothing Weyoun could do but agree. The life of even one Founder was more important than the entire Jem'Hadar and Vorta populations combined. "The Avenger will be leaving now, and you will make no attempt to stop us." Silence hung momentarily on the open comm channel.

"What about the Yadrani senators?" Weyoun inquired in an innocent tone.

Brower looked at the viewscreen incredulously. "They'll be going with us also."

True to the arrangement, Weyoun and his men made no attempt to pursue the ship, and Avenger was safely clear of the Yadran System and deep within Federation territory before the call came in from a distressed security chief.

"Escaped?" Brower demanded angrily. "How?"

Kale Rataan's voice did not waver on the open comm channel, but his anger was as evident as Brower's over the disappearance of the changeling. "We're not certain exactly. Apparently he was able to circumvent the brig security fields, incapacitate the guards, and slip into the ship."

"He's loose on the ship?" Brower demanded.

"No, sir. After his escape from the brig, the changeling made his way directly to the forward torpedo room where he overpowered more security guards and concealed himself inside a sensor probe casing. He then launched himself on a pre-programmed course back toward Cardassian space. Shall we pursue?"

"No," the captain responded. The Avenger could never catch a probe running at full speed, even without such a head start. "How are your security officers?"

"Dr. Murphy is treating them in Sickbay. Nothing major."

"Very well. Stand down from red alert and check the ship for possible sabotage. Once you're convinced we're out of the woods, resume our course back to Federation territory."

"Yes, sir," Rataan said obediently. The comm channel closed and Brower was once again alone in his living quarters with his thoughts and his friend, Chris Logan.

The doctor leaned forward on the comfy sofa and placed his cup of tea on the small table. The china clinked slightly on against the glass top. "That's not going to look good on your report to Starfleet," he quipped.

Brower shot him a look.

"Sorry," Logan's hands were raised in surrender. He knew the captain was leery enough about what to say in the mission summary without him fanning the flames. "I shouldn't have said that."

Brower's features softened. "No, it's all right. I'm just a little tense." He saw the doctor nod in agreement. "Overly so, I suppose."

"No," Logan assuaged, "your apprehension is justified." The situation the captain had just recounted to him could likely tear apart the very fabric of Starfleet, and with it, the Federation itself. Somehow, though, that all paled in comparison with his own preoccupied concern over Schyler's condition.

"Well, I thank you for making time to discuss it with me."

Logan nodded. "How could I deny the captain?"

He smiled, but somehow Brower hoped Chris was kidding, that he had come to see him out of friendship rather than a forced feeling of responsibility. "Still, thanks for the chat."

Chris stood and stretched his legs, dropping his cloth napkin on the table next to his cup. "I'm going down to Sickbay."

Brower nodded and smiled at his friend as he left, privately yearning to visit Schyler himself. But he had other matters to attend to.

The dim lights of the private medical room reflected off of the sterile walls onto the light blue, Starfleet medical blanket which covered Schyler Anderson. He paused over her bed, watching her sleep. Like so many months ago, she was badly injured, and he blamed himself. This time he felt the guilt over what he had done. Last time it was what he hadn't. By directly influencing her ability to join the away team, he had placed her in the situation aboard the ship which had led to her current medical status.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled weakly.

"Hi," he mouthed.

I'll be much safer on the ship, eh?" she asked with as much sarcasm as her weakened lungs would allow.

Chris drew himself up. "I promise not to interfere in with your Starfleet duties again," he pledged softly.

She touched his hand. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Chris Logan." She efforted a smile, but pain shot through her lungs. "You love to intrude into other people's business." If he truly didn't stop trying to influence her life, it would cause irreparable damage to their relationship. "You can't help yourself... but you have to stop."

He smiled at her, remaining silent for over an hour. He watched over her protectively until she drifted off to sleep once more. With a final kiss on the forehead he whispered, "I can't stop caring about you." Quietly he departed.

Lucas stared down into the tangled mess of struts and energy conduits while Darian Blake stood at his side. The chief engineer merely shook his head. Like most of the ship they had toured, the main deflector was practically ruined. From their vantage point on deck nine the pair could see several decks down into the tangle of burned-out components and debris. "This is going to take weeks to repair," West estimated finally.

"Months," Darian amended sadly.

Lucas nodded. "Thankfully it's not my problem anymore."

Darian's gaze flashed to the dark-skinned XO. "Just because you aren't the chief engineer anymore doesn't mean we couldn't use a little of your help."

A wide smile flickered across Lucas' face highlighting his bright white teeth in contrast as he grinned. "It's not that. I'd love to stay and help," he rolled his eyes with playful sarcasm, "but Rataan and I have been assigned to attend a tactical briefing on the Dominion."

Darian nodded, impervious to the approaching footsteps in the corridor behind them. "Great, that means I get to clean up all this mess by myself. Who ever heard of taking a starship into an ocean anyway?"

West straightened and cleared his throat, but Darian didn't get the hint.

"No, really. That's why it's called a STARship. Otherwise we'd be serving on a submarine."

"That can be arranged if you'd like, Mister Blake," the captain said as he stepped into the maintenance bay from the corridor.

"Uh, Captain... I... uh, didn't hear you come in, sir," the engineer fumbled, his face turning a thousand shades of deep red.

"Obviously." Brower smiled at West then his gaze returned to Blake. "It was an unorthodox maneuver, I'll grant you. But at least I managed to bring my ship back in one piece."

Darian winced at the not-so-subtle reference to the obliterated Pioneer. It could not be salvaged and with the war on it was hard to know when they might get a replacement.

"Now, if you will excuse Commander West and I, we have a few things to discuss. And I'm sure you can find enough to keep you busy."

"Yes, sir," Blake answered stiffly as the two officers departed into the deserted corridor. Just before disappearing around the corner, West turned to flash a big smile.

The captain and first officer walked quite a ways before either spoke. "Which bothers you most," Lucas asked finally, "the near catastrophe of Dominion infiltration into the mysterious Section Thirty One, or the prospect of filing a report with Starfleet Command about it?"

The question was a good one, and one Brower wasn't certain he could answer accurately. "Possible Founder penetration into the highest structures of our government is frightening enough, but as our doppleganger friend pointed out, it's even more frightening to know that an organization such as Section Thirty One exists.

"You believe what the Founder said then?" Lucas questioned.

He didn't know what to believe. "Either way, we're in for trouble. If Section Thirty One does exist, those in charge won't be too pleased at having been exposed. If it doesn't exist, the merely possibility of its presence will spread panic throughout the upper echelons of the fleet." If he were to cast light, and doubt, into the shadowy recesses of fleet command, would he be doing the Founder's work for him? And if he said nothing, would he be protecting an insidious threat to the very existence of the Federation--regardless the outcome of the Dominion War.

Suddenly the captain seemed lost in thought. The pair walked farther without speaking until finally they were alone in a turbolift. "Is there something you are planning to do, Captain? Or not do?"

"Hmmm?" Brower was shaken from his thoughts.

"What will your official report to fleet command say?"

Brower suddenly touched the computer access panel near the lift doors. "Computer, new destination. Take me to deck three." The lift slowed and ever so gently changed directions. "I'm sorry, Lucas. I have some things to think about." The lift arrived at its destination and the doors opened. "I'll catch up with you later."

Lucas watched him step quietly into the corridor, appearing as though the weight of the galaxy rested on his shoulders.