Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

R.R.W. Alth'Indor 22:42 Day 2

    Vardok turned his attention back from assessing to asking.
    "So that's your background, or at least what you claim to be your background. But you still haven't told me what happened in here.
    Prove to me that you didn't kill General S'Teveirr." Eviess shook her head and blinked rapidly, trying to get her mind focused in this nightmare.
    "He is my hru'diranov,* I didn't kill him!" How many times do I have to tell you that!" Vardok decided to press her harder, to try and break her will down, or get her to slip if she was lying.
    "Not even for Mnhei'sahe? Because he failed, and he wanted you to spare him from life as a failure? Or because he was a disgrace to your family?
    How do I know that what you have told me is true? That you really displayed such weakness and cowardice in refusing to continue to be a warrior for the Empire. In leaving your family. In living so selfishly! If you had done so, any true patriotic family would have had you killed as a blemish to their face." I hate this. I hate interrogations. Especially when the prisoner is likely a victim. But the evidence is too condemning to just let her go. Too many lives depend on this. I need answers. And this is the only way to get them right now.
    S'ren had heard that it was different when he was a small child, before Romulus was destroyed. That all Romulans lived by Mnhei'sahe faithfully. But now some had become cold, rude, without the same level of national pride, cynical, distant. Selfish in a desperate attempt at self preservation. They felt that they lost face along with their home-world. The Republic had given up on the old ways. They didn't live for the good of the Empire. They tried to treat each other with genuine respect. The destruction of the home-world struck all Romulans to their core. They would never be the same. And it is impossible to tell who believes in national honor, and who just wants to get by. Nora'dex strikes me as someone who just wants to look out for himself. But General S'Teveirr didn't. He seemed like a very traditional Romulan. Is his granddaughter the same? Or is she lying? And if so, why? It doesn't seem honorable. But perhaps it is to maintain a greater honor? If she did it out of duty, then is she hiding others who were involved?
    "Tell me, Eviess. Why would a loyal Romulan family let an insult to the Romulan way of life like you exist? Someone killed him. And you were here at exactly the right time. Perhaps you wanted to atone for your own weakness? Or maybe you were too weak to do it, or maybe I should stop asking an lhonae* like you about an act that took bravery? I hate this. How can I do this to her? No! Don't let her get to you. It could all be an act. If it isn't, then this will help me find who really is responsible for this. You need facts, not gut feelings. Useful as those are. I have to have evidence. Eviess S'Teveirr was crying now. It was too much for anyone to bear. Doctor T'nai intervened here. His usually calm nature had stirred to anger.
    "Vardok that's enough! I don't think she did it. Can't you see she's had enough? Leave her alone." He was almost shouting. S'ren was taken aback by this. Such anger at him from his friend was startling. But the doctor had forgotten something. Today, Vardok was a Commander of the Imperial Warbird Alth'Indor. And he was questioning a prisoner about the murder of a commanding officer.
    "Silence T'nai. Remember your place. I will have order. And I will have answers." He held T'nai's eyes with a haughty, displeased look for several moments. He hoped that his friend would understand that this was to save lives. Then he turned back to the nurse. I plaaere**** this! I hate it! And yet... why do I feel so... powerful, doing it? This is everything I have lived my entire life trying to stop. Why does some part of me enjoy this? His adrenaline was pumping again. He would push until he knew what he needed to. He would fight for justice. Even if he had to take a step closer to becoming what he hated most.
    "Did. You. Kill. Him?" This darkness, this anger, it fueled him. He had felt it before. But he tried to push that memory down. To ignore the pain that went with it. I'm better than this. I can't become like them. But I can't punish the innocent and the guilty. I need to find out who did this.
    "I didn't kill him! I love him! And I am not an Ihonae because I care about the lives of others!" Vardok didn't respond immediately. He took several deep, slow breathes. He knew that he had to remain in control of himself. This is getting us no where. I need to try a different tactic. One where I can think straight.... And escape this rage.
    "What happened here, today? Tell me everything. Why were you in sickbay? What did you see? Hear? Say? Leave nothing out." Eviess was glad to have the questioning move away from a personal attack on her.
    "I tried to stay away from him. I didn't want to make anyone suspicious that we were anything other than what we were pretending to be. I tried to focus on watching the Latrunculo games. But my mind was on my grandfather. So I came down here to-" S'ren interrupted here.
    "What time did you leave?" I have to get her to forget what lie she's already told and make up another one, if she's lying.
    "I don't know what time I left. I wasn't watching the chronometer. So I came down to sickbay to see him. I knew that he was unconscious, but I just wanted to be near him. So I came in here and said 'hello' to the nurse on duty. I asked if I could visit with him, the nurse said 'yes,' so I pulled up a chair next to his bed and sat down. I couldn't stand to see him like that, hooked up to all the medical devices. I knew he was old, and that he didn't have many years left even if it hadn't been for this. I knew how weak he was. I knew his condition was very serious. And I knew that he was going to die. I don't know how, I just knew.
    So I walked to the other side of sickbay to cry. I know it sounds silly, but I didn't want him to hear me. I've heard that sometimes someone who is unconscious can hear you. I didn't want to upset him... or make him feel ashamed of me.
    Then his biofunction monitor wailed, telling me that he had flatlined. I ran over to his bed. Doctor T'nai, the nurse, and I tried to revive him. But he was too far gone. He had gone to Vorta Vor.*****
    I didn't see anyone or anything. All I knew was that one minute I was crying, and the next minute he had been murdered." Vardok had calmed down again. The anger had just drained out of him. He didn't know if he should believe her and be angry with the universe, or if she was lying and he had to drag the truth out of her. His mind swung back to "believe her."  You know what it's like. To lose everyone. To have your people betray you. Don't go there! Don't take sides without knowing all the facts. You've got to find out who did this so that they can't do it again." He turned to nurse Vreenak.
    "What did you see? Tell me your side of the story." The nurse collected her thoughts and replied.
    "Well, I didn't see anything useful. Nurse Neral, I mean nurse S'Teveirr, came into sickbay and asked if she could see the Centurion. I told her 'yes, but remember to be quiet and not to upse- oh that's right, you know the drill. Go right on over.' She pulled a chair over, and I went back to reading the novel I had downloaded. I had checked on the Centurion just a couple minutes ago, and since nurse S'Teveirr was watching our only patient, I felt that it would be alright to keep reading. I thought I heard crying, so I looked up and I saw Ner- S'Teveirr on the far side of sickbay, looking very upset. So I started to walk over to her. I was about to ask her if she was okay and if she wanted to talk about it, but the Centurion's biofunction monitor went off. We all ran over to try to help him after that, with the doctor getting there seconds behind us. The patient had that dagger through his heart, and he had been disconnected from several of the machines. We tried to bring him back, but as you know, sir, we were unable to revive him." Commander S'ren needed useful information, not the same story, with the same key information missing, over and over again.
   
    Just then, the forcefield over the door dropped, and a small pair of hands gripped the insides of the sliding doors and begun to pull them open. The security team raised their disruptors, ready to attack a possible threat. Vardok turned his full attention to the door.
    "Don't fire until we're sure it's not a friendly. It could be the guards we left outside."
    The doors opened further, revealing Nala's face. One of the security team assigned to guard the corridor called in.
    "Sorry to scare you sir." The security forces inside sickbay lowered their disruptors.  Vardok ran over and helped her force the doors the rest of the way open.
    "Don't worry about it, soldier. Just comm first next time." He could see a disruptor rifle resting against a bulkhead just outside the doors. Nala, observing that there was no immediate danger inside, picked up the weapon, set it against the inside bulkhead, and turned her attention to Commander S'ren.  
    "Are you alright Vardok? What happened?" She said, seeing everyone standing around, looking tense and tired. "Why is nothing working? He rubbed his temples. He could feel his recent lack of sleep acutely.
    "I'm fine, Nala, thank you. Is the situation under control in the mess hall? How much do you know about what's happened since I left?" She straightened her Imperial harness.
    "Nora'dex is upset, but fine. I don't know anything, besides the fact that we just dropped out of warp several minutes ago and the turbolifts and doors aren't working now. And why does the forcefield work when the doors are offline? Vardok took a deep breath.  
    "Good. Okay, time to bring you up to speed. Long story short, the Centurion, who is really a General, was murdered right after I left the tournament.
    Nurse 'Neral' is actually from the family S'Teveirr, the same family as the the General.
    Nothing is working, including faster than light, because a virus was uploaded to our systems from the mess hall, a minute after nurse S'Teveirr got here, supposedly to visit with the General. And that virus is making investigating the murder very difficult.
    The two Reman guards actually worked for the General. But they are now missing. And a recorded security footage loop of them standing in the mess hall was left playing after they left. Which means that they, nurse S'Teveirr, and Nora'dex, are all potential suspects." He paused, and then motioned to the door.
    "I believe that the forcefields are on a separate subsystem." She just listened quietly until he finished.
    "Well, it sounds like you've got your hands full with your investigation. We've got to find those Remans. Dealing with unchecked hostiles has to be a top priority. I'll handle that, you keep questioning the suspects who we know the locations of. That is, if you approve?" Vardok thought for a few seconds before replying.
    "Yes. That is a good plan. Only, be careful." No sooner than she got permission, Nala commed security.
    "Security. This is Subcommander Telth'aven. Are your internal sensors working"
    "No, sir."
    "Then assemble every crew member who can hold a disruptor. We're going to begin a ship-wide search. I want an unbroken line of Romulans searching every deck, every jefferies tube, every corridor, every maintenance hatch, every room, and every crate on this ship. Moving from one end of the Alth'Indor to the other. I want all decks covered simultaneously. Leave no escape options, no hiding places. We're going to search this ship, and we're going to do it right."
    "But, Subcommander, that will take hours. And it could be extremely dangerous to those conducting the operation."
    "I know the risk, which is why I will be leading the search on this deck, the site of the murder, and therefore the most dangerous place to be. Get those teams ready. You'll need to get the crew members out of the mess hall to assist with the search. Have Centurion D'Avek hold Commander Nora'dex there, by listening to him or by pinning him to the ground if he has to. Subcommander Nala out.
    "You two." She said, pointing to two of the security team in sickbay. "Come with me. We've got some Remans to find." And with that she picked up her disruptor rifle and lead her small team out to begin the hunt in earnest. Vardok called after her as she jogged out the door.
    "Be careful, Nala, these people are very dangerous. That virus is top military grade, which means they are too." She turned just long enough to answer.
    "I will be. I suggest you have a 'talk' with Nora'dex."
    "I just have to finish up down here first. Good daendle'le.******"
    "You too Vardok." She said as she left. I hope she'll be alright, those Remans are the personal bodyguards of a General, and from a very powerful family at that. That means they're very dangerous. Don't let yourself get caught up in fear. Focus on your duty. I need answers, and I'm not getting them. I need a different method. Think, Vardok, what else can I investigate? The computers being down really complicates things. I wish I could have T'nai perform a DNA scan of that dagger. Oh well, I'll just have to do this the old fashioned w- THE DAGGER! Of course, it's evidence too. The only evidence that doesn't lie and doesn't depend on the computers working.
    Vardok walked over to the General's body and took some pictures of the gruesome scene with his PADD from different angles. Then he took a piece of clean cloth to preserve any DNA without adding his own, gripped the handle of the dagger with the cloth between his skin and the evidence, and pulled the blade from the corpse. It was a fine weapon, with a silver plated talon for a pommel, and feathered wings coated in the same metal for cross-guards. It was stained with green blood. He had seen bloodied blades before, but it was still rather disconcerting. Then he saw the emblem and he gasped. The S'Teveirr family crest. The same mark that both of the S'Teveirrs have on their arms. This... this doesn't look good for Eviess.
    He walked back over to the nurse, filthy dagger in cloth-covered hand, and showed it to her.
    "Perhaps you would like to explain THIS!" One of the security team spoke up.
    "Commander, anyone could have replicated that." But S'ren had already spotted something his Lieutenant had not.
    "Do you see this? No? Look closer. The silver plating on the cross-guard and pommel are tarnished. That means it's an old blade, not recently replicated." T'nai had a theory as well.
    "Vardok, that weapon could have been stolen. Using someone else's weapon to incriminate them is one of the oldest tricks in the book. Besides, why would you use a weapon that would inherently incriminate you?" S'ren had already considered this however.
    "Yes, but it still doesn't look good.
    How about it, nurse S'Teveirr? What do you know about this dagger?" If she was trying to hide something, she didn't appear to be.
    "Please... put it away. I hate to see his blood dripping from it like that." Vardok obliged her, setting the dagger down on a medical supply table.
    "Thank you. That is one of our S'Teveirr family daggers, we have dozens like it. They were made for everyone in, or who serves, the family. I don't know whose dagger that is. Mine was in my quarters on my grandfather's ship. I think my grandfather had his with him when we took the escape pod. His guards had theirs too I think." Great. This doesn't prove, or even suggest, anything. I think it's time to go have a talk with Commander Nora'dex.
     




OOC
* hru'diranov = grandfather
* Mnhei'sahe = (short answer) essentially honor, face, pride, duty, loyalty, appearances, manners, a form of Romulan chivalry of sorts, the dignified way of doing things. (long answer)

Spoiler:

*** lhonae = coward
**** plaaere = hate
***** Vorta Vor = Romulan/Vulcan Heaven, afterlife
****** daendle'le = luck
End OOC



OOC
J-red, speak for yourself, I still use (improved) small arms phasers extensively because they make the bad-guy just as dead as a projectile weapon (I use Quantum phasers to deal with Borg) while having a FAR greater number of lethal shots than can be carried with a projectile weapon in just one power-pack. But bolt weapons have their place too of course. Such as certain environments, or stealth missions. Plus, recoil keeps things interesting.

