4.2 - Recovery

[fthelev]

Prologue.

1.
About two months ago.

The man waiting didn’t look much at ease. Huddled away in his jacket, it was clear he was waiting for someone. Skittishly he glanced around, trying to penetrate the twilight that came falling rapidly. Even though the sun started to set only ten minutes ago, it was already hard to make out form and shape in the alley, the last rays of sunlight being blocked by the tall buildings rising up from either side.
Except for the distant traffic and the occasional sound made by the nightlife that started to wake it was quiet. He had been standing there for what seemed like an eternity, but he knew couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Ten at most. He shivered. It felt as if the fading light was taking the warmth of the day with it. Although it had been beautiful day, it was only now that you could notice that winter was still present even though spring had set in.
It was the silhouette of a person approaching that caught his attention, and shortly after he could distinguish the sounds of footsteps on the pavement. The silhouette approaching looked tall and well built. It formed a contrast with his footsteps which were light, as if he was hardly touching the ground.
This would be the first time he would actually meet his employer in person. When they had first approached him for the job it had been through intermediaries.
“You have it?” the tall man asked as he reached him. He had a hood pulled over his head, keeping it from being seen.
The other man nodded, he seemed to be even more nervous than before. “Y...y…yes. I…I have it.” He had to look up almost a foot to face his employer. “D...do you have my payment?”
“All in good time,” the answer came. “I want to verify you have the formula first.”
He could understand that, and even if he didn’t, these were not the people you want to mess with. His hand disappeared under his jacket, but was suddenly stopped.
The heavy hand of the tall man had a firm grip on his lower arm. “Slowly. Very slowly.”
The man swallowed with some difficulty and nodded. Slowly as ordered he pulled out a PADD.
“Everything you need is on this.” He held up the device and waved it for a second, managing to slip out the words without stuttering this time. He had gone through great lengths to obtain the data. It hadn’t been easy, breaking in a high security Federation facility, but the promised reward was proportional to the work. Perhaps even better. But if he had known who he would be working for he would never have done it, although the gods knew he could do with the payment. Perhaps he should have known, not that many people have use for this kind of information.
The tall man switched on the PADD, his hands dimly lit by the soft diffuse light it was emitting, and scrolled through the data. Everything was there. He hadn’t expected it to be any different.
“M…m…my payment?”
A card held between his fore and middle finger was offered to him. “This will allow you to transfer the credits to any account you want.”
The man took the card and glanced at it. He was familiar with the procedure.
“T...thank you,” he muttered.
“No problem,” the tall man said, “There’s one thing…”
“A…a…and what i…is that?” the knot in his stomach tightened.
“It has an expiry date,” the tall man replied, “So you better cash it fast.”
“When does it expire?”
An uneasy silence followed.
“Now.”
For a second the alley was lit with by a blue light. The man noticed a few things. The hood had been taken off, and he could see the tall man grin silently. But what really caught his eye, was the phaser in his hand. The phaser that shot him.
The tall man picked up the card he had handed over to his victim and walked away. Behind him the unfortunate man crumpled to the floor. His man would take care of him later. Tomorrow he would just be an alien found dead, floating in the harbour. He chuckled; the government should put out a warning against swimming.
There was something fishy going on.

[fthelev]

2.
One day ago.

“What?!” If it sounded like a short sharp snap, it was meant that way. Somewhat annoyed he had answered the intercom. With all that business with that mining colony and the situation with the Debrune it would be an understatement to say he was fairly busy.
For a second it remained silent on the other end of the comm. “Admiral, I thought you might want to keep informed.” Magellan Lin immediately recognized the voice of his XO.
“What is it?”
“Those two officers we had to send to Tammeron...”
“Yes.”
“They’ve sent the prearranged signal sir. They have the data and need to be extracted,” Rear-Admiral Loskene informed him.
Admiral Lin ran a hand over his thin oval face. “I take it you have a ship ready?”
Although invisible to Lin, Loskene nodded on the other end of the line. “The Nevada just returned from their escort duty to Betazed. They can be there within a day.”
Lin repeated his last action, only this time his other hand joined in. The Nevada. If they only knew who they were going to pick up. Personally he rather had another vessel do the job, but alas, things were as were.
“You know what Intelligence ordered us. Need to know only, that goes for the Nevada as well,” Lin finally said, “It suffices to only tell them they are picking up two people, no identities.”
“I’ll provide them with the contact details,” Loskene said taking note of the order.
“Despatch them as soon as they are ready.” He broke off the comlink and leant back in his chair.
He remembered receiving the ‘request’ from Starfleet Intelligence. It was a miracle those two were still alive.

FIVE WEEKS EARLIER

Skilfully Loskene caught the communiqué his superior tossed towards him. “What is it?”
He didn’t wait for an answer and found out at the first glance. “Starfleet Intelligence?” A brow was raised to support the inquiring tone in his voice.
Lin nodded. “They want two officers from the Nevada do a job for them.”
A frown appeared. “The Nevada? They don’t have people onboard trained for covert operations.”
The Admiral gestured at the PADD. “It’s all in there, read for yourself.”
Starbase Assailant’s XO skipped through the file, occasionally muttering the points of interest.
“…says Starfleet Intelligence made several attempts to infiltrate the Tammeron Consortium…none successful. …With the theft of some medical research, believed to be mandated by the Consortium, the necessity to infiltrate and recover the information is paramount.”
Loskene looked up from the file. “Medical research?”
“Further down,” Lin indicated, “Apparently it’s something that can be used for a lot of good, but in the wrong hands it can be disastrous.”
“Ah,” Loskene said and scrolled down and read the part before continuing. “…due to the exclusive structure of the organisation very few options for infiltration and gaining a foothold within the Consortium are left open and untried.”
“The acquaintance of…” the Rear-Admiral paused and looked at the file unbelievingly and gave the First Fleet commander an interrogatory look.
“They went to school together,” Lin elucidated.
“Hmm, the acquaintance of,” he repeated, “of commander Frek Thelev might provide a unique opportunity for…”
Once again he looked up. “Thelev…isn’t he that…?”
Admiral Lin gave him a murky smile and nodded. “The Andorian with the medical file longer than your average Izaran tapeworm. They want the doctor along because of her medical knowledge, to identify the data.”
Quickly Loskene read through the rest of the file. “At least they came up with a plausible background story to get them in contact with that former classmate of his.”
While he handed the file back something occurred to him. “They are awfully forthcoming with information this time.”
A grim smile appeared. “This isn’t the first ‘request’ they sent. I told them I wouldn’t even consider it unless they gave me more information.”
“And now?”
Lin sighed and reluctantly gave the order. “Have a vessel intercept the Nevada to take Thelev and Doctor Lorre back to Assailant for briefing.”

[fthelev]

Mission.

THE DAY BEFORE[/b]

“Are you here?” His voice was a soft whisper in the dark. He stared into the shadows where she had been hiding, but he had difficulty spotting her.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Her voice sounded tense, “You have it?”
Frek nodded and held up the PADD while Melain emerged from the shades. She not only sounded tense she looked it as well. The strain of working undercover for the past weeks. He could feel it as well. If things would become more strained his antennas would break off when he tried to wiggle them.
“I activated the signal,” she said keeping her voice low while she examined the PADD she took from Frek. “This seems to be it.”
A soft breeze coming from the ocean side of the city was starting to blow through the empty streets. Soon the first drops started the fall.
“Let’s get back and wait for the confirmation signal,” Frek suggested. With a little luck they could get some sleep and with some more luck they would be underway to Assailant this time tomorrow. The thought alone almost brought ecstasy to him.


THE NEXT DAY

When Frek awoke the Tammeron sun was sending its rays of light through the windows of the little apartment that had been arranged for them by his former classmate, their employer the past few weeks. It took them a good two weeks to gain his trust and have him to arrange their admittance with his superiors. It took almost another three to locate, and get to the file. Thankfully he was reasonably high-up in the organisation and being under his wing certainly opened some doors. On the other hand, they were also constantly being watched. But they pulled it off. Soon they would be on their way home again and hopefully he would never have to see that Trill again.

In the distance Frek could see the high buildings towering up, effectively marking the city centre. On the other side, much closer, the ocean and old harbour were visible. The lesser part of the town. Once, when tall ships still sailed the Tammeron oceans, this had been the city’s nerve centre. But that had been along time ago. Mass transporters and the opening of the interstellar boundaries had made it obsolete. Now it all looked grey, the buildings old and ill maintained.
Definitely not the place to take your little children for a nice stroll in the sun. Good chance they would catch some eerie decease. Frek was glad the apartment was not in the middle of it. It was near the edge, but too close for comfort.

After his routine glance out of the window Frek strolled into the living room annex kitchen, hallway and several other things you normally like to have separated. Melain was already up fixing something that was probably breakfast. It looked way too healthy.
Frek yawned. It had been a late night. It took almost three hour before the response to their signal came. It had only been a short message. A confirmation and a brief instruction in code.
It all came down to a location and time where they would meet the contact that would get them in contact with the vessel sent to pick them up.

“Good morning,” Melain said cheery. Clearly he wasn’t the only who was happy to leave this planet behind. He had never seen a place that was so rotten. If something flourished here it wasn’t mildew or fragrant flowers you would get for your lover. Although he heard they had the latter in the meadows outside the city. No, if something flourished here, it was crime. The ones that say that crime doesn’t pay should have seen the offices in use by the Tammeron Consortium. You couldn’t get more luxurious than that, or illegal.
“You want some?” she asked.
Frek peeked at the bowl and wrinkled his nose. “Aren’t there some cookies left?”

