Title: "First Contact"
Author: Lieutenent Garek Loran
Stardate: 2460252
Earthdate: April 2, 2383
Location: Xenon III
 
<<in Episode 329 "Jailbreak" the time was dated April 10.  However, Episodes 330, and 331 are dated April 2, so, if everyone would please make a mental note to change the date on "Jailbreak" to April 2, I'd appreciate it.
 Thanks.>>
 
Night had come over the Borial camp. Garek sat alone at the outskirts of the camp, around a small fire he had made. He was taking the time to examine the weapon that the Borials had given him to use.
 
It was a combination of a quarterstaff and double edged sword. In the middle of the weapon was a one and a half foot piece of metal, wrapped in a type of leather to hold on to. The ends of the handle were attached to two and a half foot long double edged blades. Each one sharpened to perfection. Garek watched as one of the Borial blacksmiths sharpened the weapon for him to use. Now, Garek faced another dilemma. How to carry this weapon?
 
Garek had watched another man carrying the same type of weapon he had before. Each end of the weapon was put in a leather sheath. Then, it was inserted into a long wooden shaft, which was then capped off. Apparently, it was used as a walking stick while not used in combat.
 
Another Borial explained to him that this weapon was usually only used when they were going into a battle which was planned, like a strike. The warrior usually always wore a sword. Garek was pleased to find out, however, that only the strong men of the group were allowed to use the idej, which they called it.
 
Garek stood, and placed his hands at opposite ends of the handle as his "instructor" of the idej told him. With a quick thrust, he brought the left end of the weapon forward, then he brought the right edge of the weapon up into an arc, bringing it straight down on a log. Removing the idej from the log, Garek smiled. He could get used to using this thing. Hopefully he would be able to keep it after this ordeal was over. He then sheathed his weapon, and sat back down by his fire.
 
One of his pet peeves about this place was the attire. The armor they used was fairly simple, composing of a metal breastplate, and a type of "skirt" composing of a leather, with metal strips attached to it. On their heads, the Borial soldiers wore a type of ceremonial cloth, and then a crafted bronze helmet on top of that. The regular, everyday clothing, however, composed of type of leather "kilt" for males with a cloth lining. A cloth undergarment was worn under the kilt. The female's clothing was very diverse, as opposed to the male's. They ranged anywhere between from what Garek could only describe as a bathing suit, to light weight linen dresses which skirts went up to about the mid thigh area. They obviously wouldn't want to wear anything heavy do to the hot climate of this region. That was the one thing that Garek picked up as he, and the rest of the "Virgos" ended up here.
 
Garek slumped himself up against a tree, and watched the fire burn. One thing that caught his fancy here was the tranquility. Aside from the war that was going on between Borials and the Horde, the land was quiet and serene. Garek heard a moving in the bushes two his right, and quickly unsheathed his idej. Scanning the area in front of him, he noticed nothing. Then he quickly turned to his right, and saw it. A small, three-foot-tall creature.
 
"Away with your weapon. Harm you I won't. Please tell me, who are you?" The creature was, needless to say, strange looking. It was a bipedal creature, with four toes on each foot. Its skin was very dark, probably a blue from what Garek could tell. There were three fingers on each hand, arranged with two fingers positioned where a normal person's index and little finger would be, and the other finger coming out of the "heel" of the hand. The head was proportional to its body with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth positioned just as a Human's would be, and two ears similar to that of a horse sat on top of its head. They twitched from side to side, presumably taking in the different sounds around them.
 
"Why do you ask that?" Garek said, still pointing one end of the weapon at the creature.
 
"Here you are not from. The Borials, you are not like. From where are you, hmm?" The creature looked up attentively.
 
"I'm Garek of the Virgos. I'm not from here." Seeing as though the creature wasn't becoming a threat, he stood the weapon up on one blade like a staff, and then sat down on a rock.
 
"Why then are you here?"
 
"Myself, and my people were...travelers, on a mission of exploration. We then ended up in the Borial camp." Garek was trying to find a viable explanation for why he, and his crewmates where here, trying not to reveal their true selves to another species.
 
"Travelers you are. Warriors you must be. Deliverance you will bring, yes."
 
"Deliverance?" Garek asked, slightly confused by the puzzling little creature.
 
"Yes. Deliverance you help bring from the Horde. Borials bring deliverance they will of our people, from the Horde they must."
 
Garek tried to interpret what the creature had just told him. Finally piecing it together, he then asked, "The Borials are helping to save your people from the Horde?"
 
"Yes. Help they bring. My people, tall, they are not. The Borials, big, they are. Weapons, they have. Freedom, they bring."
 
"Freedom from what?"
 
"Slavery. Worked, we have, for the Horde. Brought, despair, they have, to our people. Deliverance, the Borials will bring."
 