Mirage: Phasers are hardly lacking in power. ONE shot from a phaser on the correct setting can vaporize a hostile. And set to overload (thereby using all of it's power) a phaser pistol from The Original Series era can destroy at least one entire deck of a Constitution class ship. (289 meter long ship.)
Also, I hope that you don't have the real PCG fighting Phoenix Engineering, as we aren't actually at war with you... yet.
OOC

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

[OOC] @ Dino - Well, obviously, you may use whatever you weapons you wish to, however, most away teams and Starquest units will utilize Halo-esque bolt weapons. And I feel like a bolt rifle would probably be better equipped to deal with Borg. (Although when tangling with the Borg, J-red tends to use the Star Blade while yelling "Adapt to this!" at the top of his lungs. Also, I feel like Phasers would be better suited to stealth missions. Much less noise and mess.

@ PXR - Also, I don't think it would be possible to tell that the weapons fire was PCG... Federation uses phasers as well as the PCG, and as I stated, it would be much more likely that the PCG would utilize bolt weapons. [/End OOC]

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC @Everyone: Thanks for the info all. It will be changed soon. Wait, J-red, if its bolt weaoons, they can be recognized right? And Dino, we want to profit from SoL first. And then we'll turn around and backstab you.

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC I have to agree with Dino on this one- Phasers are pretty much better overall, at least as a sidearm (a main combat weapon.... well, that's much more debatable*. I personally always imagined we used a combo of the two, switching between them as it suited us).

*Fun fact: this site has spellcheck! I just learned that now...

END OOC

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

[OOC] @ PXR - I suppose you could trace them to the PCG if you found some of the ammo casings, but I don't think you could tell that they were PCG just from weapons signatures. [/End OOC]

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

As Smythe is dragged to the brig, Turson turns to Johnnyred.

"I pray that we at least come through this alive. Victory is debatable. But I'll give it everything I've got! Permission to depart and prepare the Liberty for warp...and for battle."

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

"Permission granted. Though stand at the ready. I don't entirely trust the PXE fellows."

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

OOC
I had hoped to actually finish writing this today, but oh well. I just couldn't get it done. I've been writing from about 5 or 6 in the evening until 2:20 in the morning, and I still have several mini chapters to write, and all of this to review before posting. Oh well. Tomorrow then.
End OOC




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 22:53 Day 2

    The intercom beeped twice before a message played across the entire ship.
    "This is the bridge. All hands, report for briefing to section D-one-one-nine immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat, all hands, report for briefing to section D-one-one-nine immediately. Centurion D'Avek, please continue attending to the needs of Commander Nora'dex."
    Just then red lights began to flash on the walls.
    "Mneani* nhyrh.** Mneani nhyrh." The crew jumped up from their seats and ran to the exit, leaving their food and conversations behind.
    Nora'dex and D'Avek both caught snatches of conversation.
    "Do you think it's the enemy?"
    "No, we would have been called to battle stations."
    "This door is jammed, we'll have to pry it open. Help me with this."
    "Could it be the Tal Shiar?"
    "I hope not! Elements protect us if it is!"
    "What do you think is going on?"
    "Could have something to do with the lights being on the fritz."
    "I hope the singularity core is stable!" And as quickly as they had been called to duty, the nervous crew were out the door and heading for the fore of the ship.
    Commander Nora'dex turned to Centurion D'Avek.
    "Do you know what is going on? This is all most irregular. You don't think that it's the enemy fleet, do you, Centurion? If one of our finest boarder patrol fleets could not stop them, than one ship certainly can't." D'Avek shook his head no.
    "I don't think it's Lloannen'galae*** and their ilk. I think that something has gone wrong on this ship." I wish it WAS the SoL though. I need to get his attention off of this and onto himself again. "So how do you think the Twelfth would handle lloann'mhrahel**** in Imperial space?" He hoped he wasn't taking it too far, but he thought he could play off of the Commander's fear and pride all at once and possibly learn something. It appeared that he was right.
    "The Twelfth Fleet is far to powerful, and too cunning, for lloann'mhrahel. They would send in an expendable force of ships crewed by recruits and under-performing personnel. They would let the enemy pound them in to dust, and then pursue them as they fled. They would let them think that they had won. And then decloak their true forces in a flanking position, having used the lesser fleet to weaken and herd them into exactly the position of their defeat.
    I have not seen the Twelfth in years, but I have heard rumors of massive warships that are beyond top-secret. With Borg enhanced weapons and shields, and Neutronium alloy armor. Of course it is all just hearsay, they likely have something far better."
    Whether any of this was based in reality, or just the daydreaming of a Romulan so desperate for recognition that he would say anything, D'Avek didn't know. But it could be useful information none-the-less.      




Undisclosed Location: {Project Ra'kholh*****} 23:00 Day 2

    Admiral Telth'Alore sat in the middle chair of a command center of some kind. Her elbows were planted on the arm rests of her chair, her fingers touching and held upright, pyramid style. This has taken far too long. We should have been ready last night. I hope we have enough time left before the storm.
    "Subcommander, status?" She hadn't slept much in the past twenty-four hours, but that didn't prevent her from keeping her own uniform spotless. She had earned her rank. And she had done it on her own two feet. She believed that if she could polish her own boots as a Uhlan, then she could just as well polish them as an Admiral. She wasn't one to have others do things for her that she could do herself. And right now, she was doing for herself. She had sent a task-force across the Neutral Zone, into Imperial space, to take part in an assault on the Imperial capital. She had stuck her neck out this far, she might as well go the whole nine yards and make the final preparations to her new super-weapon without informing the Senate, much less getting its approval.
    "Sir, Dual-layer regenerative shielding matrix is operating at ninety-six percent capacity. The EPS conduits can't give it any more power without diverting it from the primary weapon, which is ready to fire when ready. The advanced cloak is active, and we have shielding and use of the primary weapon system while remaining cloaked, as per design requirements. Dual singularity cores are both running at eighty-seven percent efficiency and ninety percent maximum sustainable power output, with overcharging possible at a cost to efficiency. All other systems are within acceptable parameters.
    She only nodded and said,
    "Good. Continue as planned." Maybe we have a fighting chance after all.




Unknown Location. Audio Only Communication Between Unknown Romulan Individuals. 22:27 Day 2

    A male voice speaks.
    "I hope you have more evidence than last time. You are beginning to try my patience."
    The same woman's voice as before is heard replying.
    "Sir, Unit Serial Number two-six-six-seven-five-three-dash-four-nine-oh is indeed unstable. I am transmitting evidence now. Included are medical records on the subject, including recent serotonin levels, psych tests, sleep records, the doctor's evaluation, replicator records, and much more. I am also sending you subject's personal logs from the past six months, as well as the logs from several senior crew members. You will find that subject has become erratically aggressive, depressed, withdrawn, and has often been under-performing lately. I have also included holodeck activity from the past three months, and musical choices from the past seven months. You will find that subject is indeed acting outside of normal observed levels. I recommend moving to decommission, or at least reevaluate subject immediately in case of possible betrayal." The line is silent for several minutes before the male voice finally responds.
    "This is... disturbing. You may be faking this. But you have collected a considerable amount of evidence. Evidence that I can authenticate with other agents. If you are lying, your life is forfeit, and I do not believe you are foolish enough to risk using such easily investigated evidence. And know that it will be investigated. But if the information you have presented is true... then we could be dealing with a very difficult situation." The female voice sounds almost pleased with her success.
    "I take it you wish me to continue to obverse, and prevent any possible damage before it takes place?" The male voice replies, but does not sound pleased.
    "You are only a simple field agent. Subject is a deep-cover specialist. It is not for you to decide such weighty matters as which agents will live and which will die, or how to proceed with such a potentially catastrophic situation. Remember your place. I will contact you again when I have talked with my superiors. In the meantime, observe only. If you do otherwise, you had better be very careful, you are treading a very thin wire, Agent."
    The female voice replies after a minute, less proud, but far from humble and servile.
    "Yes sir. I will not disappoint you."      




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Forward Corridors 22:58 Day 2

    Armory officers unlocked the ship's weapons cabinets and handed out disruptor carbines to the lines of waiting crew members on every deck. Romulans checked and doubled-checked the charge levels on their weapons out of habit; and to give them something to do other than think about the danger that they were about to face while they waited for the order to begin the tedious room by room, corridor by corridor search of the entire ship from stem to stern.    
    Then the ship's lights went out; their subsystem effected by the virus. For a moment, the only light came from the eerie, flashing glare of the red alert system. Then weapon-mound tac-lights flicked on one by one, illuminating the corridors with beams of white light.
    Nala and her two security team members arrived at the fore end of the (sickbay level) deck. The Centurion in charge of that deck's tactical team turned to her.
    "Sir, what are your orders?" He said with a salute. She took another power pack from the armory and placed it in one of her belt pouches.
    "Can you patch me through to the teams on all decks?" The Centurion took out his PADD, and tapped at the screen for a moment. Then he nodded to her in the affirmative. She cleared her throat.
    "Alright Romulans. We've got a pair of hostile Remans on-board. They are armed, well trained, and extremely dangerous.
    The security feeds showed them in the mess hall when they were in fact somewhere else on the ship. That, combined with the virus which was uploaded from the mess hall, which has fried our internal sensors, and the murder of the Centurion in sickbay, are very strong indicators that they have already taken aggressive action against us.
    We need to bring them in, alive if possible. Commander S'ren needs answers; so we're going to capture the people who have them. I want half of your disruptors set to 'heavy stun,' and the other half set to 'kill.' If you see them, you fire a stun blast at them on sight; no questions, no negotiations, unless they have hostages. If they don't go down on the 'stun' setting, hit them with one shot at 'kill' if you can. If they're still up after that, everyone who has line-of-sight on them fires at 'vaporize.' They're not worth our lives.
    We're going to be simultaneously searching every deck on this ship. That way we'll leave them nowhere to hide. I want nothing left unchecked. Corridors, cabinets, crates, jefferies tubes, maintenance hatches, turbolift shafts, rooms, ventilation systems, everything. Every minute that they are on the loose is another minute that lives are in danger.
    Understood? Any questions?" A Lieutenant raised his hand.
    "Sir, how can we conduct this search effectively with so many systems offline? We were barely able to get down here with doors closed and the turbolifts offline." Nala sighed. Have we really become so helpless without technology? What happened to self-sufficiency?
    "Then we do it the old-fashioned way, with our own two hands and feet. Anyone else?" I don't have time for foolish questions, but I need to make sure that they understand, their lives depend on doing this right. A Uhlan called out next.
    "Commander, they're Imperial agents, what's to keep them from setting a booby-trap and killing us all?"
    "That's Subcommander. And we're Imperial too right now, don't forget that. And as to what's going to keep them from rigging one of our own torpedoes from sending us all to Areinnye?****** Nothing but our wits. We should set our tricorders to monitor for explosives though. Anyone else?" A Sublieutenant raised her hand.
    "Sir, should we beam in more crew members from the rest of the fleet to help in the search?" Nala checked her personal chronometer. We're losing valuable time.
    "No, our shields are still online, somehow. Although a ship's transporters can beam through its own shields via pinprick holes created in them intentionally to allow use of the transporters, most enemy transporters, much less personal transporters, can't get through a ship's shields when the microscopic shield openings are closed when not in use. That means that unless they used our transporter system, they are still on this ship. If we open our shields to beam more personnel over, we open a door off this ship for them to use.
    Besides, you know this ship, you live here, the other crews don't. Useful as the Romulan-power would be, I think they might just get in the way.
    We need to get moving, was there anything else we haven't covered?" The Centurion spoke up.
    "Subcommander, what if they have personal site-to-site transporter tech? How do we stop them from just waiting until we've cleared half of the ship and transporting to the cleared half?" Now there's someone thinking on their feet. I wonder if Vardok thought of that? Should I comm him? No, we don't have any evidence to support it yet.
    "Good question. You make a valid point. Since the virus has taken the ship's transporter inhibitors offline, we'll need to set up mobile transporter inhibitors throughout the ship as we clear it. I'll leave you in charge of that. Let me know if you think of anything else." The Centurion had another idea.
    "Sir, if they're still working, I suggest we use the corridor forcefields to further restrict enemy movement." Nala smiled. We can do this.
    "Another good idea. Ever considered working at the strategics division?
    We'll raise every forcefield that we can on every deck, and only drop them one at a time as we clear each section. Any other ideas? No? Then let's move out.
    Set tricorders to scan for Remans, no offense to those Reman crew members present.
    All decks, let the hunt begin."
    The security forces shouldered their disruptors, deactivated the safeties, and moved carefully along the ship's corridors. Their tricorders were set to look for Reman life-signs and explosives.
    As they reached each room or access hatch, they wrenched the malfunctioning doors open with a pry bar and stormed in, disruptors trained and ready to fire. But their search was so far unsuccessful.
    Nala oversaw everything on her deck, and kept close tabs on the progress of all the other teams.

    "Okay, set up that transport inhibitor here. No, a meter to your port. Good.