The park on the second floor in one of the city centre’s largest structures was an ideal place to arrange a meeting. It was always busy with locals, with their orange skin, and aliens alike. Mostly people wanting to get out, or away from their desk. And of course you had your several daring tourists who didn’t mind getting mugged. The park was an architectonic feat on itself.

The breeze that came through the open sides of the floor ruffled Frek’s orange hair. It was almost identical to the skin colour of the Tammerons.
“I really don’t get it,” he said to Melain.
“What?” she gave him a questioningly look.
Frek made a wide gesture. “Ever since we came to this place these people keep nodding and smiling at me.”
He looked down to her. “It’s creepy.”
She stealthily peeked at his hair. “It’s a mystery,” she said as serious as possible and glanced at a middle-aged couple that passed and nodded approvingly to Frek.
She stretched out her arm. “There it is.” She was pointing at a sign. Behind it the path meandered out of sight, hidden by some bushes and trees. Looked like they were early, there was no sign of their contact.

Except for the file safely tucked away in Melain’s pocket they didn’t carry any luggage. There was no need to; after all they weren’t leaving anything important behind. Frek had planted himself with his back to the signpost. Back to back with a plant that was leaning against the same post from the other side.
“He should be here soon,” Frek thought. They had met him before, when they came to Isanti, the name of the city. It was the third largest city on the planet, after the capital and some big industrial city. Although it wasn’t the Tammeron capital it did housed the planet’s government, which was one of the reasons the Consortium chose it as its base of operations.
“There he comes now,” Melain said standing opposite to him, “I can hear footsteps.”
Frek pushed himself away from the signpost to greed the contact that came walking up to them. He had about just extended his hand when someone came from around the same corner their contact had appeared from. His mouth dropped as they stood eye in eye with probably the very last persons they wished to encounter at this point. They must have been closely behind the contact.

For a moment he stood frozen, as if nailed to the ground. Or possibly glued with some superglue if that has preference. A metre of two away the others did the same. Perhaps T’Ror reacted somewhat fast than he did. Her hand shot down and up again, suddenly holding a nasty looking weapon. Luckily for Frek the contact turned around to see the source of the consternation. Not so lucky for him he stepped right into the phaser beam. It left a nasty burn. He crumpled and fell back towards Frek. It was obvious that the only one the contact would be contacting would be his gods, if he had any.
Frek pushed the body away towards T’Ror with force. The body took another phaser hit, before hitting T’Ror and her companion. Not that it would matter; he could hardly get any more dead than he already was. At least it brought them out of balance.

This was definitely bad. So close to getting off this world and everything collapsed on them as a card house. It shot through Frek’s mind it was totally unfair. It was best to get out of the park in the best time possible before something else shot through his head. Running into T’Ror was a bad enough, but it was the guy she was with that did it. It wasn’t Oro D’log, although he would probably be around too. No, it was one of Wilan Fren’s, his former classmate, most trusted men. Even a blind fish swinging in an underground pool could see this was not good. Their cover was blown.

“They’re Starfleet!” Frek could hear T’Ror snarl.
He didn’t wait for her to get back to her feet and grabbed Melain by the hand and said one word. Okay, he said a lot of words. But that was the sort of language that is generally not taught in schools. But the one decent word he said came straight out of his heart in the most passionate way he ever said a thing. “Run!”

Hours must have passed since the managed to get away. But now the trouble was only beginning.

(2822/70074)

[Deleted]

(O.O.C okay, I'm going to catch up with Frek)

FOUR WEEKS PRIOR

The Nevada had a short lay over period between docking back at base, and delivering the Treasure back to the Betazoids. Melain used this opportunity to check in at the Assailant's Bajoran Temple (an opportunity she rarely had), spend some quality time with Massally, say farewell to Danara who was off to StarBase Conquerer and go out on a short dinner date with Javelle after one of the Temple services.

"So, are you doing to go out with him again, I hear an excellent band will be playing at one of the jazz clubs tonight." Rachel asked after Melain had told her about the date.

"I don't know if I should move first," Melain replied, the whole event had been fairly awkward and they ended up talking about the day's sermon for lack of a better subject. 'I had a nice time, yes, but I want to take it slow. Right now I'm not even sure I like him any more then a friend. Pass me the Microsuture." Melain replied, Rachel handed her the tool and Melain placed it near 'Massally's' parietal lobe. They where only running a simulation, but so far everything had gone perfectly. Melain had used a Genetronic Replicator from the star base to create a copy of what Massally's ossicle bones should have been like. The tricky part then would be placing them in Massally’s Eustachian tube, but in this trial, that had gone smoothly. Once the real operation was complete Massally would need some intensive hearing therapy to deal with a sudden barrage on her once silent world, and eventually they would place a universal translator in her as well. Much to Melain’s dismay the Nevada could not accommodate these procedures, so Massally would spent the next few months on the Starbase with some specialists. When Melain explained all this to the Dradrian girl, Massally seemed to understand. She wanted to hear, and she was willing to enter under the care fo strangers to do so.

=A=Doctor Lorre, please report to my ready room.=A= Harrias's voice sounded over Melain's comm badge

=A=Computer end program.=A= Melain ordered, the copy of sickbay vanished, leaving Melain and Rachel alone in a blank room. “I wonder what he wants, this should not take long.”

Melain headed to the Commodor’s ready room as fast as she could, an overwhelming curiosity driving her onwards. Harrias insisted Melain have a seat and moments later Frek arrived, they gave each other confused looks, and then listened.

Melain never thought she would be the type who would be given such a mission, and yet here she was being sent on a mission even her captain didn't know the details on. She returned to Sickbay and had Rachel change Massally’s operation to the Starbase CMO saying that her step father was terribly sick and wanted her home. That as a trained medical professional she could not turn his request down. She set in order her affairs, saying good-bye to her team, farewell t Javelle and a teary “I’ll be back” to Massally who was not very excited about being operated on by another doctor. To be frank, Melain was not happy about this either, but orders where orders and she was a Star fleet officer. She headed to the Starbase to meet with Admiral Lin

Back on the Assailant Melain and Frek where given careful instructions. Afterward, afraid to mess up in the slightest, Melain took these instructions to heart, She went to one of the lesser known barbers to get her hair cut just below the ears, it was a painful affair considering she hadn’t had it done since she was a child. she dyed it slightly more red, they where not exactly taking on new identities, but it was important that she look a little more relaxed then she did on the ship. Melain changed into civilian clothes abandoning anything that made her look remotely Star Fleet. Last she baught a new earring oof a jeweler on the promenade. She sent her old one, which meant os much more to her since she was told it's origine, back to her quarters and then caught a transport to some backwash planet she didn’t catch the name of. From there she would make her way to Tammeron and “conveniently” meet up with Frek.

4 WEEKS LATER and THE "NEXT DAY"

Melain woke up early and prepared breakfast like she had for the past 5 weeks. Hopefully this would be the last time she would need to put up with Frek’s complaints about her cooking. Everything had gone as planned, their motives had not been questioned, and Melain was actually gaining a reputation around town as the “go to girl” for injuries sustained doing anything illegal. She was posing as a Star Fleet dropout, a Bajoran angry about the way the Federation had dealt with the Cardassians. To be honest this was not extremly difficult and it was getting easier each day, this troubled her. They told anyone asking pesky questions that Frek and her where buddies at the academy and had both ended up on Tammeron and decided to room together. They’d infiltrated the Tammeron Consortium through Frek's old classmate, and spent the past few weeks running small errands for the crime circle. From there Frek and her had gained the Consortium’s trust and recovered the stolen medical data. Once Melain got a look at the PaDD she knew why Star Fleet wanted it back, this was very very delicate information and the Consortium was not exactly a wholesome research facility.

Frek got up the same time as usual, late. He then complained about Melain's "health food", She had not admitted it, but Melain was trying to get him used to vegetables. So far she had not been very successful. Both of them had lost weight. In any other place Melain would have seen this as a good thing, at least for Frek, but Tammeron was the type of place you wanted a little weight to 'throw around" like a cat puffing up to scare away a threat. Melain suspected the weight loss was due to two things, poor food availability (prevelent in this area of town) and nerves, mainly nerves. Melain had grown tired as well, not to mention somewhat paranoid. For the life of her she could not figure out how the Star Fleet intelligence officer's stayed sane.

Frek and her wolfed down their meal and headed out to the street to find their contact. At last heading home, back to the Nevada, back to Massally, Back to Javelle.... Melain had to admit, the saying “absence makes the heart grow stronger” was true. She wondered what the crew must think about her and Frek’s long LOA, and what she would be able to tell them when she got back. By the Prophets she was glad this was over. As much as she stood by the Hippocratic oath, there where some people she hated treating: murderers, thieves, and worse. Then there where the errands they had to run, luckily known had been extremly illegal, but she knew they where only a piece of a much bigger crime, and often a vital piece.

She settled on the same signpost as Frek to wait for their contact, a Trill man who’d been in the business far to long. A few passerbys gave her a wave, one women she'd removed a suspicouse "sliver" from and a man wh's broken arm she'd healed. She caught sight of the contact and prepared to signal their readiness when things jumped into Fast Forward. Before she knew it the Trill was on the ground, a good sized phaser burn in his chest, Melain knew he was dead. T’Ror, the last person in the galaxy she wanted to see, was yelling at the top of her Vulcan lungs about them being Star Fleet and Frek equalled her decimal level with “Run!!”