"So, your people are slaves of the Horde, and the Borials have agreed to help you get out of slavery?" Garek hoped he was getting this right.
 
"Yes. Messanger I am. Bring news from slave camps, I must. Borials, I must see."
 
*I'm going to have to bring this guy to the captain.* "What is your name?"
 
"Gori I am."
 
"All right, Gori. Come with me. We're going to go see my leader, and the Borials."
 
Garek started off towards the main part of the camp, with Gori following him, hopping along. Apparently, the main way for his people to move was to hop on their hind quarters. Garek was astonished by one leap that Gori did, where he hopped nearly seven feet.
 
"Gori, do all of your people move by hopping?"
 
"Jump we do. Transportation quick, it is. We walk too, however. Slow, it makes us though."
 
"I see." The two of them made it towards the inner part of the camp.
______________________________________________________
 
Maruu sat with Nori, Lataro, K'Lara and Neklus around another fire in the middle of the Borial camp. They were discussing what would happen in the next couple of days.
 
"The people we are fighting, the Horde, are very cunning, yet savage, people. They are great warriors, especially when it comes to the sea." Neklus started to explain.
 
"Great, Vikings," Maruu said. "Tell me, Neklus, do your people have any boats?"
 
Neklus didn't get a chance to answer. A three-foot-tall blue creature hopped up in front of the group. Nori yelled out slightly, and fell behind Maruu. K'Lara put her head on Jon's shoulder. Maruu drew a sword and pointed it at the creature.
 
"Away with your weapons, I mean you no harm," Gori said.
 
"Relax, Stephen. This is Gori. He is an informant to our tribe." Gori waddled walked over to Neklus and took a seat next to him. Garek followed a second later, with his idej sheathed.
 
"Sorry I'm late, Stephen. Gori's people are excellent leapers." Garek caught his breath, and sat down on an unoccupied log.
 
"I see," Maruu said, sheathing his sword.
 
"My apologies for not explaining before, Stephen. Gori is a type of spy for us. He heads over to the Horde cities and works along with his people to blend in and gather information." Neklus gave Gori a pat on the back.
 
"What do you mean 'works with his people'?" Maruu asked.
 
"I will explain," Neklus started. There, the group sat as Neklus explained the tragedy of what happened to Gori's people, the Aody.
 

Title: "A Vow"
Author: Lt. Commander K'Lara
Stardate: 2460252
Earthdate: April 2, 2383
Location: Xenon III

Lt. Commander K'Lara sat and patiently listened to the story of Gori whom they had just met. To her it looked like something out of a Human's fairy tale. Now, it just looked strange.

Her eyes were fixing to droop, and, although the story was anything but boring, it was because she had a long tiring day. She was ready for a long sleep.

K'Lara looked over to Jon and saw how intreged he was. She sighed and quietly got up. "Excuse me," she said, "It's been a long day and I need sleep. I'm sleeping for two now."

K'Lara smiled at that and rubbed her protruding stomach. She was so glad that it was not harmed during their crash. She wouldn't know what to do if anything happened to the baby. She would have to start taking extra care to keep it safe. Her Telian eyes glowed red as she thought of protecting her baby from their enemies.

"Are you all right, dear?" Jon's concerned voice brought her back to reality. She stared at him for a moment, confused.

"I'm fine, Jon," she finally answered. "I'm just a little tired is all. I think I'm going to bed."

With that, K'Lara walked away still thinking about protecting her child against what ever threat this planet had thrown upon them.

"I'll keep you safe, little one," K'Lara whispered to her baby. "With the strength of my Klingon father and the power of my Telian mother, no one will harm you."
 

Title: "The Horse Marines"
Author: First Lieutenant Johnny Chee
Stardate: 2460252
Earthdate: April 2, 2383
Location: Xenon III

Johnny Chee inspected the remnants of the platoon he had brought with him from the *Ilion*. Once he had commanded a platoon of 32 Marines; the fight with the Kelvans had left him with 15. How many would be
left before this particular piece of nastiness was over was anyone's guess.

Gone were the black and olive-drab uniforms of the Starfleet Marine Corps; instead his men were clad in attire more suited to Rome's legions. More importantly, gone was their 782 gear: the regulation Starfleet weaponry, personal armor, and medical kits which would save their lives in most emergencies. Corporal Ahmed Farouk, the platoon corpsman, would have the roughest time of all; his Starfleet-issue medical tricorder and hypospray having been replaced with a bag containing miscellaneous herbs. Normally unarmed, as a concession to necessity he now wore a short sword. The thought of Farouk carrying a weapon of any type struck Johnny as being almost as absurd as the enormous lances Krag and Zog, the two Ferengi privates in his platoon, were carrying. For a Human the lance would be no longer than a short spear; in the hands of the diminutive but strong Ferengi they looked like nothing less than pikes. Most absurd of all was the tremendous bronze battle
axe Johnny and most of the other Marines carried.