    Scan that room for explosives before you pry that door open! Don't get sloppy.

    Deck five team, you're lagging behind. You need to stay with the other teams to clear the ship properly.

    Alright, three, two, one, GO! GO! GO!

    Room clear, let's move on to the next.

    Raise Junction Alpha-three forcefield. Let's keep moving, we've got a lot of ground to cover."

    Nala was a very effective officer, when her mind was occupied with her work. But when the danger past, when the smoke cleared and she was off-duty, that's when she fell prey to Romulan Ale. But now she was in constant danger. She didn't like that, she wasn't an adrenaline junkie, but it kept her mind from going back to the pain that had never healed.





R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall Corridor 23:02 Day 2
     
    Vardok instructed the two security officers that he had taken with him from sickbay to wait with nurse S'Teveirr in the corridor. He had left the other two guards down at sickbay as it was a vital area of the ship and needed to be protected.
    "Hold her here. I'm going to go have a talk with our 'friend.' Be ready in case things go south in there." Interrogating Nora'dex is going to be a lot less painful than interrogating the nurse. I might actually enjoy some of this. No! Don't take pleasure in this. That's what they do.... I wonder how the task force is doing now? Have they made it to the rendezvous point safely? I've got my own problems.
    Commander S'ren gripped both halves of the closed doors, pulled them apart, and stepping into the room.
    Commander Nora'dex and Centurion D'Avek were seated across from each other at a table, the former talking and the latter listening. They were the only ones in the mess hall besides Vardok. Plates of now cold food covered the other tables in the room. D'Avek looked up and greeted his Commander.
    "Vardok! It's good to see you're alright." The first officer said standing. "What happened to the Centurion? Have you found-" But Vardok interrupted.
    "Good to see you too D'Avek. I'll answer all of your questions later. Right now, I need to have a talk with the good Commander." D'Avek stepped back to give his CO some room. He could tell by S'ren's voice that he was deadly serious. Man, I don't envy Nora'dex right now.
    Vardok walked up the rest of the way to the table and sat down in D'Avek's seat. Commander Nora'dex looked pleased to see him. He hadn't yet figured out that the feeling was not mutual.
    "Commander S'ryn! How good to see you again! What happened? You left before the tournament was properly over. I was looking forward to the acknowledgement of the champion and runners up! And now the power seems to be offline and everyone ran out in the middle of dinner, and no one knows why we are at red alert. What is happening on this ship? What went wrong." Vardok was ready to play the scare and deceit game now. He knew that Nora'dex was either a coward, or good at pretending to be one, something no sane Romulan would do unless they had a very good reason.
    "You. Already. Know. Don't you? Don't you!" Nora'dex looked completely surprised. If it was all deception, then the Imperial Commander was quite skilled at giving stupidly confused looks.
    "I'm sorry Commander S'ryn. I have no idea what you're talking about. What is going on? What happe-." Vardok was going to push him hard. He wasn't willing to dance around the issue with lies for an hour before they even breached the subject.
    "You can stop pretending you don't know now. We know your part in General S'Teveirr's murder. How you wanted him to die so that he couldn't tell anyone about your failure." I'm going out on a limb here. If he didn't have anything to do with it, or if he did and I get something important wrong, then he'll know I'm bluffing. But I have to get answers. There has to be justice for the murder of that old man!
    Nora'dex sat bolt-upright, bloodshot eyes wide open, pupils dilated not only from the semi-darkness, but from surprise as well.
    "Murdered! General S'Teveirr was murdered! How? When? Why? Who did this? You think... you think I was involved? I'm innocent! I had nothing to do with this! I would never take part in the murder of an officer! And from such a powerful family! Do you know what they would do to me?" Vardok looked him right in the eyes.
    "If I was you, I would be more worried about what I am going to do to you. You're agent was captured. Told me everything. I just want to hear the final details. To be sure that every last Romulan, Reman, and alien involved dies. From the one who plunged the knife into his heart, to the one who uploaded the virus, to the one who planned it all. I know you are behind this. But I want to know who else aided you in this crime. Your agent... unfortunately... died before answering every question." I sure hope he's not been in recent contact with any of his agents. If he even had anything to do with this.
    Commander Nora'dex looked properly terrified now.
    "Agent? What are you talking about! I had nothing to do with this! I wanted General S'Teveirr to make it back to Rator III alive so that I could unmask him and let him take the blame that he deserved for the deaths of everyone in the defensive fleet. I wouldn't kill him! If I returned alone, I would risk disgrace as the sole surviving officer! You have to believe me!" Vardok was getting frustrated now.
    "Why should I believe you? Everyone from your escape pod was caught in one lie after another. Your 'Centurion' was not who he was dressed to be. Your nurse was not who she said she was. 'Your' guards weren't officially yours at all. And then there is you. The officer who lead his fleet to failure and defeat, beyond the Neutral Zone, and then blames his General for his own failure, only to murder him to cover up his incompetence. Everything you are is a lie. Why should I believe you now?" Why should I believe in myself? Hasn't everything I've said to these people been a lie? A means to an end? No. No. This is war, war is different. Personal gain is never a good reason to lie. It is never justified. Do the ends ever justify the means though? When it saves life and liberty, yes.




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Cargo Hold B3 23:12 Day 2

    Veri Deletham sat in the dark cargo bay, behind some crates, her flashlight providing a faint glow around her. She enjoyed the quiet. Romulans talked too much, and did too little. She liked to take time alone to think. Although she was talkative, she preferred action to words, and thought was essential to action.
    Why can't they see that the only way to get someone to talk when they don't want to is to break them? Why do they insist on following these little rules? Who do they protect? Themselves? From what? Success? The prisoners? From what? Giving them the information that they so desperately need? They just don't make sense. And when I do them a favor, they are angry at me. Why are they so... foolish, sometimes? They are fierce warriors. But they cripple themselves with their system of doing things. It would be better if they were t-. But Veri's train of thought was cut off by a noise. CLUNK! Something is in this cargo bay. Time to find out what.
    She commed security as she got to her feet, flashlight in her left hand.
    "This is Centurion Deletham. I am in Cargo Bay B-three. Please respond." She said, drawing her disruptor pistol and switching the safety off.
    "This is security. What can we do for you, Centurion?" She took cover behind a crate.
    "I believe there is an unauthorized individual in this cargo hold. I came down her to think, and now I heard something." She whispered, trying to maintain the advantage of surprise.
    "Copy that, Centurion. We'll have a security team down there right away. I think you may have found one of the Reman escapees."
    "Veri out." She closed the channel and listened intently. She could barely hear a voice on the other end of the cargo bay. She tip-toed closer, staying behind crates to avoid detection. She was right, she had heard a voice. A very deep, male voice by the sound of it.
    "I'm almost done down here. No, I have't encountered anyone. The makeshift explosive is almost ready, we'll be able to take him out easily in just a few minutes.
    Hold on. I thought I heard something." And then all she could hear was utter silence. She breathed, slowly, in, and out, trying to remain calm and focus on her enemy. If it is one of Nora'dex's Reman guards, I am heavily outmatched down here. They live in the dark. He can see in here. I need light. My light just gives me away to him without telling me anything.
    She held her back against a crate, trying to leave her opponent as few options of attack as possible. I should get out. But if I make for the door, he'll hear me. I have to wait him out until the security team gets here. Blast it I should have left when the power went off, but I commed the bridge and they assured me everything was alright. I hate incompetence.
    Okay, where is my enemy? What's my next move?
    Click... What was that? I think I'm being hunted!
    tck tck tck...
    THUD! Something had landed on her left. She moved to train her flashlight and pistol on her foe, but it was only a small crate that had fallen to the floor.
    WUUUMP! The crate had been a distraction! The Reman was only a meter away from her on her right! He reached her, before she could turn to defend herself, and slammed the flat of his hand against her disruptor before she had time to aim. But her index finger was on the trigger and the force of the blow caused her to squeeze, and she fired. BEEJWEEH!
    The shot went wide and hit a crate, sending a shower of sparks as the tritanium container was blasted clean through.
    The Reman grabbed and twisted her arm and the disruptor pistol clattered to the deck. She struggled to get free of his grip, but before she could, she felt the cold edge of a blade against her neck. And then came a deep, gravely voice.
    "Don't move." She remained perfectly still, not tempting him to kill her.
    "I wasn't planning on it, I like living too much."
    "Good."    




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 23:16

    Commander S'ren was getting tired of Nora'dex's feigned lack of knowledge about the murder. The Republic Commander gripped the table, his knuckles white, his face green with frustration.
    "You can tell me what I want to know, or I can turn you over to the Tal Shiar, and you will tell them everything you know... and wish that that would satisfy them so that they would just kill you!" Nora'dex's eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. He was completely out of his wits with fear now. He managed to whimper a response.
    "I have told you everything! I tell you I don't know who killed the General! My hands are clean! I have done nothing wrong!" If there were five things that Vardok hated, they were a liar, a coward, a braggart, selfishness, and cruelty, and all five sat before him in Nora'dex.
    "You worthless coward. You can't even take responsibility for the murder you were a party to! Where is your honor! Stand up like a Romulan!" S'ren was genuinely angry now. It wasn't an act anymore. Nora'dex was so fake, so shallow, and so proud. He made all the lives that had been lost in decades of war between Romulans seem unimportant because he considered his own life of more worth than those of a million others.
    "I don't know, Commander S'ryn! I don't know! I am an innocent bystander! I am above killing someone for personal reasons. I would not kill another Romulan for personal gain."
    Vardok slammed his fists down on the table, flipping it to the ground, and sending Nora'dex scuttling back from his seat.
    "Liar." He's told me about some of the battles he's fought in, battles against the Republic. Some of those battles were blood baths with the Empire raining down fire on unprotected Republic civilians.




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Cargo Hold B3 23:17

    There had been complete silence for the past five minutes. The Reman held his blade to Veri's throat. What is his plan? What is mine? Think. I need to get out of this alive, and that means getting that knife away from my neck if I can. The Reman grunted.
    "Seems you're alone, without any friends coming to help you. Which means I don't need you as a hostage." Veri could hear the pleasure in his voice at this. Not good. I need to be an asset to him, not a hindrance. And especially not something that's fun to kill.
    "Oh they're coming. I contacted them before I investigated what you were doing in here." He snorted.
    "Oh I don't think so. You're stalling for time. And your time's up." Then they both heard the creaking, scraping noise of metal on metal; the cargo bay door opening.
    He pulled her back and aside, further away from the door. She didn't dare call out, but she did drop her flashlight as he shoved her with his free hand. It hit the deck with a clink!
    Then they heard footsteps.
    "Centurion? Are you here? Are you alright? Alright, let's clear the cargo bay. Move in!" Veri's Reman captor dragged her even further from the door. She struggled to keep up without pushing against the blade.
    She could hear the sound of running feet now, and then the blindingly bright light of five tac-lights were on her and her Reman foe. He roared in anger at the bright light in his sensitive eyes.
    "RAAAAAAAAH!" The Romulan security team now had their disruptor carbines trained on the Reman.
    "Let the Centurion go, or we'll fire!"
    Veri could feel the blade bite into her skin. She sucked in a deep breath as the fiery prick of pain registered in her brain. She could feel a trickle of blood ooze from the wound. If he cuts much deeper, I'll be a dead woman. The Reman replied in his earthy voice.
    "Why would I let my hostage go only to have you gun me down afterward? You think I am foolish enough to do that?" He gripped her more tightly with his off hand.
    "Lower your weapons and I will let her live."
    She felt his grip loosen. Then she saw his free hand reaching for something on his sleeve, something very small, and technological. Shield generator? No, not enough of a power source. His communicator is on his chest, I can feel it digging into my back. A smoke screen? No.... Of course! A personal site-to-site transporter. It's what I'd do if I was him. I've just got to make him think he's safe long enough to get away from him. And I know how to make him feel save.
    "Listen to me. Lower your weapons. He's won this round." The security team looked at her questioningly.
    "Do it! That's an order!" They lowered their disruptors.
    She could feel the knife pull away from her neck by the slightest fraction.
    With every ounce of strength in her, she slammed her body back against his, and pushed his dagger-wielding hand away from her neck with both of her arms. It was just enough to get free from him. Veri dropped to the deck and yelled,
    "Fire!"
    The security forces raised their disruptors again and fired five stun blasts at the Reman. His energy dampening armor absorbed the first three shots, but the latter two dropped him to the deck, on top of her, unconscious.
    She let out a sigh of relief.
    "You've got to plan ahead. Now gentlemen, would you kindly get this buffoon off of me?" The Republic guards happily did so.
    "Are you alright, sir?" They asked as she dusted herself off.
    "I believe I'm fine, short of this cut on my neck. But sickbay can take care of that.      
    Quickly do as I say. Check his communicator. He was talking to someone, possibly the other Reman." The Sublieutenant in charge of the security team picked up the communicator off of the stunned Reman's body.
    "Is it functional, soldier? Did the stun blast damage it?" He examined it more closely.
    "I think it's in working order, sir. Although that was a heavy blast, it looks like it's still working." She picked up her flashlight, walked a little ways, stooped down, picked up her disruptor pistol, returned it to safe, and holstered it.
    "Then can you track where the being on the other end of the communication was at the time of the call?" The Sublieutenant shook his head no.
    "I'm sorry, Centurion, but that's not in my skill-set." She gave a little sigh.
    "Then I'll talk with someone who can. The technical department ought to be able to help with this.
    You go investigate what that Reman was doing down here. I think he said something about explosives, so be careful." She tapped her own communicator and contacted tech.
      "Tech here. This is Taev Aenikh. We're really too busy to try and add something else in right now. Can it wait until tomorrow?" Veri remained perfectly calm.
    "No. This is urgent. Lives depend on this. I need you to track where someone was on the other end of a communication on board this ship. Can you use the communicator used on one end of the comm to do that?" Taev was silent while he typed away for a moment.
    "Yeah, I can do that. Plug the communicator into a PADD, will ya?" She took a PADD from one of the security guards and connected the Reman's communicator into the system.
    "What can you tell?" She asked.
    "Ah, first of all, that you meet at least the first five of my requirements for a potential wife. And-"
    "About the Communicator, Mr. Aenikh." He typed away for another minute.
    "Oh, right.
    Well, that's strange. That communicator doesn't have a tracking device. This isn't standard Republic issue, that's for sure. Whoever made this didn't want to be tracked. It almost looks like a piece of spec-ops military equipment." She rolled her eyes. Of course they'd use anti-tacking communications tech, what was I thinking? Right. There's got to be a way to figure out where whoever was on the other end was. The personal transporter! Of course! It may be pre-programmed with the destination. And they would likely meet up before attempting to make their next big move.
    "Can you figure out where a personal transporter was programmed to take someone, Mr. Aenikh?" She sincerely hoped that this wouldn't turn out to be another dead-end.
    "Where are you getting all this awesome tech? You just met requirements seven through thirteen!" I don't have time for this. We need to deal with these people now.
    "Charming, but can you track where it was programmed to take someone?" Taev answered quickly.
    "Oh I can track it alright. I'm the best there is at what I do.
    Plug it into your PADD and let's have a look." Veri did so.
    "Okay, now to trace the trajectory of the linear omega module path via the secondary binary star-chart matrix. And I just need to follow the code.*******" Veri interrupted.
    "Just tell me when you find it, in plain language please." Taev sighed.
    "And you just failed requirements fourteen through seventeen. But of course, most people don't know the basics of intermediate warp theory or how to read code, so I suppose I could live with that." She practically growled her response.
    "Mr. Aenikh. Find out where he was going and shut up."
    Yes, Centurion. You did just meet requirement nineteen though. Right! The location, of course.
    I've got it."    
       