Melain felt Frek’s hand grab her arm and followed him through the tangle of factories, run down apartments and civilians. So much for getting home.

------------------------

“I think we lost her.” Frek panted as they stopped under the shadow of an old bridge.

“I think we lost her an hour ago. I had my doubts about you Frek, but you can really move when you need to.” Melain replied, resting her back against the concrete wall. “What do we do?” she asked, certain he had the same question. Nervously she fidgeted with her hair. It had grown slightly, but she still was not used to the length. It had tangled up as well, something she would have never let happen on the Nevada, but on Tammeron, messy hair and a derelict appearance where expected.

<Tag Frek>

(1472/66365)

[Deleted]

*Weeks ago*

Cyle was overseeing the shipment of artifacts from the Nevada onto the Starbase, keeping him busy for the time being. The little time he had he saw to the imprisonment of his old "friend" bo'Tija. He had barely enough time to do anything else, so the dissaperence of Melain and Frek hadnt crossed his mind

*Today*

Cyle awoke after a long sleep, which he was told he deserved and needed. He got up and got himself dressed, then headed towards a resturaunt, ordering a plate of pancakes, and tall glass of water, full to the brim.

Finding a seat he sat down and started eating, nodding at a few other inhabitants and smiling at the waitress as she walked by.

[Harrias Jira]

An empty glass was on the wooden coffee table, its previous contents betrayed by the bottle of brandy resting next to it. An arm reached out towards it, and Harrias poured another glass for himself. He took a sip from it and then lay back down on his sofa, his book above his head. He eyes slid from side to side scanning, rather than reading, the words. The simply pleasures of life still remained, and he far preferred reading printed text than words from a console or PADD. The script he was reading currently was a reasonably recent publication from trill, although it was based well back in their past; before the majority of their technological breakthroughs.

He flipped a page over, but before his eyes could focus in on the words again his computer chirped quietly, breaking the silence he had been enjoying so much. It had been just over a month since they had recovered the treasure. They had taken an unhurried journey back, slowed by the transport vessel and stopping off to render minor assistance on a couple of planets on their way. They were now patrolling the Betreka Sector in a standard, low contact mission. He sighed and hit the button that was conveniently set into his coffee table, which revealed his also conveniently located laptop. When the screen had opened itself completely, he pressed another button which had been exposed by the lifting screen, and the face of Rear Admiral Loskene appeared on it.

- “Sir?”
- “Good morning Commodore.”
- “Morning? Oh, our ship time is set offset from assailant. I’ll have to slowly shift it back around. Good morning Admiral.”
- “You’ve been given another assignment. You are to cease your patrol duty and head immediately for Tammeron. According to your report last night you should be within a day’s journey of it?”
- “Aye sir, though we have moved away slightly since then, it will probably be more like 30 hours.”
- “That still makes you the closest. I’m afraid there isn’t much I can tell you about this mission Commodore, it is strictly need to know. And all you need to know is that you are going in to collect two of our assets who have been undercover there.”
- “Understood. I assume we will be given the frequencies, and pass-codes of any sort?”
- “They are being sent to you as we speak. Loskene out.”

The trill slumped back onto his sofa and let out a yawn. He had been enjoying this patrol, and his book. But then, one never knew, it might be an easy extraction. He scoffed quietly to himself, that never happened. He pulled himself back up to a sitting position and tapped his commbadge.

=/\= Jira to Thel… Paver. =/\= He cursed himself quietly for the slip, having forgotten that Frek had been at Assailant for the past few weeks. He had meant to ask about it next time he spoke to anyone from the base, but it had completely slipped his mind when Loskene had contacted him.
=/\= Yes sir, Paver here. =/\= The reply came back, and if she was bothered about the slip it hadn’t shown in her voice at all. She had excelled throughout the absence of the andorian, there was no need for outstanding piloting skills admittedly, but she got the job done efficiently and without constant moaning and injuries.
=/\= Lay in a course for Tammeron. Best possible speed. Our ETA should be about 30 hours right? =/\=
=/\= 29, aye sir. Course engaged. =/\=
=/\= Thank you. Jira out. =/\=

[hannah]

Hannah lifted the last box of the antigrav unit into her new quarters. Hannah looked around the new larger room which had boxes littered across the floor, she was amazed at all the extra stuff she’d acquired since she’d joined the academy.

Hannah had been assigned new quarters over a month ago when she was promoted to first officer but they’d been filled with boxes of artefacts for delivery for Betazed like most of the other vacant quarters. Now that they had dropped them off to a very grateful Betazed government and the Nevada was now patrolling the Betreka Sector, the room was empty ready for her to move into to.

She spent the last few hours after finishing her shift on bridge, packing and moving boxes between her old and new quarters. Now she had to unpack it all, she was beginning to wish she’d stayed in her former quarters. She moved over to the closest box, that was filled with clothes and that she began to move into her wardrobe and draws.

An hour later, Hannah was walking back to her quarter after taking the antigrav unit and boxes back to the cargo bay. As soon as she entered the room she threw of her shoes and collapsed onto the sofa. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself fall a sleep.

She woke up hour and half an hour later and she looked at the antique clock that she had placed on the side cabinet next to her bed, it was just after 23:00 hours. She had an early shift in the morning so she forced herself up and got changed into her pyjamas and climbed into her new bed. She closed her eyes and was out like a light.

Next Morning:

Hannah turned over and pulled the covers over her head trying to ignore the alarm. She really didn’t want to get up, but knew she had very little choice in the matter. Hannah pushed the covers down to bottom of the bed.

“Computer stop alarm, I’m getting up,” she screamed as she sat up in the bed. She swung her feet around and placed them on the carpeted floor and stood up. She entered into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. She looked horrendous, her hair was everwhere and eyes displayed the fact that she was still asleep.

“Computer activate sonic shower,” she ordered once she’d undressed and stepped into the unit. The sonic waves dissipated all the dirt on her body, but it didn’t manage to wake her up. She stepped out of the unit and changed into her uniform. She was getting use to wearing the red of command instead of the yellow of engineering. She grabbed her brush and gave her hair a quick brush and then tired part of it back into a bobble.

“A bow ofl porridge and cup of coffee,” she ordered to the replicator. The food appeared moments later and Hannah took the breakfast over to the table. She ate quickly as she knew she was due on the bridge shortly.

She stood up leaving the dirty plates on the table she would tidy up later. Hannah exited her quarters and headed to the bridge.

On arrival is noticed that the bridge was darker than the corridors that she’d just walked though and the turbolift she’d left moment ago. She glanced around realising that she was the only officer from the day shift to arrive.

She headed towards the captain’s chair that Commander Talla was sat in.

“Anything to report?” Hannah asked.

“The captain ordered a course change to Tammeron last night,” Talla informed Hannah as he stood up gesturing the chair to Hannah. She sat down in the chair making herself comfortable.

“Begin day shift,” Hannah ordered the computer and the bridge lit up to full lighting level.

[fthelev]

When they finally dared to settle down for a moment Frek reached up for the hat he had been wearing to pluck it off. To be honest, he didn’t know what to do either. Finally his breathing started to calm down a bit after their wild run. Andorians are clearly not built for these sorts of athletics. Okay, perhaps it was only this particular Andorian, him. But still.

“Ooohh,” he groaned miserably. He desperately was trying to free his hat from his antennas. Or the other way around, that depends on how you looked at it.
Melain looked at him in an examining way. “Are you hurt?” Her voice betrayed a trace of worry. One of them getting hurt in this particular situation was not entirely favourable.
He gave her a painful look. “Of course I’m hurt,” he said tragically, “What do you think all that running does to my system? It’s killing me!”
A sigh emerged from Melain. “If you hadn’t, T’Ror would’ve killed you.”

Okay, she might have a point there, Frek admitted.
She watched her cohort struggle with his hat. “Besides, with a normal breakfast instead of those stale cookies you wouldn’t have this problem,” she lectured while observing how Frek finally managed to get the hat off.
“Hmpf,” was all he said. He rested his back against the same concrete wall as Melain had done and let himself slide down to the ground. This was a prickly situation. It left a visible trail, the dirt on the wall transferring to the back of his jacket. Almost as prickly as wrestling match in a mud pool filled with Benzite cactuses.

He wiped his head with his hat. His hair was a moist entangled mass that was pasted against his skull. Frek stared at it, finally feeling somewhat better. The piece of headgear probably held enough sweat by now to fill a tile and drown and Earth cat in. What he was more concerned with was how he could keep Melain and himself from being drowned.

“What’s your friend going to do with us when he finds us?” Melain asked quietly.
Frek stared at the wall on the opposite side of the alley. No doubt his ‘classmate’ wouldn’t be dancing the Trill rumba thrilled with joy. As a child he always had a very lively imagination, writing plays about love and happiness. The plays he made up now were very unlikely to have anything to do with love and happiness, or theatre itself for that matter. For a helpful young teen that loved his mother he had come a long way. Stories went around that said he actually sold his mother to the salt mines on the other side of the quadrant last year. Of course those were only speculations; nonetheless, it was obvious he changed.

He finally shrugged. “I don’t think he’s my ‘friend’ anymore,” he answered still staring at wall, “And I honestly don’t know, but I think it’s best if we don’t find out.” He hadn’t seen him in years, that is until recently, not since he left Trill and joined the A.S.S., the Andorian School for Spaceflight.

Luckily for them the appointment with their contact had been scheduled late in the afternoon, and although the days started to grow a bit longer everyday twilight was already falling. It would give them a better chance to avoid being spotted.
Aliens were not uncommon on this world, not at all. You had plenty of honest and ‘honest’ business people on Tammeron. Somewhat bendable rules could be an advantage for a lot companies. And of course not to mention the presence of the Tammeron Consortium, attracting their own brand of off-worlders. And although you wouldn’t immediately expect it, tourism wasn’t uncommon either, at least not in small quantities. Granted, the planet’s economic system would probably collapse without the crime and other shady practices, but it also brought in wealth. And plenty of that as well. It allowed a highly sophisticated society. Perhaps the planet lacked in natural impressive landscapes, but they had made up for that with grandiose buildings, parks and other great feats of architecture that attracted visitors. Of course, you had to be a bit adventurous and keep out of the older and neglected parts of the cities when not familiar with it, but that didn’t scare off the people who stayed in the luxurious hotels, in the modern parts of the cities.
But even with all those aliens, how hard would it be to find an attractive Bajoran doctor and an orange haired Andorian? Especially when probably at least half the population was on either the government’s or the Consortium’s payroll. They most likely had eyes and ears everywhere.

Frek got up to his feet and walked over to the end of the cul-de-sac. Something that looked to him like an entrance to a basement was sealed of with some kind of hatch. Clearly it wasn’t stainless steel as it didn’t look as if it was in its best condition. Carefully Frek tried it out, putting down some pressure on them by leaning on it with a foot.
“What are you doing?” Melain asked, observing his actions.
“Huh.” Frek looked up, forgetting what he was doing and put his whole weight on it. There was a creaking sound of metal giving way and his foot sank through the planks.

“You could’ve broken your ankle,” Melain said after he finally freed himself.
Frek grimaced. “Thanks for the warning.” He rubbed his ankle. No harm appeared to be done, everything was still intact. Except for the hatch that is. It had a nice hole in it. Frek peered inside. In the dim light he could make out some crates and pallets. A pile of empty sacks were thrown into a heap in the corner. The air smelled stale.
The only ones having a good time in there would probably be some generally unwanted rodents.
“I think we better hide until dark,” Frek suggested, “We can decide what to do afterwards.”

A romantic chalet in the mountains overlooking a crystal clear lake and snow topped trees this definitely was not, but it at least was safe. That is, as long as you didn’t suffer an infectious bite by some creature you don’t necessarily want to meet. Something that didn’t seem impossible in there.

With everyone in this city looking for them it might be an unhealthy idea to stick around for too long, it occurred to Frek. In another town they might have a little bit more freedom of movement and hopefully a better chance to get to someone or at least something that could help them contact Starfleet or whoever could help them. The only contact in this town here, was a little bit too dead to be of any help. He would discuss this with Melain, she might have better or similar ideas.

Time passed slowly, both contemplating their joys and sorrows. Well, in this situation mostly sorrows. At least he was glad that Melain was with him. Not that he wanted her to be in this mess of course, but still...
Involuntarily he shrugged and looked aside and stared at her for a minute. He raised an antenna. “You cut you hair,” he observed cleverly and then complimented; “It looks good on you.”
For a second she stared at him with her mouth half open. “But Frek,” she exclaimed disbelievingly, “I cut it at least five weeks ago!”
An eyebrow followed the antenna. “Is it?” he inquired. Frek sighed, typically women, impossible to please. It’s never good.

(4085/71337)

[gracemitchell]

Grace had just finished making breakfast when her door chimed. When she opened the door on the other side was Lani.

"I thought I smelled bacon" Lani said.

"Never could fool your nose. I thnk I need to request a change in quarters. You always seem to be passing mine lately, when I am cooking."

Lani smiled and licked his lips expectantly and said"Can't help myself. I love homecooking."

"Don't give me that. You told me yourself you only had replicated food until you met me." Grace chided him.

"Alright, so I fudged on the truth a wee bit. Do you blame me. I have discovered since you've been back that I like hand cooked food over replicated."

"Good. I prefer to cook my own over the replicators. I sort of fell out of cooking for a while there. But, while on that last mission I really missed cooking, so I can't seem to help myself. I am glad you stop by every morning, as I don't like to eat alone as a rule."

"I knew I was good for something around here." Lani looked at the table "I see you were expecting me."

"Actually, I invited Cyle for breakfast, but you are welcome to stay. I made plenty!"

"You sure you don't mind?"

Just then the door chimed again, Grace went to answer it while replying to Lani "Of ocurse I don't mind. I half expected you to show up." Grace opened the door "Well, right on time, CYle. Lani is going to join us as well."

"Great. Is her cooking any good?" Cyle asked Lani them added "I'm used to replicated, it's a hard standard to beat!"

The look on Grace's face was almost mutinous. Cyle started to laugh "Finally the ever happy Counselor has an angry face, too. And here I thought you weren't human." Lani joined in laughing.

"Oooo! I have a good mind to poision the two of you. Now, sit down and eat before I pour coffee on your heads." The words were angry words but she couldn't help smiling at them.

Then her face changed to one of a blank look.

"Uh oh, a vision!" Lani exclaimed.

Cyle stared for a moment "I heard about them but have never seen one."

Grace started to say in monotone voice "Frek. Melain. T'Ror. running. dead." then she slumped and looked around.

Lani asked "Grace what was it this time?"

"I'm not sure. I saw Frek and Melain running from T'Ror. Another man was dead. I couldn't see his face. Didn't know who it was."

Cyle asks "Maybe it was a left over from the Treasure mission?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we should contact the starbase to see if Frek and Melain are alright." Grace said

Breakfast forgotten, Lani contacted the bridge to inform them of Grace's vision.

(I'm back! Aren't you happy to see me!)

[Deleted]

In the faint light of the basement Melain fought to find a comfortable place to sit. She found an area where a pile of rotten wood was laying against the wall and sat down.

fthelev said:

“You cut you hair,” he observed cleverly and then complimented; “It looks good on you.”
For a second she stared at him with her mouth half open. “But Frek,” she exclaimed disbelievingly, “I cut it at least five weeks ago!”
An eyebrow followed the antenna. “Is it?” he inquired. Frek sighed, typically women, impossible to please. It’s never good.

"Yeah, and coloured it and got a new earring." Melain replied, sure she was 'playing herself' but any deserting Star Fleet officer would have made a point to change their appearence. Frek was a typical male, completly obliviose to anything above the chest. "Look, we need to get are bearings, figure out what is and is not working in our favor. Let's start with what we know." Melain leaned her head back on the basement wall, and felt something move. 'Yuck!" she yelped, pulling her head back with the acompanying bugs. She swatted them out of her hair and tried to calm the shivers down her spine. Normally things like bugs did not bother her, but this whole place creeped her out. She sat down on the floor after carefully checking for more living things. Trying to seem unfazed she tuned out Frek's muffled laughter. "So what do we know?"

"Let's see, our contact is dead, a phsyopathic Vulcan is out to put a phaser burn through our skulls and that's only if the Consortium does not get to us first. We have no way off this planet, and since it will be all over the City tommorow morning that there are Star Fleet personnal running around we will have every one looking for revenge, hostages or a bounty on us in no time, there are bugs on the wall." Frek replied. 'oh, and you cut your hair."

Melain rolled her eyes. "Alright, now here is what's working in our favor. We are not dead, there are ships leaving this panet constantly so we are not necessarily trapped. Star Fleet is going to notice that we have not been picked up, so someone is going to send a search team. if not for us, fo the data Pad in my pocket. It's also a big city and with lots of people looking for us, chances are they will run into each other and not like the competition."

"So you are suggesting we just sit here till help arrives?" Frek asked.

Melain shook her head "Don't be silly, we are sitting ducks if we stay here. We need to keep moving and I suggest we go back to the apartment."

"Back to the Appartment, are you nuts! That is the first place they will look for us!" Frek exclaimed. His antenna stood strait up, over the past few weeks Melain had begun to find them annoying.

"Maybe so, but there are things there we need. Food, money, clothes and my med kit. Maybe if we can get them to think we are somewhere else, we can get in and out of the appartment with little difficulty." Melain proposed, she stood up and dusted off her pants. "It should be dark out now."

"How do you propose we trick them?" Frek asked.

"I'm not sure. I came up with the plan, you can deal with the details." Melain replied, Tammeron had an extensive media circuit, perhaps they could use that to their ability.

<Tag Frek>

(66902/2011)

[hannah]

Hannah sat in the captain’s chair reading though reports; most of the nightshift staff had now been replaced with the familiar faces of the day shift by now. Hannah mind drifted back to five weeks ago to when the captain announced that she would be taking over the first officer position, she’d been so very surprised about it. She had applied for the job, but had never expected to get it.

Her console bleeped indicating someone was trying to contact the bridge.

=/\= Bridge here =/\= Hannah said.

Lani voice came though and explained Grace’s vision to her.

=/\= I’ll contact the starbase to check they are fine and then contact you again=/\= Hannah said as she closed the communications channel. She then turned to the young man operating ops.

“Open a communications channel with Starbase Assailant,” she ordered. He ran his finger across his console and a few moments later he starred back up at her.

“Comm. channel open,” he said. A face of a young female Barjoran ensign appeared on the view screen.

=/\= This is Starbase Assailant. How many we help you? =/\= she asked with a smile.