     




OOC
* Mneani = red
** Nhyrh = alert
*** Lloannen'galae = Federation Starfleet
**** lloann'mhrahel = them from there = Starfleet
***** Ra'kholh = Avenger
****** Areinnye = Hades, death, the underworld
******* All of that was random technobabble I came up with on the spot, none of it is canon Trek tech as far as I know.
End OOC

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

OOC to Dino:
MORE, MORE, MORE!!!!
End OOC


Turson salutes Johnnyred and exits the Captain's cabin, heading toward the transporter room.

Ten minutes later, he is back aboard the Liberty, at the bridge.

"All hands, this is the Commandant," he speaks on the intercom. "Prepare for warp. All personnel involved in martial operations, stand by. We will be heading for Rator III within the hour. Starboard personnel, keep your eye on the PXE ships, and be ready for battle. For now they are our allies, but we barely know anything about them, or why they are here. All hands, await further instructions."

"Lieutenant," he says to the comm officer. "Patch me in to Captain Johnnyred. I must know the exact time of departure, and what our general strategy shall be."

"Aye, aye, sir," she responds.

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC If these next few parts seem a bit rushed, that’s because they are; as I mentioned to PXR, I don’t have a lot of time on my hands, what with school starting soon and whatnot. END OOC


Comanche point, Sintara nebula, Sector 14, PCG space
Transporter room 5C, PCG Vindex

Wrightshede and Darby materialized on the transporter pad just like they had arrived. Immediately, a thunderous “COMMANDANT ON DECK!” rang through; immediately, the marine fireteam snapped a smart salute. The nearby PCG fleet crewmembers, somewhat surprised at the formality of the nearby marines, gave their own, salutes- not anywhere near the professionalism of the marines, but still relatively proper for PCG standards. The Commandant gave a brisk return motion and declared “At ease”. All salutes were dropped, and the leader of the fireteam stepped forward. “Sir,” the team leader said, “I am Lieutenant* Sokpal, second-in-command of this vessel’s marine detachment and commanding officer of it’s heavy defence cadre. I am here to escort you the primary meeting room,” He paused for a moment, watching his commander’s face, and then inquired “...is there any issue, commander?” Wrightshede blinked and replied “Well… it’s just that I’ve never heard a Vulcan really raise his voice before,” “That is because humans normally raise thir voice due to emotion. Vulcans rarely experience emotion and thus do not often raise their voice.” Wrightshede spent another moment looking at his new security lieutenant before saying “Very well, Mr. Sokpal… let us proceed.” “Follow me, commander,” the Vulcan replied, nodding and led the way out.


Primary conference room, Command tower, PCG Vindex

Wrightshede took his seat at the head of the table, glancing at several datapads in front of him. The rest of the gathered officers settled back down from their salute and prepared for their new commander. After several moments, The acting commandant looked up and declared “Everything seems to be in order. Very well, let’s start with a bit of a roll call- as I call each ship, say each officer present here. Vindex?”
“XO, strike craft head, marine commander all present,”
“Excellent. Bastion?”
“CO, XO, and spec ops flight commander all present,”
“Very good. And the Unity?
“XO and strike craft head present, sir.”
Wrightshede looked at the origin of the voice: a young-looking officer, likely the XO. “May I ask why your CO is unaccounted for?” He probed authoritatively. “Food poisoning,” the junior officer replied, “He was on Foratius Outpost when he got it, and we left him with their medical facilities… it was our understanding that we would be able to pick him up on the SoL rendezvous.”
Wrightshede grunted in reply and then loudly said “Very well then… now to proceed with the matter at hand.” He pressed several button on the table in front of him and a 3D map of the general area of space they would be traveling it appeared, quickly followed by a political-boundaries overlay. “The plan right now is to get to the jump gate at these coordinates”- he punched several more buttons, which caused the screen to highlight the gate’s location- “and jump to the last known location of the SoL Task force, here” -the new location was also highlighted, deep within Romulan space- “Where several Oregon Trail-class cargo vessels recently jumped to. From there, we will follow what we believe to be their flight path into the Rator system, which, as is being highlighted, should be able to bypass the majority of the Romulan border defences. If we can’t catch up to them, then we wait on the system’s borders while I set up a secure channel with the LC,”
He stopped to let the other officers finish typing their notes and mull on the plan some. Makes it sound almost simple, saying it like that, he reflected. When he felt the other were ready, he asked “Any questions?” he picked a hand “Sir, how strong are the Romulan defences around the capital? Will they be ready?” Wrightshede glanced down at his datapad, then looked back up and replied “Rator III is defended by the Romulan’s Twelfth fleet- one of their crack units, made up almost exclusively of natives. Recent reports also indicate they may have some sort of secret defence pact with the MSI and purchased some PXE squadrons, though the extent- or even validity- of these claims is currently uncertain,”
“What about the task force’s firepower?” Another ventured.
“Not very much, I’m afraid. This op is top-secret, so we’re not sure what kind of firepower we’ll have backing us up; the only vessels we have confirmed are the Liberty and Arondite. We also know the group is pretty small- likely less than twenty ships- and it may include vessels acquired from the PXE and Daragon inc.” This was immediately tailed by hushed murmuring among those gathered.
After answering several other, more mundane questions, and then being assured there were no more, Wrightshede drew the meeting to a close by saying “Well, I can think of no other topics to discuss; all ships are to return to port for any and all last-minute supplies. Brief your crews before leaving the nebula- and no drinking! Loose lips sink ships, as they say. Each ship is to leave no less than thirty minutes after the last, and try to approach from a different vector if possible. I’m open to suggestions before we leave PCG space, but when we get into Rommie territory, I want complete radio silence. All adjourned.”
As each got up to leave, he pulled over Cliff for a quick chat. “So,” he said, “how’s it feel to be the new commanding officer of an Indianna-class heavy cruiser?”
“Not good,” Darby mumbled in reply, probably still recovering from the slew of news that kept coming in, rapid-fire. The Acting Commandant laughed. “Exactly how I felt when I took command.”
“You never led us in a suicide charge,” Cliff shot back, almost venomously.
“Suicide charge?” the commandant said in return, “That’s a bit...”
“Appropriate! That’s what it is, perfectly suited for this situation!” Cliff suddenly lashed out. “We’re not coming back from this!”
“Do you really think that the PCG would just throw some of it’s finest ships away in a doomed enterprise with no hope of success?”
“I didn’t. Now… I’m not so sure.”
“Look, we’re not invading, just infiltrating,”
"Then why do we have battle fleet?”
“Call it… added insurance,”
Unsatisfied, Cliff stormed out, back to the transporter room.
“A little trouble?” Tom Moyter, Wrightshede’s new XO, asked.
“You could say that,” came the reply, sighing. “Have all the ship’s senior officers meet here in an hour- I want to get acquainted with my new crew.”

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

Onboard the Eva

Alarms blared throughout the entire vessel. PXR risked a glance under the maintenance shaft. The halls were in chaos. Explosions rippled throughout the deck, wiping security personnel and MI units away. The armor that covered the internal power conduits, wiring, and other miscellaneous power conductors was completely shredded, wreaking havoc on the already chaotic crowd. “Keep moving. Keep moving. Almost there.” Trying his best to focus, PXR continued his crawl towards the secondary bridge. Fleet reports continued filtering through his wrist pad, followed by shouting, yelling, and explosions.

Suddenly, another message came through his wrist watch. “This is Captain Vryon of the PXS Aquila to PXR. Do you copy? We are several kilometers from your position. ETA 3 minutes.”

PXR glanced at his wrist pad doubtfully. “Another PCG saboteur?” Cautiously, he glanced at the small tablet-like device. “This is PXR of the 1st Fleet. Commence the airstrike immediately.”

“This is Captain Vryon. We received several distress calls from the PXS Eva. Transmit situation code”

Finally realizing that the speaker was really Captain Vryon, he transmitted a Code Alpha Two. “You’ll have to commence the airstrike without us. The fleet is in turmoil, and several vessels have been locked down. We are dealing with a Code Alpha Two, repeat a Code Alpha Two, over.”

Vryon wanted to object to PXR’s orders immediately. “Sir, even with our fighters, we won’t be able to take out the Mukara in the sub-tunnels. Those there will survive. Without fleet support, we’ll have to wait a half orbit for another reliable LZ. Our orders were to load bombers onboard, not dropships sir. We won’t be able to land significant land-based clean-up fire support.”

Adamant and agitated, PXR responded, “Sir, if those Mukara break open the primary maintenance shafts, all of them will be able to make it into the sub-tunnels. We have no choice. We’ll have to take out what we can from the air, without ground support, at least for now. The fleet’s in-” BOOM! “terrible condition.” BOOM! Another shockwave ripped through the Eva, yanking part of the tunnel underneath him loose.

“We’ve lost contact with the Eva. All bombers are on standby. Should we commence the airstrike sir?” Vryon reviewed the situation in his head. The possible outcomes of another Kalla-like situation. “This is Captain Vryon to all pilots, prepare for mass-deployment and engagement.” Looking back at his communications officer, he inquired, “Coordinates and target sub-sectors have been locked right?” The officer tapped the screen in front of him, moving assorted programs back and forth. He scanned one of them before replying, “Affirmative sir.”

City of Olarth

Within minutes, every single Phoenix and Shrike had been scrambled. Nearly 1300 fighters and bombers approached the rapidly closing planetary city of Olarth, weaving through the turmoil that was quickly escalating throughout the 1st Fleet. “This is Commander Reger to Captain Vryon, ETA to target is 5 minutes.” Turning to his DIS-037, he ordered, “All units, form up into your respective squadrons. Arm AGM’s and prepare for bombing runs. Lock into sub-sector coordinates and primary bombing zone.” The massive horde of fighters quickly cleared the thin atmosphere of Olarth into the still smoking but desolate ruins of what was once one of the greatest cities of the PXE. But almost as quickly, flashes appeared on every single sensor screen, indicating the massive swarms of Mukara. “This is Commander Reger to Captain Vryon, we are within basic sensory range of targets. Transmitting data now.” Returning to the DIS, he muttered, “All fighters and bombers, break formations now! Repeat, all fighters and bombers, break formation!” The massive flock of PXE fighters and bombers broke up into comparatively tiny twelve fighter squadrons of Phoenix’s and Shrike’s. Commander Reger activated his DIS again. “All units, maintain altitude of at least 30,000 meters. After bombing runs, return to the barges.”