=/\= I would like to know the status of two Nevada officer, commanders Thelev and Lorre =/\=

The young woman accessed the console in front of her and a few second later looked back up at Hannah.

=/\= I’m sorry that information is classified =/\=

=/\= My counsellor is telepath and has a bad vision about them, couldn’t you just check that they if they are alright =/\=

The young woman looked down at her console again.

=/\= I’m sorry, I don’t know, they have been sent on a classified mission, there is nothing I can tell you about there status =/\= the young officer explained genuinely sorry that she couldn’t be any more help.

=/\= Can you put me in contact with anyone who would know? =/\=

=/\= It’s out of our department’s hands, its Starfleet Intelligence, trying contacting them =/\=

=/\= Thank you =/\= Hannah said indicating to the ops to cut the communications channel. Hannah knew there was no point in contacting them there was no way they’d give out any information on two of there operatives to the Nevada. But Hannah was beginning to worry about the two officers safety with them working for Starfleet intelligence with Grace’s vision involving T’Ror.

She reopened the channel with Lani.

=/\= I’m sorry, I couldn’t get any information on Frek or Melain status, they appear to be working for Starfleet intelligence everything else is classified. =/\=

[gracemitchell]

Grace heard what Hannah had told Lani. Now she was extremely worried and there was nothing she could do about it except wait for one of them to contact the ship or her telepathically. She was hesitant to suggest to either Harrias or Hannah that she could contact Frek or Melain telepathically, as it would be a breach in Intelligence ethics to do so.

Cyle and Lani had lost their appetites completely by now and were anxious to get on with their day. Even though they didn't say so, Grace could tell they, too were worried as well.

[Deleted]

gracemitchell said:

Grace had just finished making breakfast when her door chimed. When she opened the door on the other side was Lani.

"I thought I smelled bacon" Lani said.

"Never could fool your nose. I thnk I need to request a change in quarters. You always seem to be passing mine lately, when I am cooking."

Lani smiled and licked his lips expectantly and said"Can't help myself. I love homecooking."

"Don't give me that. You told me yourself you only had replicated food until you met me." Grace chided him.

"Alright, so I fudged on the truth a wee bit. Do you blame me. I have discovered since you've been back that I like hand cooked food over replicated."

"Good. I prefer to cook my own over the replicators. I sort of fell out of cooking for a while there. But, while on that last mission I really missed cooking, so I can't seem to help myself. I am glad you stop by every morning, as I don't like to eat alone as a rule."

"I knew I was good for something around here." Lani looked at the table "I see you were expecting me."

"Actually, I invited Cyle for breakfast, but you are welcome to stay. I made plenty!"

"You sure you don't mind?"

Just then the door chimed again, Grace went to answer it while replying to Lani "Of ocurse I don't mind. I half expected you to show up." Grace opened the door "Well, right on time, CYle. Lani is going to join us as well."

"Great. Is her cooking any good?" Cyle asked Lani them added "I'm used to replicated, it's a hard standard to beat!"

The look on Grace's face was almost mutinous. Cyle started to laugh "Finally the ever happy Counselor has an angry face, too. And here I thought you weren't human." Lani joined in laughing.

"Oooo! I have a good mind to poision the two of you. Now, sit down and eat before I pour coffee on your heads." The words were angry words but she couldn't help smiling at them.

Then her face changed to one of a blank look.

"Uh oh, a vision!" Lani exclaimed.

Cyle stared for a moment "I heard about them but have never seen one."

Grace started to say in monotone voice "Frek. Melain. T'Ror. running. dead." then she slumped and looked around.

Lani asked "Grace what was it this time?"

"I'm not sure. I saw Frek and Melain running from T'Ror. Another man was dead. I couldn't see his face. Didn't know who it was."

Cyle asks "Maybe it was a left over from the Treasure mission?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we should contact the starbase to see if Frek and Melain are alright." Grace said

Breakfast forgotten, Lani contacted the bridge to inform them of Grace's vision.

(I'm back! Aren't you happy to see me!)

OOC of course we are grace.

Grace heard what Hannah had told Lani. Now she was extremely worried and there was nothing she could do about it except wait for one of them to contact the ship or her telepathically. She was hesitant to suggest to either Harrias or Hannah that she could contact Frek or Melain telepathically, as it would be a breach in Intelligence ethics to do so.

Cyle and Lani had lost their appetites completely by now and were anxious to get on with their day. Even though they didn't say so, Grace could tell they, too were worried as well.

"i think we need to speak with the CO" Cyle added in as the three we just sitting there. He got up and nearly knocked over his glass of water. Heading towards the door he pushed the bottun and turned the corner, heading towards the turbolift.

Cyle stepped out from the lift and Grace and Lani close behind him, walking straight up to the captain's ready roon he pushed the chime and waited for an answer. "i just hope he doesnt feel like we are over reacting or anything

OOC now, if only we can walk in and see the captain throwing a fit, that would make a odd moment i think

[Harrias Jira]

Hearing his chime, Jira glanced over at the traditional analogue clock hanging above the entrance. Quarter past seven, and already people wanted him. This had to be some kind of a record. He placed the PADD detailing Tammeron down onto the desk and called out.
- “It’s open.”
There was some fidgeting outside the door, presumably while the looked for the right button to open the door. After a few seconds someone must have found it as the door slid open and three figures entered. Cyle came first, looking a bit spooked, followed by Lani (tired) and Grace (white). Jira wondered what the trio could want.

- “Grace had a vision.” Cyle stated bluntly. “We think Frek and Lorre may be in danger.”
- “Of course Frek and Lorre are in danger. They are members of starfleet and they are on a mission.”
- “Grace saw them being chased by T’Ror, and there was someone else. Dead.”
Jira turned towards Grace. She nodded her head sorrowfully. He buried his face in his hands for a few seconds.
- “We’ll have to contact Assailant.”
- “We did. Well, Commander Stevenson did. They couldn’t tell us anything.”
- “I don’t see that there is much else we can do then. Assailant provides us with our only point of contact to our crewmembers, and if they are saying that they can’t tell us then we have to accept that. If there was anything wrong I am sure they would contact us.”

Grace looked at him, her eyes seeming to penetrate through him.
- “I could contact them. Just to…”
- “NO! If they are in danger I am sure there are routes available to them to get out of it. I will not have you contacting them without their consent.”

[Deleted]

" we cant just leave them out there, who knows where they are, or whos chasing them, We dont even know if they are OK" Cyle said raising his voice.

"Sit down!" Jira said firmly as Cyle began to pace around the room, aggitation settling in. He finally found a seat and sat bouncing his leg, keeping his mouth shut.

[gracemitchell]

"Commodore, I agree with Cyle. We need to find out what if anything is happening to our shipmates. They have been and will always be my top priority, no matter what!" Grace stated with a calmness, she didn't feel but was projecting. She felt Cyle was right but knew Harrias was more by the book then they were. Grace sat down near Cyle "Harrias, outwardly you are being very Star Fleet, but you can't tell me you aren't worried as well. I am not using telepathy, but my senses are on alert. I can feel it."

Harrias was trying to calm down before he spoke. Grace was correct, he was just as worried about Melain and Frek as they all were, but his hands were tied. "All of you, Star Fleet Intellegence will not give us any information on operatives until they are confirmed dead. There really is nothing we can do except wait for one of them to try and contact us. Then we will go find them and rescue them. In the meantime, we have a mission to complete. I suggest you all go to your respective posts, but remain alert, especially you Grace. Let me know if you have any more visions or recieve a telepathic message from one of them. I want to be kept informed. I dread saying this but, I think you will know Grace before Star Fleet Intellegence should one of them be killed. Do not try to contact them, but keep your mind and senses open, just in case."

Cyle, Grace and Lani looked at each other, nodded their heads in agreement, then left the ready room together.

Lani tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully and said "I'm going to my quarters. Grace if you have another vision, tell the Commodore first, but keep me informed as well. Good night both of you."

"Sorry, Lani. I forgot you've been up all night. You go rest, if something does happen, I will let you know. I'm due in my office for a consultation, right now." Grace said.

Cyle was more reluctant then the rest to leave and said "Grace perhaps someone should stay with you in case you do have a vision and need help."

"No, I should be fine. If I do have a vision or sense of loss or hear anything telepathically, I will keep you on my list to inform. I dare say, we should keep this to ourselves for now. We don't want to alarm the rest of the crew, yet."

The three of them parted ways, but Grace couldn't help feel extremly anxious. Something wasn't right, but she was sure that Harrias didn't have any more information then he had given them. Grace entered her office to find the crewman who was experiencing strange nightmares. "On to business." she thought to herself, outloud she said "Hello! How nice to see you again."

[fthelev]

A frown and a doubtful look subsequently appeared on Frek’s face. Tricking the less nice guys into thinking they were somewhere else in itself was a good idea. He could see one slight problem though. How the hell were they going to do that? In a series of short puffs Frek released the breath he was holding. Several things crossed his mind. The media circuit Melain mentioned might be an idea. Frek lifted his head that been resting on his arms, which in turn rested upon his pulled up knees.

“If we can hack the cities security feed,” Frek said slowly, “We could enter an image of ourselves letting them think it’s coming from the other side of town.”
Melain straightened. “Can we do that?” She sounded hopeful.
“No,” Frek sighed dejected, “We would at least need a tricorder, and the only tricorder we have is your civilian medical tricorder.”
“Which is in the apartment,” she added. Due to the nature of their assignment they hadn’t brought anything that might connect them to Starfleet.
“And even if we had it here,” Frek said, and he hated to admit it, “I’m not a very good hacker. Commander Stevenson might have pulled it off though.”

Normally he would have called her Hannah, but with the recent change in command she was now his superior, and he was somewhat reluctant to call a superior officer in such an informal way.
Melain wasn’t surprised. Not him calling Hannah by her formal designation, but him not being a good hacker. In all likelihood he would lead the Consortium’s men to them, instead of the leading them away.
So much for plan number one.

For a moment he felt his courage sink as fast and deep as your average passenger liner in an arctic sea, to be remained lost in the coldest and darkest depths. But Melain was right, on this planet they wouldn’t get very far without liquid assets. Not if they wanted to avoid liquidation of their assets, life. The feeling only last for a short while, soon he remembered something that raised his spirits almost as fast as the feeling of the butterflies in your stomach rising when you are falling off a cliff. Of course, in the latter situation you might have a slight problem, while this could hopefully avoid one.

“Melain,” Frek started, “We need to get into the apartment, right.”
It was a statement, not a question and accordingly Melain nodded affirmative.
“We can be fairly sure they are watching the apartment,” Frek continued, “Hoping we come back to it.”
“Hence the diversion,” Melain said quite logically. Someone had been thinking things through.
“Right,” Frek said with something on his face that might be the start of a grin, “And even if we do create a diversion they’ll probably still leave someone behind. They’re no amateurs like us. We need to get in unseen.”
He had remembered something someone who had been living in that area had told him en-passé.
“You remember that tramp we met when we first got there?” Frek asked.
“Yeah sure,” Melain looked at him non-understandingly. The tramp wasn’t hard to remember. Not a very tall man, with long dirty hair in dyer need of shampoo. It probably had been untouched for so long it had started to lead a life of its own, or at least developed it. There was good chance that if you waved at it, it would wave back. Or at least the little critters that came into existence there would.
Then suddenly she understood. Her face brightened up as a star going supernova. “The tunnels!” she exclaimed, for a moment her cheeks flushed in excitement, “That’s our way in!”
Frek grinned widely, in the same way that tramp would have done upon discovering his hair, or the things living in it, had achieved intelligence and started to whisper words of wisdom, telling him to let it be.

He had told them that most buildings on that block were connected by tunnels, old maintenance shafts for the power conduits, plumbing and that sort of things. They could try to enter the tunnels in the basement of a building on the other side of the block and reach the apartment that way. And unless, of course, they were waiting for them inside they might just pull it off and get what they needed.

“Perhaps we can put a timer on the lights,” Frek said thinking about the matter, “Light up every light in the apartment a few hours after we’re gone. That might get their attention.”
“Let’s not plan to far ahead,” Melain wisely said, “Let’s wait till dark and then get on our way.”

Frek watched Melain as she dozed off on the sacks she had made herself comfortable on and smiled in himself. He sighed and stared at the hole in the hatch. Outside the day slumbered towards its end as the sun kissed the ocean goodnight and crept away beneath the blanket that was the horizon. On the other side of the sky the Tammeron moon made its appearance. It had a dirty yellow colour. He had been told that was because of the atmosphere it was holding. A nasty toxic one. If he would have to hide a ship, behind that moon would be ideal. The toxic atmosphere with its electrical discharges high in its sky would drive any senor insane.

He stood up and stuck his head out off the hatch. It was almost fully dark now. The light cast down by the moon had the colour of old mouldy yellow cheese. The reflection made a person look as if he had a terrible fatal decease. Frek hoped it wasn’t an omen, it was the first time he saw moon at the top of its cycle.
Back inside he carefully shook Melain by the shoulder. “Time to go,” he whispered.

(5067/76404)

[Deleted]

Cyle felt the need to clear his mind as much as possible, and boxing he heard was a good way to do just that. He stood in the holodeck and was waiting for a gymnasium made for boxers to appear.

When it did he headed over to the punching bag, and started to vigerously attack it. After a half hour the sweat was rolling off him and he took a break, moving over to the jump rope. He jumped while his anger slowly built on itself, 'damn starfleet intell. Frek and Lorre probably had no idea what they were getting into'

Cyle stopped jumping and went over and sat down on bench, taking a towel and placing it over his head, he sat for a few moments and thought again

[Deleted]

Melain poked her head out of the basement and looked around, it was very dark, but the ugly Tammaron moon shone it's best. That was not the kind of moon that inspired Romantic ballads. "Wait a moment, do you even know where we are?" she asked Frek, realizing she had no clue how to get back to their block.

"Ummm, I think that Bridge leads to the high end of town, so..." Frek's antenna's did an odd bit of twitching that Melain had learned not to trust.

"You have no idea do you." she accused.

'To be honest, no. I wasn't looking at road signs when we where fleeing for our lives." Frek replied.

"There's an info booth across the street. I'll check it out, you cover me." Melain suggested. Every block or so the Tammaron government had installed a consul complete with a map, a directory, a line to the local police station (usually tapped by the Consortium) and other things any citizen would want. The booths where rarely used, being as on Tammaron no one wanted to stay that long in one place, with only one escape route.

"Right, go ahead." Frek urged, thankfully they had been smart enough not to leave their Consortium supplied phasers in their apartment.

Melain walked up the booth with the air of confidence and capability that any intelligent Tammaron used on the streets. Any posture that could be translated as weak was like a flashing target on one's back.

"Power up." she commanded the booth careful to use a lower voice the her own in case the Consortium was looking for her.

She heard a whirring noise, and then the lights turned n and the consul greeted her with a "Hello Citizen, what can I help you with."

'Pull up a map of the city, tag mark our present position." Melain commanded. The consul whirred again, and a map of the city emerged. "tag mark address 1678 78st, lower end." It was the address of a Dress shop down the street from the apartment, Melain did not want to take any chances. The tag came up, almost 5 kilometers from their present position. Melain pulled out a spare data pad and plugged it into the machine. "Download map, then power down"

"Downloading." The Machine replied. "Have a pleasant evening." The PaDD popped out again. 'Powering down."

"If only everyone on this planet was as courteous as the AIs." Melain commented as she left the both and headed back towards Frek's hiding place.

"Heyy, whas a predy ting like ya doin out alown ona nigh lite dis." a voice called out, a series of drunken laughter followed. 'look guys, ar payers hath been aserd."

Melain tuned around to see three Tammaron 'gentlemen' coming down the street, bottles in hand, coats dragging on th ground. All where obviously not going to remember much the next morning. "I'm armed and I only give one warning." she yelled back, pulling back the bottom of her jacket to reveal the phaser. The last thing she wanted now was to deal with the local drunks, treating alcohol poisoning was an hourly event back at her Tammaron Practice. "Frek, any time now would be great!"

Frek popped up from behind a crate and stepped over to Melain side, holding his phaser. "Go home." He told them flatly.

"Man, it's some ceepy alien ting Haber, les go." one of the Drunks yelped. "it's got like, lasser eyes an stuff. "The Drunks gave a collective sigh, and teetered off in the direction they came.

Once they where out of sight, Melain let out her breath slowly. "Go Home, I can't believe you told them that. They may be boors, but they are not dogs." she let out some nervous laughter. 'We have a long walk ahead of us, let's get going."

(67542/2651)

[jasonfarsir]

OOC: I am sorry it took so long for me to post but I've been very busy over here and didn't have time to post. Please for give me.

IC: While packing for his transfer to the Nevada, Jason was holding a picture of his academy class group photo at the graduation ceremony. Realizing that this is not going to be as easy as being on a training ship cause there is not going to be anyone the help him out, and that he will have to think on his feet. People will be counting him. He realized he would have to know his job like the back of his hand before he even started so he could be prepared for anything.
As he put the picture into a bag of other misalliance things he hoped he would see at least a few of them again sometime in the future. Figuring he won't see all of them again.
He started to put a book in the bag when the door chime ringed. "it's open" He said.
A young lieutenant walked in. "Mister Farsir I'm here to tell you that the Nevada will be arriving soon and can't wait long cause they're on a tight schedule."
"Thank you, I've only got a few more things to pack then I'll be ready, and I'll head to the transporter room immediately,"
"Very well, I will leave you to finish you packing, and good luck,"
"Thank you," Jason said with a polite smile. The lieutenant nodded and walked out.

After packing he headed directly to the transporter room with his the few bags he had. As he entered the door the transporter chief looked startled. "your a little early, I wasn't expecting you for a few more minutes,"
"I was told they were in a hurry so I got here as soon as I could," Jason replied.
"understood, uh you can relax until you need to be beam aboard."

A few minuter later a message came from the Nevada.
=^= This is the Nevada we are ready to beam aboard our crew member.=^=
"Acknowledged Nevada, preparing for transport now," looking over at Jason "sir you may step on to the transport now," Jason walked on to one of the pads. The transport chief put a few commands into the console "energizing,"

On board the Nevada put his things into his quarters then headed directly to the bridge. He walked right up to the captains chair. "Chief Engineer, Ensign Jason Farsir reporting for duty sir,"

<tag who's commanding the ship at the moment,"

[Harrias Jira]

Once the small group had left his office, Harrias flipped his screen back up again. It was about time that he did some research of his own. He spent the best part of a minute inputting enough of his command codes to allow access to the Starfleet personnel database, and then he tapped in a few keywords. Sure enough, a familiar face appeared on the screen seconds later. Jira ran his finger down the screen, flicking through his assignments to find where he had been placed.