Thrusting his own Phoenix into a steep dive, he screamed into an altitude of about 35,000 meters before pulling the fighter up. His squadron behind him, Reger led the squadron towards sub-sector Oscar, in Sector 5. “All fighters, lock onto targets. Arm AGM’s for mass engagement.” Grunts of affirmative rang throughout the squadron. The Phoenix’s were rapidly closing. Hordes of Mukara scurried on the surface of Olarth, no doubt discerning the black dots in the sky as PXE fighters. “All fighters, missiles away.” These exact orders would be repeated for the next ten minutes, as each squadron reached their respective targets. Reger squeezed both triggers on his joystick, sending shrieking missiles careening towards their targets. A massive volley of AGM’s slammed into the surface below them, tearing through the Mukara hordes, literally blowing them to bits. The Mukara, powerless to deflect the inevitable bombings, emitted growls and horrendous screeches, but it would be futile against the relentless PXE airstrikes. Firing an AGM from his secondary launcher, Reger watched in satisfaction as it exploded in flames above the Mukara, sending blazing shrapnel and liquified fire into the massive accumulation of creatures on the surface. Fires quickly consumed the entire horde, as the fireworks continued raining down on the horde. “This is Commander Reger, Operation Wipe-Out is complete.” Similar proclamations echoed throughout the other squadrons of Phoenix’s and Shrike’s. The already ruined city was sent into even greater flames as every single Mukara on the surface and less than 500 meters below it was ripped apart, doused in flame, or crushed by rubble. The fighters returned, victorious, with exactly zero casualties.

Onboard the Eva: The Secondary Bridge

As Commander Reger relayed data to Captain Vryon, the firefights onboard the PXS Eva continued. PXR and General Carlson, along with several security units finally reached the Secondary Bridge. But there was more than just one saboteur. PXR grunted in frustration. He and Carlson were outnumbered three to one, and most of the other security teams were still dazed from the previous collision. Switching the lever to his rocket launcher, cocked the AR-5 and squeezed the trigger, sending a missile ripping towards the projector. It shattered the screen, tearing apart the base before sending shrapnel into the two PCG saboteurs behind it. One piece of shrapnel cut into the eye of one of them while another three pieces sliced right through the left arm and left leg of the other PCG saboteur. "Great, so only ten more to go.” PXR flipped the lever back to its normal setting before raising his AR-5 and spitting a stream of electron fire at a cluster of PCG saboteurs. Switching his visor into infrared, he traced the PCG members towards the primary fleet database. He redirected his AR-5 and unleashed a volley of lethal electron beams, killing all three instantly. Immediately, a hail of bolts responded from the opposite direction. PXR didn’t bother ducking, allowing his armor to do the job. The bullets split apart, falling onto the ground. Nevertheless, PXR couldn’t resist ducking, more on instinct than actual logic. In retaliation, PXR let off a volley of electron beam fire at the PCG saboteurs. His visor informed him that both targets had been apprehended. He looked around. Carlson had killed several other PCG saboteurs. Only two were left. Nodding at Carlson, he transmitted a Code Charlie Five, then switched his ammunition to tranquilizers. He ripped a magazine from his belt, replacing the rocket magazine that was already in position. And then, silently, he locked onto one of the remaining saboteurs, as Carlson did the same to the other. They fired, and both of them fell down. PXR continued his crouching position, cautiously crawling towards the fallen saboteurs. When he reached them, he scanned both for any identification. Finally, he saw something. A tag. It was a PXE civilian tag. Niko. Ro Niko. Shocked, he summoned Carlson and another soldier. “When he wakes up, I want his neuronic patterns scanned continuously. I want a complete neuro-scan. Afterwards, have his left armed torched. I want as much information as possible. Scrutinizing the other figure, he murmured, “Same goes for him. I want everything dug out of their mind. As much as possible. If torching doesn’t work, interrogate at your discretion.” Contemplating something, he continued, “I don’t want them dead either.” Stalking out of the completely destroyed secondary bridge, PXR paced towards the Intel Bridge, mentally reviewing just how terrible PXE’s situation really was.

Quadrant IV: Port Omaha

Quiet chatter completed the otherwise silently peaceful tower. But the situation was far from peaceful. “This is Commander Barzok to Captain Axal, over. Repeat, this is Command Barzok to Captain Axal, over.” Looking away from the projection, he shook his head in disgust, exasperation, and exhaustion. “No luck. Either Axal’s communications are cut, or he’s ignoring us.” Admiral Raznt mumbled something. “Try using the Intel channel.” Barzok tapped several buttons on the projector. “Access is restricted. I wonder how that happened. Why is access to Intel restricted from an Intel center?” The admiral, gaped inside his helmet but remained calm. “Try a private channel to Command.” Frustrated, Barzok grind his teeth. “No luck. Nothing works! Every channel to Quadrant I is cut off! What’s going on?” The admiral appeared absolutely shocked. “Only Command could restrict channels. And that would never occur. Unless…unless there’s a…a Code Charlie or Alpha or something…” Barzok, flustered, clattered out of the command center. He rushed towards the primary communications tower. Pounding in the access code, he tramped in. Several officers immediately stood up, wanting to protest. But Barzok carelessly waved them away. “This is urgent. I need a direct transmission to Naval Command.”

Onboard the Capricorn

Axal glanced out of the primary viewport of the Capricorn. “The PCG ships are moving sir. I am not picking up any weapons signatures from their primary weapon systems. However, energy readings have spiked from their shielding systems. I assume that the PCG ships are on standby, either for engagement with us, or for the upcoming invasion of Rator III.” The officer paused for a second, regarding a live transmission from the nearby PCG warships. Continuing, he declared, “Based on live thermalkinetic sensor readings, many of there fighters are prepared for launch.” Axal nodded at the young officer, then strode towards the bridge hatch.

Several minutes, he found General Gkal in hangar bay Bravo, overseeing the stream of MI units that were now marching towards their respective transports. “I need boarding parties on standby. The PCG ships are apparently on alert.” Gkal acknowledged Axal before returning to regulating the boarding operations.

Axal arrived back at the bridge. “Sir, the decoys are onboard the PCG Arondite. Reporting intense activity sir. It seems that the PCG task force’s respective leaders have not appeared.” Responding, Axal said, “Keep them on high alert. Gather as much intel as possible.” Axal, turned back to delivering orders to the bridge officers. “Get a direct link with Intel Command. I also want a Code Beta Five sent to Port Omaha.” The bridge officer nodded in recognition before tapping several buttons on his projector screen. “Captain, we have a…problem, sir.” Turning to the officer, he demand, “What is it?” The bridge officer motioned to Axal. “I can’t get a transmission to Naval Command or Port Omaha. It seems that transmissions are all jammed up." Switching through all three CIS’s, he shook his head. “Only FIS-073 seems to be operational. CCIS is also jammed up. No response from Naval Command or Port Omaha.” Axal, bewildered, ordered, “Switch to an Alpha One.” The officer rotated several switches on his projected screen. “No luck sir. No transmissions are coming in or out. I think the entire CIS is crashed.” Axal, in disbelief, gasped, “That’s impossible. All three CIS’s are separate. You can’t crash the network simultaneously.” The same bridge officer similarly baffled, uttered, “Uh, sir, you might want to take a look at this…” Surveying the projected screen, Axal saw the trademark CIS mapping structure. But one thing was different. Or rather, several things. “What?” the captain managed to gasp out. Every single circle was highlighted by green, but the chains that connected them, normally green, were white. “The linking’s dead…how’d that happen? How the crap did that happen?” Waving his hands in the air, expressing his exasperation, he exclaimed, “Great, the CIS is out. Communications are down. The only way to shut down the CIS is by restricted access. Access is restricted to command. Command is limited to only several people. It’s impossible to completely wipe out every CIS, at least at once anyway. You can’t shut down the network remotely. Which means, the only reason why it’s shut down is because Command shut it down.” The bridge officer, who was still staring at the screen in complete shock just nodded his head.

Onboard the Eva: Prisoner Containment Area

“We’ve been monitoring both of their neurological patterns for several hours. It’s the same Niko,” continued General Carlson triumphantly. But PXR shook his head. “How is Niko related to the PCG? How did he even get past regulations?” Carlson responded again. “I’ve traced his entire genetic history. Currently, he has a family based on the outskirts of PCG space. He came here, apparently to…find a…better job. As a genius at genetics and biology, he was almost immediately appointed a job at the Academy at Kahi, as a geneticist stationed at Kalla’s laboratory. He was permitted to stay within PXE space for over two years without official approval due to his intelligence. However, when the First Mukara War began, with the first sighting of the Mukara in the laboratory of Kalla, Niko disappeared. Completely disappeared. As in, all record of his existence vanished. In the decade span between the Third Battle of Kalla and the Second Invasion of Kalla, he most likely returned to PCG space, to transmit data, before restarting the Mukara reproductive sequence.” Pausing for just a second he said, “That’s why they are different now. Produce asexually, larger, more savage, tougher exoskeleton.” PXR glimpsed at the general. “Good work sir. You’ve done an excellent job. You may return to your quarters. I’ll alert you if needed.” The general acknowledged PXR’s words, then strolled out of the confinement area. PXR paced towards the imprisoned Niko, gazing at his injuries. The torching had burnt off most of the skin of his left arm and the left part of his back was bursting open. Niko grimaced and bared his teeth, which were bloody and partly destroyed. Ignoring the growl, PXR challenged, “Were you authorized by the PCG’s government to sabotage the Mu project? How long have you been transmitting data to the PCG. How many saboteurs are within PXE borders?” Niko adamantly shut his mouth. PXR, expecting a similar answer, stalked out. “Carlson, do you read me?” The general answered immediately. “Copy that, this is General Carlson.” PXR thought of his response before saying, “I’m going to run a test…on the other saboteur. We need to find out if these are affiliated with the PCG’s government.” General Carlson abruptly froze. “But sir…usage of Mukara as weapons was forbidden after the First War. This is worst than torture. Sir, we can’t do this to them…even if they’re enemies…” “General, we have no choice. If we don’t confirm them, we won’t be able to figure out their true identity, and the PCG…” Deciding that PXR was right, he agreed, “Yes sir.”

PXR quickly returned to the containment area, pacing towards the unconscious form of the other PCG saboteur. He quickly typed in a passcode. A lever revealed itself from the wall. Gazing at the lever and contemplating what he was about to do, he finally reached a decision. PXR yanked down on the lever, and a hatch inside the energy barrier slowly slid open. And within was a monstrous Mukara creature. It shrieked and hissed in anger, before seeing the unconscious saboteur. The Mukara cautiously crawled forward, then raised its claw, shoving the body over. Abruptly, it raised its claw and leaped backwards onto its two hind legs. As if injured, it pulled its body backwards, retreating slowly towards the hatch. PXR gazed in shock. “So the saboteurs really were authorized…this complicates things” Activating his wrist watch, he conveyed, “This is PXR to General Carlson. We have a Code Alpha One situation…Get a direct transmission to Command, and re-raise all communications. I need an immediate meeting with Central Command."

OOC: Hope you guys enjoyed. Took really long to write. I'll try to correct any grammatical errors tomorrow, as I'm extremely tired right now. Even missed the Man City vs Stoke City game. Anyway, I hope its okay for the plot to be this way. And sorry if it seems all over the place, I'm trying to reconnect all of the different locations back to the war at hand, and hopefully back to SoL...at least eventually. Expect this subplot to last a bit longer...and I'm super busy too... I'm hoping to complete this subplot soon though...it should be almost over. End OOC

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

OOC to PXR:

I definitely like your subplot. The mystery and action make it a worthwhile read!

However, I don't know where you're going with this PCG saboteur thing. The PCG would never authorize such an action...unless, of course, there is another unknown traitor in our midst. As long as it doesn't end up in a PXE vs. PCG war, you may continue. I will let you know if it starts to go against my main plot.

End OOC

Commander Turson salutes as Johnnyred's face appears on his screen.

"Captain, I was wondering what your general strategy is, and at what time you think we should leave for the Rator III system. Also, how is the talk with the PXE representatives going?"

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

Johnnyred sat alone in his quaters, lamps set to dim in his room to give the room a grimmer atmosphere. Pressing a button on his datapad, he pulled a holographic map of Rator III. Sighing as he pinched the 3D holo-map in his fingers, he zoomed in upon the capital city.

This was the part he hated. Romulans are a good people. They just had the tendency to have bad leadership, and unfortunately, Romulans are a very loyal and proud people. They would fight hard to protect their plant.

It wasn't often that the Phoenix Command Group had to play the invaders. And unless it was against the Borg he hated the job. The PCG wasn't about invading people's home's. It was about protecting and helping people. Fighting for freedom. But this was the only way to save the Federation. And this battle wouldn't end in space. They were going to have to put boots on the ground. Fortunately the Arondite carried plenty of Starquest Marines and the Daragon Troops would be invaluable. Plus with more ships incoming and others standing by at the Ark'aries Stargates owned by Delver, and other PCG stargates along with the few starships that had Wave Motion Drives. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to bring in the Argo and the Wave Motion Gun. Oregon Trail ships were standing by modified as troop carriers to bring in large amounts of troops for the invasion force.

Johnnyred stood up and walked over to his desk, picking up his katana and checking the sharpness on his thumb. Sharp enough. It never lost its edge, this sacred sword of his. He drew his M-2019 pistol and checked it, loaded, clean, he could see his reflection in the metal in the barrel, the miniature camera lens mounted under the barrel was clean. Thanks to this, he was able to make otherwise impossible shots. The camera accounted for movement, wind, etc. and provided him with a target symbol when he had a target in his sights, however this would only provide him with a split second window to react before the target moved out of the targeting window. He went through his other equipment, various rifles, knives, grenades, armor, etc. He was going to need all of this in the upcoming invasion. He was leading the force personally.

Everything was ready.

His comms beeped. "Captain Johnnyred." Bob's voice streamed through his headset. "Commander Turson on the line for you."

"Put him through, Bob."