USS Victory – CIO
USS Nevada – XO
Medical Leave Granted

The trill frowned, surprised that he was still on medical leave. He scrolled down the file until he arrived at the contact details. He followed the link there, and soon a federation logo appeared on screen to indicate that it was ‘dialling’. Just as he was about to give up, indeed he had one hand on the lid to close the screen, the logo was replaced.

- “Harrias?”
- “One and the same. How are you doing Steve?”
- “It has been a lengthy recovery. You would not believe the number of hobbies I’ve attempted.”
- “I’m sure you’ve enjoyed the relaxation really.”
- “I can’t complain too much I guess.” He smiled.
- “Anyway, I’m afraid that this isn’t just a social call. I need some information, information I think you might be able to get.”
- “Is this about your mission?”
- “You know about our mission?”
- “I keep tabs you know. I can’t tell you anything. It’s too classified.”
- “I can accept that. It wasn’t about that anyway. Commander Thelev and Lorre, Frek and Melain?”
- “Nor that I’m afraid. However, I can give you some good news, although in some ways you might prefer that it wasn’t happening.”
- “Go on.” Harrias replied, worried.
- “I’m coming back to the Nevada. Intelligence have decided that they want someone on the spot, and as I have served on the Nevada before they saw me as the light punch that wouldn’t cause too many ripples.”
- “I see. How far out are you?”
- “I should rendezvous in under two hours.”
- “Were Intelligence going to tell me?”
- “I don’t think so, no.”

Jira swore and shook his head. It was just like intelligence to pull something like this. Admittedly, it was softening the blow by sending Steve, but it was still a dirty play. He took a deep breath.
- “Very well, I’ll see you soon my friend.”

He stood up abruptly and made his way out to the bridge where he retook his centre seat from Lieutenant Commander Stevenson. A few minutes after he did so, he turned as the turbolift opened to see his new chief engineer enter the bridge.
- “Chief Engineer, Ensign Jason Farsir reporting for duty sir.”
- “Welcome to the Nevada Ensign. You come well recommended from the academy. I won’t bore you with anything fancy, just familiarise yourself with the engines and the mission. If you have any problems, Stevenson here was our old CEO, I’m sure she will be more than willing to give you a hand.”

[gracemitchell]

Grace had finished with her appointment. She looked over her schedule and saw that she had no others scheduled for the day. "Now what! How am I going to keep my mind off my vision if that is the only thing I have to do today. I'd go play with Massally, if she were here, but she is having her procedure back at the starbase."

Grace continued to look over reports, noticing that the new CEO had checked in. "Hmmm...! I haven't met him yet. I think I'd better go introduce myself. One never knows when one will be needed!"

Grace left her office and headed to engineering. Along the way she met many crew personnel, all of whom, had a cheerful greeting. Grace exchanged a few words here and there with all of them. "No wonder it always takes me so long to get anywhere. As ship's Counselor, I pretty much know everyone. I can't resist exchanging a few words now and then." Grace thought to herself.

Grace finally arrived at engineering, just after entering she spotted the un-familiar person immediately. Grace walked over to him and said extending her hand "Hello! I'm Grace Mitchell, ship's Counselor. Welcome aboard, Jason. May I call you Jason?"

<tag Jason>

[steve]

Steve sat in the cockpit of his Danube-class runabout, the USS Thames. The ship had been stationed at Deep Space Nine, commissioned in 2374 following the destruction of the USS Shenandoah by the Jem'Hadar near Starbase 257. When the Danube-class runabout was upgraded Steve used his influence with Star Fleet Intel to get his hands on this ship. He had the pick of a number of runabouts but when he saw this one was named after a river from his place of birth he had to have it.

A number of days ago Steve was busy painting a model of his first Starship the USS Victory when the computer on his desk lit up with the screen displaying 'Incoming Transmission'.
Steve activated the transmission and a distorted image appeared on the screen, Steve was surprised, he had not been contacted by Star Fleet Intel since leaving the USS Nevada.
"Steve here"
"Ah Steve" The voice replied, it was his old commanding officer "We have a situation involving to of your former crew mates from the USS Nevada".
"What's happened to the Commander and Doctor?" Steve asked
The Intel officer paused "How do you know that they are working for us.... Never mind, I don't want to know. How much do you know?"
"I have seen the full report, I don't just collect stamps to pass my time while on leave." Steve smiled
"Well the Commander and Doctor are in danger, we have had Intel that the Tammeron Consortium know that there are Starfleet agents working within their ranks and if they dig hard enough it wont taken them long to discover our operation." The man paused "We need you to blow the cobwebs of that runabout you have and meet up with the USS Nevada, you know the ship... and its CO, we need you there to look out for the best interests of Star Fleet Intel."
"Understood" Steve replied "Anything else I need to know?"
"We are expecting a signal from the two officers in a few days letting us know their mission is a success. If we are lucky we will get them out of their with no problems but I am not willing to take that risk. Report to the USS Nevada, I am transmitting your orders ship. Due to security we will not be informing the CO of your arrival, you will have to deal with that when you arrive. Good luck."
The screen went blank and Steve sat back in his seat. It had been a while since he had been on the Nevada but enjoyed his time as the Ships XO. It would be good to see his friends again, due to the situation behind his leaving he didn't get much of a chance to say good bye. Steve stood up and prepared himself for his new mission.

"Computer time until we reach the Nevada?"
"At current speed we will reach the Nevada in two hours and ten minutes"
Steve relaxed, he had done all the reading he could get his hands on about the mission and was also sent a list of things he could have couldn't tell his former CO when he arrived. He made sure the auto pilot was working correctly and shut his eyes. He was just nodding off when the computer spoke.
"Incoming transmission, USS Nevada, Commodore Harrias Jira"
Steve open one eye, this was unexpected he thought the Commodore wasn't going to be informed
"Open a channel" Steve called out

“Harrias?”
“One and the same. How are you doing Steve?”
“It has been a lengthy recovery. You would not believe the number of hobbies I’ve attempted.”
“I’m sure you’ve enjoyed the relaxation really.”
“I can’t complain too much I guess.” He smiled.
“Anyway, I’m afraid that this isn’t just a social call. I need some information, information I think you might be able to get.”
“Is this about your mission?”
“You know about our mission?”
“I keep tabs you know. I can’t tell you anything. It’s too classified.”
“I can accept that. It wasn’t about that anyway. Commander Thelev and Lorre, Frek and Melain?”
“Nor that I’m afraid. However, I can give you some good news, although in some ways you might prefer that it wasn’t happening.”
“Go on.” Harrias replied, worried.
“I’m coming back to the Nevada. Intelligence have decided that they want someone on the spot, and as I have served on the Nevada before they saw me as the light punch that wouldn’t cause too many ripples.”
“I see. How far out are you?”
“I should rendezvous in under two hours.”
“Were Intelligence going to tell me?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
Jira swore and shook his head. It was just like intelligence to pull something like this. Admittedly, it was softening the blow by sending Steve, but it was still a dirty play. He took a deep breath.
“Very well, I’ll see you soon my friend.”
Steve smiled and nodded, the screen went dead and Steve shut his eyes again.

"Approaching the USS Nevada" The computer informed him awakening him from his nap, with all of this medical leave he had gotten use to a cap nap during odd times but this will all have to end now he was back to duty.
Steve tapped a few buttons on his control and hailed the Nevada. The face of Harrias appeared on the screen with a smile
"Sir..." Steve stared, seeing he was being watched by the whole bridge staff he thought it was better not to call his former CO by his first name. "Permission to come onboard"
"Granted" his old friend replied and looked away from the screen "Drop out of warp and bring the ship to a stop, once the runabout is in the bay return to original course." Harrias turned back to Steve "We are coming to a stop, bring your ship in, I will have my XO meet you in the shuttle bay."
"Understood Sir, Steve out".

Steve landed the craft without any problems and when the computer informed him it was clear to exit the ship he did so. As he stepped out he was met by the beaming smile of a young looking woman wearing a red Star fleet uniform. She extended her hand and Steve took it.
"Welcome back to the USS Nevada, Commander. I am Lt. Commander Hannah Stevenson, the ships XO."
"Thank you Commander, its nice to meet the person that has my job."
Hannah looked at him not sure how to take that comment but relaxed when Steve winked at her and continued talking.
"I am sorry we have to meet under this situation.." Steve stopped for a moment, he wasn't sure how much the Commander knew about the 'current situation' but she did say anything so he thought he would just keep going. "... It will be nice to see everyone again".
"I am sure it will" Hannah smiled "I transferred to the ship shortly after you left so we didn't get a chance to meet.
Steve nodded still smiling, it was nice to meet an XO that wasn't on a power trip.
"I have orders to take you up the Commodore's ready room, if you will follow me".
Steve followed the XO bumping into a number of people he knew from his time on the ship on the way, all very surprised to see him.

Steve stepped out onto the Bridge and stopped, looking around and cursed to himself that he every had to leave. It was a lovely ship with a great crew. Steve walked over to the ready room he knew all to well and pressed the panel by the door.
"Enter" he heard a voice call out. He stepped into the room and looked in to the eyes of a friend he hadn't seen in a while.


Off: Just like to say hi to everyone and thanks to Harrias for letting me join you again for this mission. Good simming all

[fthelev]

The moon had risen a few more degrees and was now spreading its light down into the empty streets with a cheesy smile. Frek stared in the direction in which those drunken ‘boors’ disappeared. The shadows provided by the buildings effectively masked the side of the street they were on. The darkness would soon swallow them, only the sound of their staggering footsteps dying out betrayed their fading presence. If they kept drinking like that, or behaving like that, their footsteps weren’t the only things likely to die out. It depended on what they encountered first; a liver turned into pâté, probably with an alcohol percentage that made consumption below the age of sixteen illegal (this is a liberal planet), or another alien carrying a weapon that didn’t like his company being bothered.

“They responded to it,” Frek said with shrug, responding to her remark. He looked at her, she seemed to be somewhat pale, but that was hard to say with the unhealthy shade of pale light that shed down on them. If they kept standing in that light someone was bound to notice them, and really, he didn’t want that unhealthy shade of pale, or in his case blue, to become the permanent colour of his skin. The dead were not known to have good-looking skin with a wholesome tan.
Frek softly put his hand on her shoulder; he could feel her tremble slightly. “Are you sure you’ll alright?” There was concern shimmering in his voice.
With a faint smile Melain looked up. “Yeah, I’m alright,” she said managing almost completely to take the quaver out her voice. She looked down to the PADD with the downloaded map, clenched in her fist. Frek followed her gaze; even a person with the average eyesight of a farseeing bat could see her knuckles were white. For a split second Frek wondered if he should inquire after the general health of the PADD in question as well, it might be slightly crushed.
“We have a long walk ahead of us,” she repeated looking up again. She sounded more firmly now after a couple of good deep breaths. “We really should get going now.”
He nodded and gave her a friendly, reassuring squeeze in the shoulder.

Like the drunks the two Starfleet officers on the run decided to take the side of the street that was hidden in the shadows. For them it was a voluntary choice. It was only the question if the same could be said for the drunks. They did seem to be not entirely stable. From their perspective the tall, illuminated buildings in the distance, showing the way to the modern city centre, must have been swaying to and fro. They already had a few stiff drinks, clearly, and Frek admitted he could use one himself. But this was not the time. One stiff drink, some mindless behaviour and before you could say ‘Alpha Canaris Majoris southern blend continental dark rum’ and you’d be a stiff yourself.

Silently they walked side by side through the dark streets, carefully trying to keep their silent tread unheard. Occasionally Melain would shield the PADD and activate it to verify their position.
“How far did you say it was?” Frek asked when she checked the map again.
“Five kilometres,” Melain said, “Only one and a half to go, we are almost there.”
Frek grimaced and groaned silently. The five kilometres seemed more like fifty. It felt as if they had been walking for ages. And actually that wasn’t far from the truth. They had been progressing slowly, making an effort to remain unseen. And so far they had succeeded. A couple of times they had been passed by a hoovercar. They couldn’t be sure if the occupants were looking for them or not, but this was not the best of times to test that. So far they had managed to duck away into an alley or some portal and avoid detection.

If you think the older, ill-maintained parts of Isanti, the city, looked bad during daytime, it was most certainly worth in the dark. Probably even better without a moon. As street lights didn’t seem to be a priority in these parts you could say it was pretty dark. And here, that could be considered a good thing. It perfectly well hid the cracks in the walls of the surrounding houses, shops, offices and places of pleasure. And what you can’t see can’t look bad. It was not that there weren’t street lights, no, they were just low on the priority list of the city cleaning. If they were being cleaned once every hundred years it could be considered a genuine miracle that would be accepted without any hesitance by any self-respecting religion in this quadrant.

“Almost there,” Melain whispered softly. She had recognized some of the silhouettes of the buildings near the apartment they had been granted. “In there.”
She gestured to an alley.
“Staying in the dark paid off,” Frek grinned as he followed her into the alley. Perhaps he should have paid more attention himself. With a smack he slammed into a blind wall.
The alley had a dead end.

Frek muttered in the dark, and they certainly weren’t words of love. With considerable effort managing to keep his voice down he uttered some words most parents didn’t teach their kids.
“Come on!” Melain whispered impatiently, kept in oblivion by the dark of Frek’s run in.
“I’m coming,” Frek hissed back, holding his nose with his hand.
Standing next to her they stared at the side-door of the dress shop. It was hardly visible, a dark rectangle in a dark wall.
“Thank the prophets we are here,” she muttered to her right. It was more that she could feel Frek standing next her than that she could see him. “How do we get in?”
That seemed to be a valid question. “Perhaps we can force it,” Frek suggested.
“And if it has an alarm?” Melain asked.
Frek shrugged invisible to her. “You have a better idea?”
He stretched his hand out to touch the door, hoping to get an impression of its strength. His hand encountered the doorknob. Frek turned it and wanted to shake the door back and forth. But much to his surprise it opened without even making the softest squeak.
“It’s open!”
“A trap?” Melain said it, but it went to both their minds. Frek could feel his mouth dry. What choice did they have? Turn around and start over again? Looking for another building that could grant them access?
He pushed the door open, slowly and in stages, a bit further every time. In between listening for a sound.
Nothing.

One after another they slipped in. Slowly Frek closed the door behind them. The only sound the soft click of the lock falling back in position. If it was dark outside, this could be considered pitch-black. The only thing he could hear was breathing. It must have be his own, or else Melain’s.
“Flick the PADD on and off,” he whispered to Melain. His heart was making more beats per minute than the number one hit of the moment in the Federation music charts.
For only a nano-second the room was lit by the dim light spread by the PADD. In that short period he couldn’t see much. He only noticed four blind, surprisingly clean walls and a door in one of them on the other side. Other wise it seemed empty.
“Computer, lights, dimmed.” It seemed to work. A soft glow filled the room.
Frek sighed in relief. For a moment he had really expected things to go bump in the night.
That was of course when the something rose in the corner of the room.
It literary had a bump. On his back.

The heart that had been beating so fast a few moments ago now seemed to have come to a complete halt. After it prolapsed a couple of metres that is. Doctors could say what they want, but it was physically possible. He just felt it happen. He didn’t know how Melain reacted, for a moment he just simply froze. Oblivious to what was happening around him.
When he got his senses back after a second the figure had disappeared, leaping out, leaving the door half opened behind him.

“One of the tramps,” Frek realized with trembling knees. He closed the door again. “He must have cracked that door ages ago.”
Later, looking back on the whole event, he would say the tramp resembled one of the camels he had seen in Egypt when he had been on Earth for those seminars a while ago.

Melain nodded and looked around. She too seemed to have regained control over her voice and limbs again.
“This must be the storage room,” she said and picked up a dress from rack and examined it. “They seem to have nice stuff here.”
“If we survive this we’ll go shopping and I’ll get you one,” Frek promised, “But this is hardly the time to admire dresses.”
On his command the computer dimmed the lights some more, until it hardly spread any light.
Carefully to avoid another surprise he opened the other door. It showed a small corridor with two doors coming out into it on the left side. At the far end there was a staircase leading down. Hopefully to the basement and the connecting tunnels. And hopefully it would hold their weight, because by the look of it, it didn’t seem to be built to support anything more than a rodent.

(6663/78000)

[Deleted]

Melain was still shaken from her encounter with the drunks when the hump backed shape rose up in the dim light. She stiffled a yelp and her hand instinctivly reached for her phaser. The figure glanced at them, two white focusles eyes peering through a mass of tangled hair and rags, it then turned and left.

“One of the tramps,” Frek broke the silence, and Melain felt a little more secure.

“This must be the storage room,” Melain commented, trying to settle herself down again. She picked up a dress from rack and examined it. “They seem to have nice stuff here.” This was very true. Of course she was not exactly a collector of clothes, oh she had some dresses and other civilian wear back at the Nevada, but a Starfleet officer did not exactly get to choose what they wore everyday, on fact the last time she wore a dress was five weeks ago back at Hannah's birthday party, and before that she could suposed it was on her trip to Bajor with Frek. Now that had been a very different trip then this.

“If we survive this we’ll go shopping and I’ll get you one,” Frek replied, “But this is hardly the time to admire dresses.”

"I'll hold you to that." Melain replied, knowing she would probably forget. "I think we should go that way." she pointed to a hall off to the left back corner of the store. Frek led, and she followed.

The stairs looked rickity, and unused, but they did not have a choice. 'You first." Melain insisted.

"Why?" Frek asked.

"Because if you get hurt, I can help you. If I get hurt who is going to hel me?" Melain asked, granted if either o them was going to hurt themselves it would be Frek.

Frek seemed to agree, or at least understand her logic. He placed a foot on the first step and slowly settles his weight. The Stair creaked, but held. It was slo painful going down the steps, but they made it without incident. "Which way now?' Frek asked as they reached the bottom.

"This must be some other store room or the celler, chances are there is a door we need to open that will lead to the tunnels." Melain replied, she turned the PaDD on and it light up the room in a dull blueish light. "There." she pointed to a short door in the corner. The lock was old, and would most likely break easily.

"Right, stand back." Frek took out his phaser and in moments the lock was cut and the door was swung open.

Melain followed Frek, who's head narrowly missed the top of the door, his antenna bending backwards to avoid contact. "Now right, after about... seventy five feet we should find another door that will lead to the apartment complex." She flet her shoes fill with stagnent water and felt like retching. it was not a sewer tunnel, but apparently it was not water tight. The walls where coverd with wiring and piping linkeg together with cobwebs and a thick layer of dust and occasionaly mud.

(3174/68065)