Johnnyred turned to his vid-comm unit, viewing Commander Turson's image appear on the screen. Listening to the commander's message, Johnnyred replies "The PXE was a little late arriving to the Arondite they're coming aboard now. We'll depart for Rator III immediately after I meet with them. Before we depart, I'll pull up all the Commanders on the vid comm in the conference room to discuss the strategy. Stand by until then. I'd suggest making sure all of your crew and troops are ready, and pass along the message to the other ships to prep. Johnnyred out."

The vid cuts out and Johnnyred turns to face the door, opens it, and walks out. He breathed deeply as he walked quickly down the corridor. He hated meeting with new factions. While yes had grown to become friends with some of their leaders, in particular "Mutt" of the Atnlays, it was always a tricky task. Adjusting his dress uniform once more, he entered the conference room, gave the PXE representatives a quick salute, he sat down at the head of the table, punched in a Java Chip Frappe into the drink replicator, and smiled at the PXE crew.

"Gentlement, before we get down to business, may I offer you a beverage?"

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC: @Scare: Glad you like it.  Don't worry, I won't make it a war...yet.  (JK) But seriously, don't worry, I won't make a war. Also, please tell me if this part is too...antagonistic.  But seriously, please do. Thanks!  End OOC

Quadrant I: Kahi Point: Garrison At Kalla: 0940

“Move it!” Swinging his AR-9 in a wide arc, he squeezed the trigger, unleashing a relentless volley of electron beam fire. Turning his head, Bakay witnessed one of his fellow comrades getting torn apart by a Mukara. A terrifying screech from in front of Bakay blasted his ears. The Mukara triumphantly crawled over the czech hedgehog directly in front of Bakay. He fired a rocket from his shoulder, crushing its leg off. But it continued advancing. Activating his hardsuit-mounted blade shield, he lunged at the creature’s thorax, ripping open the “stomach” of the Mukara. He used his left hand to grab the machete on his back, flinging it into the exposed innards of the Mukara and rolled out of the way of the collapsing body. But the soldiers around him weren’t faring as well. Many of the hedgehogs had been ripped apart by the Mukara, and most of the land and ring mines were expended. The first trench was overrun. Contemplating the situation, Bakay triggered his communications array, ordering, “All units, fall back to the second trench. Repeat, all units, fall back to the second trench!” Three Mukara surged past the destroyed hedgehogs in front of Bakay, intent on killing him. Bakay vaulted backwards with his jump jet, then flipped around, sprinting straight towards the second trench, activating the powered legs. Around him, MI and trooper units retreated. Finally, with the trench in visual range, he deactivated his powered legs, as electron fire sputtered past him, followed up by mortar and artillery fire. He leaped into the trench, and someone shouted an indiscernible command. But immediately, several hardsuit units rose out of the trench carrying FT-2 flamethrowers, which doused the rapidly advancing Mukaran forces in fire, carrying with them the horrifying shrieks that continued echoing long after their deaths.

“What’s our sit-rep?” An officer in the temporary command station shook his head, obviously in distress. “Not good. Not good at all. 763 casualties just that attack. We’ve lost the entire first trench. All barb fences, shock pillars, artillery, hedgehogs, and mines beyond that have been expended. It’s bad. I doubt reinforcements are coming anytime soon.” Bakay nodded at the communications officer. “Anything?” The officer looked up, “Nothing sir. It’s worst. We’ve got a lightening-wind storm moving in at 30 kilometers an hour. It’ll be here by sundown.” Considering an idea, he challenged, “We still hold the northern cliffs don’t we?” Scrolling through several different images, he nodded. “But cliff’s too far off. The Mukara will see us-or at least smell us from the cliff. It’s impossible to ambush them from there.” But Bakay shook his head in denial. “No. Not in a lightening-wind storm. That thing will drift our scent all over the place. Confuse them. It’ll be way to dark to see anything in that mess.” He treaded through the trench, considering his options. “Situation’s desperate now. No reinforcements. No communications. This is our only chance.”

Onboard the Arondite

The decoys both stood up and saluted. Then they took their places back at the corner of the room. The Axal decoy responded, “No thank you Captain Johnnyred. However, we appreciate your accommodations.” The two MI-3 Taipan’s that accompanied each decoy remained completely silent and motionless, but were obviously on alert.  “We are now ready to begin the discussions, sir.”

Onboard the PXS Capricorn: Primary Bridge

“Anything? From the decoys or from Port Omaha?” The same bridge officer suddenly remarked, “Sir, it seems communications are back online! I’m also receiving live transmission from the decoys, in coded form. It seems that the discussions are about to begin.” Captain Axal looked over the officer’s shoulder. “Good.” On the projector, a figure, Admiral Raznt himself, appeared. Both the captain and the bridge officer saluted sharply. “Admiral, sir.” Admiral Raznt responded, “At ease. We received a Code Alpha One from your location.” Captain Axal nodded. “Our communications were down, so we switched to a Code Alpha One. We apologize sir.” The admiral waved his hand in the air. “Communications across PXE space have all been shut down. All communications. Commander Barzok has been trying to restore communications.” Axal nodded again. “Our decoys are now onboard the Arondite. The captain has been pleasant and hospitable to both decoys. However, we are reporting large amounts of thermalkinetic activity from their hangar bays and high energy signatures from their shields. I have the entire fleet on standby.” Admiral Raznt stared at Axal before abruptly rotating his head slightly to the left. “What is it?” Turning back to Axal, he explained, “Just a second sir.” Admiral Raznt paced towards a group of several officers, clustered in a row of projector screens and monitors. “From where? A Code Alpha One?” Raznt returned to the projector. “Captain Axal, I’ve received a Code Alpha One from the 1st Fleet in Quadrant One. I’ll need to cut communications sir.” Axal thought hard. “Affirmative sir.” The image of Admiral Raznt slowly faded, and the 73rd Fleet was once again alone.

Quadrant IV: Port Omaha

“Sir, it’s from the PXS Eva. A Code Alpha One transmission from General Carlson.” “Put it through.” Raznt watched intently as the projector screen crackled. “This is General Carlson to Admiral Raznt and Commander Barzok. The PXE is currently in a Code Alpha One situation. Several tests and interrogations performed at 0200 hours yesterday revealed that the PCG is behind the genetic mutations of the Mukara. Doctor Ro Niko, of the the Mu project, who disappeared nearly 15 years ago, was actually part of a PCG intelligence program. He is undergoing interrogation onboard the PXS Eva. Just three days ago, a group of PCG saboteurs attempted to steal several files of PXE fleet movements, especially the 73rd Fleet. They hijacked three different vessels before they were attempted. There were a total of twenty-three casualties. However, the saboteurs that were interrogated have revealed vital information on the Mukara and the PCG intelligence project. Unfortunately, with PXE’s forces diverted on multiple fronts: in Quadrant I, Romulan space, and several sectors in Quadrant II, our military is not ready for a full-scale war, against the PCG or its allies. However, with Port Omaha the closest port to PCG space, we have determined that Niko’s family must be killed in order to prevent…further… complications. Intel Command has decided to deploy the 71st’s Cheyenne Squadron to drop on Planet Delta 3 and assassinate the entire Niko family before returning to the dropship and departing from PCG space. The insertion will commence tonight, and the dropship will arrive at Port Omaha at approximately 1730 hours.” As the projection of Carlson vanished from the screen, Admiral Raznt thought for a moment. “Alert the Alpha 3 hangar bay to prepare for landing.” The officer acknowledged his command as Raznt ambled out of the command tower.

Meanwhile, Barzok had been shocked as the communications reactivated, and the same transmission was recorded. “Great. Where’s Raznt anyway? An insertion into PCG territory. Just great.”

Quadrant I: Kahi Point: Garrison At Kalla: 1500

The second trench reverberated the sound of electron beams. For nearly three weeks, PXE forces, under the command of Colonel Bakay, had been pinned down at the Garrison at Kalla. Despite the extensive array of defenses in the garrison: barb wire, hedgehogs, dragons’ teeth, mines, shock pillars, mortars, artillery, and other assorted defenses, the Mukara had overwhelmed the defenses of the first trench. For the PXE, the situation was quickly getting bleaker and bleaker as the prospects of surviving plummeted.

Bakay gazed around at the massive desolation. The bodies of both Mukara and PXE troops lie motionless on the battlefield. He activated his thermal scan on his visor. “Third wave’s inbound! Incoming!” Bakay quickly grabbed an AR-3 from the crate next to him. Most of the PXE troops had replaced their AR-1 and AR-5’s in favor of the AR-3 and AR-12’s, which were more accustomed and reliable for trench warfare, thanks to their racks. Several PXE troops around him grabbed their respective weapons and lined up in the trench. “Sir, anything at all?” A soldier near him glanced at Bakay. “Don’t die early.” The colonel then returned to observing the grotesque black wall of Mukaran bodies that were rapidly advancing. Then he shouted, “Fire!” Electron beams cut through the first of the Mukara, ripping through them after several seconds. Mortar shells began whistling toward the clustered swarm, throwing their bodies and body parts into the air with molten shrapnel careening wildly into neighboring Mukara. Behind Bakay, one of his comrades had selected an RL-1. He sent an HYR-1 into a random group of Mukara, setting them on fire and reducing them to bloody blobs on the ground. Despite the ruined hedgehogs, they were still sufficient in significantly delaying the Mukara, buying the PXE’s ground forces more time. Artillery fire from both the trench and the garrison’s wall further postponed their advance. But the Mukara’s horde was massive. For every dead Mukara, another ten would take its place. Glancing at his comrades, Bakay, ordered, “Flamethrowers. Fire on my mark.” As the Mukara expanded in size, Bakay intensified his squeeze on the trigger of his AR-3. The troops next to him grabbed FT-2’s, preparing to fire. The horde appeared as larger and larger specks. At about 500 meters, Bakay pointed his finger. “FIRE!” Geysers of fire sprayed past Bakay, smothering the closest Mukara in flame. Those behind them reared back, afraid of the huge wall of fire that had suddenly appeared. Several missiles bombarded past Bakay’s trench position, instantly killing another group of Mukara. Slowly, the mob of Mukara withdrew. Colonel Bakay nodded at his comrades in satisfaction. “Not dead yet…” Inside his head, he thought, “But soon. If reinforcements don’t get here…we’re all mincemeat.”

Bakay treaded back to the trench’s command center. “How far’s the storm?” The officer that he had spoken to earlier responded, “About two hours away. It’s picked up speed…closing in at about 37 kilometers an hour. Looks like it’ll be a pretty bad one.” The colonel just shook his head. “Not this time.”

OOC: I know most of you are probably bored with this excessively long subplot, so sorry about that.  I've been super busy though, with school and whatnot, and I'm trying to complete this entire thing before D-day. Additionally, I'm working on the barge, which is taking excessively long, mainly due to the already approx. 24k pcs model. It's destroying my computer, so I probably won't be able to finish it in time for D-day.  However, I'll try my best. Also, this subplot will probably be over soon, but I still need to reconnect all of the different characters and locations and finish the war so I can finally focus on SoL. However, expect it to last awhile, as the typing will most likely take at least several more days. I hope all of you understand. End OOC

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

OOC
^^^ (Sarcasm. I am enjoying your subplot) No. You're great subplot is awesome terrible and has me on the edge of my seat bored to tears. So please finish it quickly so I know how it ends so I don't have to read it anymore.
End OOC

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

Johnnyred takes a sip of his frappe. "Very good sir." He sets his cup down. Looking Axal he says... "Why do you want to help the Sons of Liberty?"

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC Once again, I find myself in concurrence with Dino; your subplot is quite good! It's just sad you'll have to rush it. END OOC

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

OOC
And AGAIN I find myself unable to draw this subplot to a close in one sitting. I will try to finish it soon though so I can rejoin the fleet.
End OOC


R.R.W. Alth'Indor Corridor, Sickbay Level, 23:25 Day 2

    Nala walked out of a room, her disruptor rifle held at the ready, followed by five security personal. Another team exited the room across the corridor from the one she and her team had just cleared.
    "Anything Sublieutenant?" She asked as she adjusted the strap on her rifle.
    "Not a thing, sir. This is going to take hours." She stretched her neck to the side to relieve the stress from the weapon strap resting on her shoulder.
    "Then we'll keep looking for hours until we find them.
    Alright, let's clear the next room." The Centurion stood at the next door, scanning left to right with his tricorder. Nala heard the device beeping, indicating that something was out of the ordinary in this room.
    "What is it, Centurion?" She said, gripping her weapon's fore-end more tightly.
    "I've got a weapon signature in this room Subcommander. Disruptor, small arm. Fairly high power reading, might be an anti-armor weapon. I think we've got a heavy hyaa-aifv* in there." At this, Nala motioned to the other team to come join them.
    "That's an usual thing to keep in your quarters, unless you're assigned to front line ground combat. Whose quarters are these?" The Centurion checked his PADD.
    "I'm sorry sir, the database is down, and I'm not familiar with this deck as I was just transferred here last month. I don't know if there is a good reason for there being an anti-armor weapon in this room or not." He shook his head. Nala adjusted her weapon's strap again.    
    "Then we might have a Reman holding it. Any life signs? Or explosives?" The Centurion continued to scan, sweeping his tricorder back and forth.
    "Negative, sir. No indication of life, explosives, or sensor interference. In fact, apart from the weapon, there's nothing unusual at all in this room." Nala waved to a Uhlan with a pry bar to come over.
    "Then let's find out what's inside." She held up her index finger, then flicked her wrist and held up two fingers, then flicked her wrist again and held up three digits. "MOVE IN!"
    The Uhlan shoved his crowbar in between the sealed doors and pulled with all his might, forcing them open. Nala and her team rushed into the room, disruptors trained on every position that a hostile could be in or behind. Nothing exploded, no one was greeted with a blast of disruptor fire to the chest. The room was devoid of any life-forms, as their scans had shown. They checked, weapons ready, behind the couch, chair, coffee table, and into the bedroom and head,** but found no one.
    Once the room was clear of hostiles and booby-traps, they searched for the weapon signature. A Lieutenant pointed to a heavy disruptor hand-cannon mounted on the wall.
    There's your weapon, sir. The Centurion checked it to make sure it wasn't some kind of trap before taking it down from the wall.
    "It's old. Likely an heirloom. Still quite a weapon though.
    I suggest we keep looking, sir." Nala let her rifle hang at her side.
    "Agreed, we're wasting time here. On to the next room."
    Nala's comm chirped. She tapped it on.
    "Nala here, who is this?" A voice came through her communicator. Maybe someone know's something useful. I hope we don't have a hostage situation.
    "Nala? This is Veri. I didn't know you were in charge of security."
    "I took over when those Remans went AWOL. I'm a bit busy at the moment, what's going on?" I don't have time to chat
    "I only found out about that when one of them held a dagger to my throat-" Nala interrupted, clearly upset.
    "Held a dagger to your throat! Are you alright? Do you need help? Where are you?" Veri, calm as ever, continued.  
    "Listen, security is already down here with me in Cargo Bay bee-three and we have one of the Reman intruders stunned and in custody. I'm fine." She lied. "The Reman we captured had just finished a comm with his partner. They were working on a bomb. We have the bomb, deactivated. They were planning on killing someone. I don't know who. He's still out cold.
    He was about to use a site-to-site personal transporter to rendezvous with his partner. With the help of the technical department, I was able to track where he was about to beam to. He was heading for Nora'dex's guest quarters. I suggest you take a team there and attempt to apprehend his colleague. And don't bother firing on stun, they've got energy dampening body armor." Nala held up her hand for everyone searching that deck to wait for new orders.
    "Right. I'm on my way up there. Nala out, and I'm glad you're safe." She closed the communication and turned to the Centurion.
    "Patch me in to the team on the deck where Nora'dex's guest quarters are; and the teams on the two decks directly above and the two decks directly below that." The Centurion took out his PADD and typed a series of commands into it. He nodded to her when the communication was ready.
    "This is Subcommander Telth'Aven. One of the intruders has been captured. The other is in Commander Nora'dex's guest quarters. Make for that point, but do not move in until I arrive; understood? Good, let's go get him."




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 23:26 Day 2

     Vardok paced back and forth, trying to contain his rising frustration with Commander Nora'dex. The Imperial Commander stood next to his overturned chair, and was nervously watching S'ren.
    "I am innocent! I have no blood on my hands! Why won't you believe me, Commander? You've got to believe me!" How dare he claim that he doesn't have any blood on his hands! He told everyone in earshot several hours ago about all the Remans he killed. I have worked with them. They were slaves. They rose up for their freedom. Nora'dex is either absolutely evil, or blind. And since the General could have his head for leading the fleet into battle across the Neutral Zone, he has the best motive so far for killing him. Vardok stopped pacing and turned to his prisoner angrily.
    "Stop lying to me! Tell me how you killed General S'Teveirr! I know you were involved! You are responsible for the well-being of your crew, and that includes your commanding officer! So, tell me." Nora'dex fumbled over his reply, too afraid to think or speak clearly.
    "I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it!" Vardok glanced over at D'Avek in exasperation. D'Avek had his head tilted forward, and was rubbing his temples with his right hand. He sighed. Both of them knew that this could become a very long, very difficult night.




R.R.W. Alth'Indor Guest Quarters Corridor 23:32 Day 2

    Nala and her security detail reached the doors to Commander Nora'dex's guest quarters. The security teams from five decks were already there, with dozens of armed Republic security personnel already filling the hall.
    The corridor was practically aglow from all the tact-lights.
    "Status report." Nala quarried. One officer held a tricorder near the door, trying to determine what was inside.
    "One Reman life-form Subcommander. No explosives detected at this time. I am reading a disruptor though." Nala checked her charge level again.
    "Listen up troops! We're about to storm that room. Beta formation, standard room clearing. Nothing fancy. Lob a flashbang in first, then rush in and let him have it. Set disruptors to heavy stun. Shoot on sight. As many of you as can hit him at once, do it. We can't risk him having a chance to return fire. Alright, questions?" Someone  spoke up
    "Sir, does he know we're coming? Is he prepared for us?" Nala turned to face the speaker, a frightened young Sublieutenant.
    "We don't know if he knows we're about to rush him, but he'd be crazy not to be prepared for us.
    Anyone else? No? Then get to your positions."
    The tactical teams formed up around the door, disruptors shouldered, pry bar in place, tac-lights on, flashbang at the ready. Nala motioned for the teams to begin.
     They pried the doors open and flung the flashbang through them immediately. They waited for the BOOM! and blinding flash of light that told them it had gone off and that their enemy was likely stunned. Then they charged in to the smoke-filled, dark room, carbines sweeping the entire area, searching for their foe. But he wasn't in the main chamber of the guest quarters.
    "Blast it, where is he!" The Centurion second in command of the operation exclaimed.
    "Search the bedroom and the head. This area's not clear yet. Move!" Subcommander Telth'aven ordered. The team moved deeper into the fairly spacious guest quarters. They carefully cleared the bedroom with no results.
    "I don't think he's here, sir." Piped up a Uhlan. It was the last thing that soldier would ever say. A wave of high powered disruptor energy, fired from the cracked-open head doors, collided with the Uhlan's forehead, disintegrating his entire head and leaving his body charred by the blast.
    "Take cover!" Screamed the Centurion. Nala and several officers dove behind the bed, others overturned the coffee table in the next room to try and afford themselves some small measure of protection, still others ducked behind the dresser in the bedroom. The young Sublieutenant didn't get to cover quickly enough. He was caught by another disruptor blast from the head doors, and had his entire upper body vaporized instantly.  
    With most of the tac-lights behind furniture, the room was quite dark, save for disruptor bolts from the Alth'Indor's security forces as they returned fire. Several disruptor bolts at stun power slammed into the head doors futilely, the tritanium doors far more durable than any humanoid body.
    "Set to 'vaporize!'" Nala called out. The security team acknowledged by increasing their weapons to maximum power output and firing. The disruptor bolts crackled with the sheer amounts of raw power being dumped into each shot. JOW! JOW! JOW! The overcharged blasts of energy seared through the head doors, leaving jagged, glowing orange edged, massive holes in both the doors and the bulkheads next to them.  
    And then there was silence. An eerie, dark silence. Wisps of smoke filled the room, illuminated by tac-lights. The guest quarters stank of burnt flesh and melted metal.
    Nala shifted behind the bed, not ready to give up what little protection it offered.
    "It could be a trap. Scan that head for life! And explosives!" An officer fairly close to the doors bravely reached her arm out, tricorder in hand, to get a better reading.
    "Nothing, sir. The room is empty." Nala got to her feet as she spoke.
    "With me, check it now!" The security forces rushed to form up with her as she sprinted to the head. Their disruptors trained on the door, and still set to vaporize.
    "Get that crow bar over here!" The Centurion barked. A Uhlan ran over in obedience, and pried the broken and disruptor-hole filled doors open. Disruptors still covering the head, the Republic forces moved in, tac-lights flooding the room with a white radiance.      
    But there was no one there. The back wall was singed, with several inch-wide holes burned right through to the next quarters. But there was no body, and no physical evidence that anyone had been vaporized. No ash, nothing. Nala clenched her teeth for several moments of silence before speaking.
    "Where is he? Where's the body? Or evidence of him having been vaporized?" The Centurion cleared his throat, picking at a piece of shattered glass on the floor with his boot, likely from the now destroyed mirror.
    "He's just gone, sir. Tricorders confirm it. As you say, there's no evidence of his having been here, or having been killed here. He's just gone." Subcommander Telth'aven stomped her foot on the floor in frustration, crunching down on shards of glass, and let out an exhausted, angry groan."
"ARRGH! How did he- the personal transporter! Blast it! Blast it! Blast it! Why didn't we secure this area against transporters!" She continued mumbling angrily at herself.      
    "I believe we''re back to where we where before Centurion Deletham contact us, sir." The Centurion commented. Nala shook her head.
    "No. We have less time, a foe who knows us better, and two dead crew members. We're  in a worse position than before.
    Tell the men to keep looking. And advise them that our suspect has just killed two Romulans."  If he's not here, where is he?



 
R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 23:29 Day 2

     Commander Nora'dex was getting increasingly desperate. He's eyes were dilated, his skin was flushed green with fear, and he was running his words together in his haste to escape being turned over to the secret police.  
    Please Commander! Don't hand me over to the Tal Shiar! Please! I have money! How much do you want? I can pay!" Vardok, who had been pacing, asking him the same questions over, and over, and over, again, turned on his heal mid step.
    "You think you can bribe me! Bribe me to prevent justice! How dare you! You are not worthy to be Romulan! You are a selfish, sniveling coward. You are a disgrace to the Empire! I am ashamed to be of the same species as you!" For once, I said something true to him. Nora'dex continued to plead for his life as S'ren kept pacing.
    "Please! Have mercy! Grant me an honorable death! Please don't doom me to die by slow torture! Let me die like a Romulan; as I would do for my enemies. Please. Please don't send to die like so much Republic filth!" S'ren froze. He began to speak, still motionless.
    "Die like a Romulan? As you would do for your enemies? Republic Filth?" Vardok turned and ran for his Imperial prisoner at a full sprint. He tackled the terrified Nora'dex to the deck, and raised his right fist to strike him with all his might. But he stopped before his fist collided with the Commander's torso. I have to be better than this! Better than them! He got to his feet, breathing hard, sweat trickling down his forehead, and shaking with rage. Commander Nora'dex lay on the floor, covering his head with his arms. I could be him. He's everything in me that I fear and hate. And I could have been just like him. I could be just like him. I could be like them.
    D'Avek ran over to check on his Commander.
    "Vardok, are you alright? What happened? Why did you go ballistic back there?" D'Avek had always known S'ren to be a reasonable and self-controlled Romulan. This was completely different from his usual calm, collected self. Vardok shook his head  trying to settle his mind.
    "I don't know, D'Avek. I'm sorry. I... I can't handle this investigation anymore." D'Avek gripped him by the shoulder.
    "Seriously, what happened back there, Vardok?" S'ren tried to push past him and walk towards the door, but D'Avek held him there.
    "I don't want to talk about it, D'Avek. Please... just let me be."  The Commander's eyes were fixed on the floor, avoiding his friend's gaze.
    "Vardok, look at me. Are you alright? What's going on?" Vardok finally looked his first officer in the eyes.
    "For a minute, I was back on Station Alpha."
    D'Avek was about to ask Commander S'ren more, but they heard a scream and spun about one-hundred-eighty degrees, Vardok drawing his weapon, to see one of the Reman guards, standing over Commander Nora'dex, disruptor rifle leveled at the Imperial Commander's chest. Nora'dex begged with the guard.
    "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!" The Reman didn't seem to share this sentiment.
    "Now you die, with the blood of General S'Teveirr and the entire fleet upon your hands!"
    Vardok fired at the Reman. But his energy dampening armor adsorbed the shot. Before S'ren could get off another round, the Reman fired almost point-blank into Nora'dex's center of mass. The disruptor bolt incinerated a hole six-inches across through the Imperial Romulan's chest, obliterating his vital organs and killing him instantly. The blast left his surrounding clothing and flesh badly burned.
    Vardok fired at the Reman again, and again, and a fourth time. The disruptor bolts slammed into the Reman's energy dampening armor and burned the fibers away with each shot, leaving his body exposed to the third and fourth disruptor bolts. These tore through his torso, killing him. His body crumpled to the deck next to the Romulan he had just killed in cold blood.  






OOC
* hyaa-aifv = disruptor
** Head = naval term for bathroom
OOC

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

Locke Highwind closed the weapons hatch on his F-114A Phoenix and moved to the powerplant.  He went over it with a fine toothcomb, while most other fighter pilots let the mechanics take of their ships, the Red Daggers took maintained their own ships.  No matter how rushed you are, when you're responsible for keeping your engine from exploding or keeping the oxygen withing your canopy.

An hour later, he was closing up the access hatch when a familiar voice said "Ho, Locke!"

The pilot turned to face the speaker.

"Ho, Steve!"  Locke replied.  It was Major Steve "Rock" Johnson.  Leader of OMEGA Squad, Captain Johnnyred's personal Marine unit.  "How can I help you?"

"Eh, I was just checkin' out the crew.  You done with your maintenance session yet?"

"Yeah, just finished."

"Sweet.  Let's head down to the Canteen and grab some Dr. Peppers.  The Captain's put Omega Squad and Red Daggers along with the Black Tigers and Adventure Comix off alert.  Most other squads are, and AC and OS are supposed to remained armed at all times and Daggers and Tigers are supposed to have their ships on the standby deck.  the Captain sent secured transmissions to our datapads.  You probably were too tied up in checking your ship over to notice."

"Sounds good." Locke replied as he locked the last bolt into place.  dropping his hand down to his hip, he drew his Auto-9 and checked the energy magazine.  After making sure it was completely charged, he re-holstered the weapon and followed Rock.  "What's going on right now?

Glancing around to ensure that no one was listening in, Rock replied, "The Captain's in a meeting with the PXE officials, I've got Rhys and Gunnar posted inside and the PXE have two guys in hardsuits in with J-red."

"How's the captain doing?"

Rock paused again.  "He's stressed.  A lot.  This is a really tricky situation, and he's the only Council Member with us.  Everything in the mission falls on him.  You can imagine the strain."

"Yeah."  Locke thought for a moment.  It seemed hard to imagine.  Captain Johnnyred was a close and personal friend to both Locke and Steve.  It was hard to imagine him as one of the commanders of one of the most powerful fighting forces in the universe.  That alone was a huge strain.  And on top of that Johnnyred ran his own company, Adventure Comix, much of the profits from said business went to support the PCG.  But on top of those, Johnnyred was now leading an invasion force against the remnants of the Romulan Empire.  It was a very tricky situation.

The two entered the Canteen and walked over to the bar.  "Two Dr. Peppers." Steve ordered to the waiter.

"Comin' right up!"

Glancing around the room for any ease droppers, Steve said.  "The Captain thinks that we're going to have to take the battle planetside, and if so, he said he's going to be leading the fight personally."

Locke thought for a moment. If Captain Johnnyred was going along that either meant that he was bored and itching for some action, or the situation was really bad. In all likelyhood it was the latter. "Think we can trust the other PMCs?"


"I don't know. Daragon gave us some ships with the CEO's personal compliments, J-red and Siriondil are pretty old friends, so despite the fact that the Rommies purchased some DI tech I think that they're on our side. For the most part. Yaka, they're always a mystery but if things get too dire I think we can count on them. If we pay good enough. The Atnlays... no one's heard from them in a while. PXE, no telling. However, they're not going to pull anything funny immediately. At least I hope not. It'd be stupid if they did, they're surrounded by PCG, Romulan, DI, etc."

"What about the Romulans. You think it'll actually come to combat?"

"You know the Romulans. What do you think."

"True. Dang. Why is this mission so much more difficult than the others? We're normally itching for a fight."

"Because of all the subterfuge. There's been sabotage, traitors, secret agendas, etc. We don't know who in the Federation we can and can't trust. Plus, the Romulans are our friends. Even though this is a rogue sector, there's still good men that we're going to be fighting against."

"Dang. This is heavy."

"Yeah." Steve finished the last bit of his drink and put down the money for his and Locke's. "It'll be gametime soon. I should get back to my squad and so should you."

"Right on. I'll have your back in the air."

"And I'll have yours on the ground."

With that, the two exchanged a fist bump and went their ways.

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

IN THE INTEREST OF SPEEDING THINGS ALONG, I AM STEPPING IN AS GAME MODERATOR AND MAKING G-M ADAPTIONS TO THE PLOT. I AM SORRY IF I ALTER ANYBODY'S SUBPLOT IN SO DOING, BUT AS G-M I HAVE THAT PRIVILEGE WHEN THINGS AREN'T MOVING FAST ENOUGH.

THE FOLLOWING IS AN OFFICIAL G-M INTERVENTION AND IT WILL BE CONSIDERED AS ACTUALLY HAVING HAPPENED IN THIS RPG:

As the Sons of Liberty taskforce prepares for its assault on Rator III, Johnnyred finishes an agreement with the PXE, which is thus: in exchange for PXE's services in the assault on Rator III, the PCG will pay the PXE one quarter of the monies that the PCG receives (or hopes to receive) from the Star Empire as payment for war grievances. Although the PXE would indeed rather receive more, they are hoping that, at the very least, they may acquire spoils from Rator III if the assault is a success.

The taskforce enters the warpstream. Within a couple hours, they enter the Rator III system on the capital side of the planet. However, they are shocked to see that the entire Romulan Navy 12th Fleet is waiting for them, far outnumbering the mere few dozen ships the Sons of Liberty force is composed of. It is then that Captain Johnnyred and Commander Turson realize the truth: Smythe led them into a trap. He told them that the Romulans were not expecting an assault on the Capital, when in fact their finest fleet was there waiting for them. The exact size of the 12th Fleet is impossible to estimate, simply because it is not known how many ships may be cloaked. In addition to the 12th Fleet, a sizeable force of MSI and PXE ships--hired by the Empire--are waiting for the taskforce.

A ground invasion of Rator III now seems impossible. Captain Johnnyred is faced with a hard decision (amidst being faced by the obvious threat in front of him): send a small force to the Capital in a desperate, practically suicide mission to somehow capture the Empress in a city already expecting invaders, or abandon the ground assault entirely and try to escape the Rator III system and rendezvous with reinforcements.

But there is not much time for thinking. Alarms are sounding. Shields are being raised. Weapons are preparing for action. Fighter pilots are swarming to their vehicles.

As his entire crew prepares for action, Commander Turson barely whispers:

"Dear God, help us all!"

THE ASSAULT ON RATOR III HAS BEGUN.

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

[OOC. I'd like the opportunity to open comms yo the rommies before the battle starts /End OOC]

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC Wow, I really need to hurry up my subplot.

I'll see if I can combine the two parts tonight; after that, I'll be able to join in and toast some Rommie butt! JK... although I do have a surprise waiting for you...

END OOC

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

OOC
WOOO-HOOO!!!! YES!!!! Wait... I'm a day behind... MUST WRITE! Motivation...rising...
End OOC


R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 23:32 Day 2

The security detail run through the open doors, their tac-lights adding their light to the dim room. They were followed closely by nurse S'Teveirr. Commander S'ren stood completely still, breathing deeply, shoulders hunched over, legs spread wide, disruptor still aimed at where the Reman had stood. The bodies of the Imperial Commander and the servant bodyguard lay side by side on the deck.
D'Avek turned to the security personnel.
"The Reman came out of nowhere and attacked Nora'dex. Vardok shot him. All hostiles are accounted for. We need sickbay up here, now!" The Republic security team came to a stop beside their officers and lowered their weapons, still on the alert. D'Avek tapped his communicator.
"Sickbay. This is Fvara. Medical emergency in the mess hall!" T'nai's voice came back across the line.
"The turbolifts are down. It'll take me a long time to get up there, and I've got a stunned Reman with disruptor burns down here. But I'm on my way. T'nai out." D'Avek was about to turn his attention to his Commander's welfare when the Nurse came forward cautiously; careful not to seem aggressive.
"Sir, I am trained in medicine. Please, let me help them, at least until your doctor gets here." The Centurion nodded yes.
"There's an emergency med-kit on the bulkhead behind you." She ran over to the wall, grabbed the kit, and rushed over and knelt beside the two Imperial casualties. She quickly scanned first Commander Nora'dex, and then the Reman bodyguard.
"They're both dead, sir. The Commander has a massive disruptor hole through his chest, there's absolutely nothing that can be done for him. The guard is almost as bad; multiple severe disruptor wounds to the torso. They're both gone. I'm sorry, sir. I suggest you tell doctor T'nai to stay in sickbay and keep treating his patient; there's no reason for him to run up here." D'Avek tapped his comm again.
"Fvara to T'nai. Do you copy?" T'nai replied, panting
"T'nai. Here. Five more decks. Coming... as fast.. as I can." D'Avek felt guilt about sending the ship's chief medical officer on a wild goose chase from deck to deck, but he didn't want to waste his time when he had another patient.
"T'nai, both persons are dead, none injured. If you have someone wounded down there, I suggest you get back to treating them." The doctor mumbled something about know-it-all first officers and false alarms wasting time before replying.
"Did you say both persons dead? Who died? What happened? Are you sure I'm not needed? What's going on on this ship?" D'Avek was about to tell him that he didn't need to worry, when he saw that Vardok still hadn't moved.
"Actually, Doctor, Commander S'ren could use your attention. I don't think he's physically hurt, but he isn't acting like himself, so don' kill yourself running up here."
"Would you kindly make up your mind? And who died? Honestly... I'm on my way up. T'nai out, again."




OOC
Just a short post tonight. I've been kind of depressed lately, and I'm finding it really hard to get motivated to write, but at least this is a little something.
End OOC

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

30 Minutes 'Till Warp to Rator III:

Johnnyred walked onto the bridge of the PCG Paladin, dressed in full dress reds. "Bob." He said. "Open a comms to the rest of the Sons of Liberty.

"Aye sir."

Johnnyred's image appeared on the vid-comms on all the various ships in the SoL fleet.

"Attention Sons of Liberty task force, this is Captain Johnnyred. We are moments away from warping into the airspace above Rator III, the Romulan Empire homeworld. Our mission is simple. Either capture the Empress or talk the Romulans down into surrendering and handing the Empress over. Of course, you know the Romulans, in all likely hood they will fight back.

We don't know what we're warping into. I have to regret to inform you that we discovered a traitor among us. And unfortunately, he's let the Romulans know what our plans are. We do know that they know we are coming. We don't know for sure if they know when or on what side of the planet. Because of this, we're going in, weapons hot, but no one fire until I give the word. I want to give the Romulans one chance to surrender. Commanders, make final preparation with your crews. Marines and flight crews stay on standby, I want everyone at their posts.

Before we go, I wish to offer up a prayer for safety."

Bowing his head, Johnnyred solemnly says, "Dear Heavenly Father, I pray Lord that you would give us your hand of guiding and protection, help us in our fight for freedom and give us protection in our mission. Without your help Father, we are powerless. In thy holy name, Amen."

Raising his head again, Johnnyred lifts a glass up, and pours Dr. Pepper into it. "Good luck everyone, I drink to all of you, PCG, Romulan, Federation, MSI, Daragon Incorporated, Yaka, and PXE. Fight strong brave soldiers, never give up, never surrender." Johnnyred drinks from the cup. "Commanders, you have your orders. Phoenix Nunquam Intero."

And with that the comm ends.

20 Minutes 'Till Warp to Rator III:

"Uh....Captain... what was I doing again?" Bob asks.

Johnnyred sighs. "Now's not the time for this to happen Bob. I need you to focus. You're working on the vid-comm ship-to-ship sync."

"Oh! Right! I just finished!"

"Are you sure this plan will work, Captain?" Chuck Conway, asks nervously.

"I'm sure, Chuck." J-red replies. "This'll offer us a small advantage. That and the ships waiting at stargates and our Wave Motion equipped ships. It's time for us to get to the command ship."

10 Minutes 'Till Warp to Rator III:

Johnnyred walks into the Dropship hanger aboard his ship. "OMEGA Squad, you ready for this Marines?"

The men of OMEGA Squad snap to attention, "HOO-RAH, SIR."

"That's what I like to here! HOO-RAH." Johnnyred replies. "Adventure Comix, you morons set?"

"You know it!" Blacklight13 replies.

"Joo just say zee vord and ve'll be ready." Arnold replies.

"Right on." Johnnyred replies. "In case you weren't aware, you gentlemen are part of the invasion force on Rator III. The Red Daggers and Black Tigers will be providing us with cover while we fly into Atmo in the D-12's. As soon as we hit the first layer, the Black Tigers will pull out and return to support the fleet, the Red Daggers will stay with us and provide close air support. Saddle up boys, you'll be heading in hot soon."

5 Minutes 'Till Warp to Rator III:

Johnnyred walks into the Red Daggers hanger bay. "Ho, Locke!"

"Ho, Captain!" Locke replies.

"You all ready?"

"Roger sir."

"My F-114B prepared for launch?"

"First on the catapult, sir."

"All right. Keep her there. I"ll be back soon." Turning to the rest of the Red Daggers squadron he says, "Good luck and good hunting, Daggers!"

0 Minutes 'Till Warp to Rator III:

The Sons of Liberty task force warps into the airspace above Rator III.

"Holy Classic Space...." Chuck gasps in shock at the sight of the Romulan fleet in front of them."

"Blast!" Johnnyred yells. "Smythe betrayed us again! At least we were semi-ready this time."

"Captain...." Chuck says. "The invasion... with this many ships, we can't launch a full scale invasion force.

"I know, Chuck, just stick to the plan. We made it specifically for this. Bob, open comms to the Rommies."

"It's open sir."

"Attention fleets of the Romulan Star Empire. This is Captain Johnnyred, commander of the Phoenix Command Group and the Sons of Liberty task force. We are here only to take the Empress to the Federation Council. Stand down now and surrender her to us and no harm will come to you or the Empress. If you attempt to resist, you will fail. You know well the strength of the Phoenix Command Group. Do not toy with us, I have ships equipped with Wave Motion technology standing by, you know what a Wave Motion Gun is capable of. Do not make me use it."

Johnnyred stares at the fleet, steely eyed. "Well, Romulan Star Empire? What is your choice?"

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

The face of a Romulan admiral appears on the screen of the Arondite.

"Captain Johnnyred of the illustrious Phoenix Command Group," the admiral sneers. "I am Admiral Teran of the Invincible 12fth Fleet. I have considered your offer with GREAT seriousness, and am prepared to give you answer."

As if to give Admiral Teran's answer without words, two large Romulan warbirds decloak near the Paladin, and open fire.

"Say your prayers, Captain," Admiral Teran says. "Wave Motion technology or not, you will never destroy the Invincible 12fth Fleet."

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