"Marines, I've just been briefed by the captain," he announced. "While it is not ordinarily Federation policy to intervene in local conflicts, an exception has been made in this case due to the unusual situation we find ourselves in.

"We are fighting for a faction known as the Borials against another faction known as the Horde. There is evidence that another race known as the Aody have been enslaved by the Horde and that the Borials are
waging a war of liberation," Johnny continued.  *Or repossession,* he thought. Johnny cringed inwardly as he thought of all of Earth's so-called wars of liberation which somehow ended up producing more slaves than they freed. But he wasn't willing to express that to his men. Or the fact that the survival of the crew depended on their
willingness to fight in this conflict. They didn't need to know that right now.

"Because of our specialized fighting abilities, Captain Maruu and the Borials have requested that we serve as mounted cavalry scouts. Our mission is to provide intelligence, ride picket around civilian areas to guard against Horde skirmishers, and to buy as much time for the Borals and Starfleet personnel who are making up the infantry," Johnny continued. *In other words, we're going to make sure that as many of our people make it out of here alive by taking the sharp end for them,* was the thought that was not and would never be spoken by any
of them.

A group of Borial stablehands led some enormous mounts toward the platoon. Only vaguely equinesque, the mounts resembled nothing less than a cross between a dachshund and a Komodo dragon, only scaled up
to the size of a Clydesdale. Johnny had been informed that the glap'ta were excellent runners but very poor jumpers.

"Now, we all remember from Basic Training how to ride one of these!" Johnny laughed. The troops laughed with him. While equestrian skills were emphasized for Starfleet specialists such as Marines and security personnel who were frequently planetside under primitive conditions, they were rarely put into practice. "The glap'ta have limited telepathic capability, meaning that you can issue very rudimentary commands by thinking them. Just don't make them too complex or you'll confuse them. Normally they're ridden bareback but as a concession to
us the Borials have allowed for Roman-style saddles. These four nubs on the saddle may not look like much, but they will allow you to sit upright and to bend forty-five degrees in any direction. I tried to get us stirrups, but the captain said that that would be too much of a Prime Directive violation. So no jousting, people!" Another chorus of laughter.

"People, I want us mounted up and ready by sundown. I intend to start a night patrol to assess the Horde's capabilities. We will avoid engaging the enemy unless absolutely necessary. This is to be a reconaissance only! By my estimation we have two standard hours before sundown. Anyone who isn't back here by the time the sun makes first contact with the horizon will be put on stable duty! Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the platoon chorused.

"Sergeant Zimasa, dismiss the men and come with me." The Andorian sergeant dismissed the short platoon and followed Johnny over to the yurt-like tent he was using as a headquarters.
___________________________________________________

"You wished to speak with me, Lieutenant?" the Andorian, whose age was starting to show in whiter-than-usual hair, asked.

"Sergeant, I've heard stories about Andorian prowess with low-tech weaponry. How true are they?"

"At least as true as the stories sometimes told of the Vulcans in relation to their fighting arts. Only we don't restrain our emotions," Zimasa responded.

"Good. At least one of us knows what he's doing," Johnny replied.

"Lieutenant, permission to speak freely," Zimasa asked.

Johnny groaned inwardly. Whenever his top sergeant said that, it usually meant something he wasn't going to like. On the other hand, it was more than likely something he needed to hear. As an enlisted man, there was nothing Johnny hated more than the conceited Starfleet officer (usually a lieutenant) who thought he knew everything and heeded no one. Such an officer cost him six months in a Cardassian prison camp and the loss of a molar (among other things).

"Go ahead, Sergeant," Johnny replied. Trusted as Zimasa was in Johnny's eyes, he still wanted to maintain the command relationship.

"If you do not have confidence in your own ability to lead this platoon then I suggest you step out now. These men need an officer who will lead them, not question everything that comes down the path. I've seen you in a fight: you could easily fight one of my people to a standstill with your open-hand fighting. Using hand-to-hand weapons employs many of the same principles.

"That fight aboard the *Ilion* took us from being a company to being a short platoon. As far as officers go, you're all the men have, and they'll follow you before they'll follow anyone from the Fleet. But if you lose your confidence, they'll lose theirs, and that means a lot of letters to grieving clans: if you get my meaning!" Zimasa finished.

"Is that all?" Johnny asked.

"I've said my piece."

"Thank you, Sergeant. There's something I need to attend to. Dismissed."

Zimasa saluted (one of many customs retained by the Marines which the rest of Starfleet had abandoned) and left the yurt.

*Sergeant Zimasa's right,* Johnny thought. *If I can't control my own fears, how can I expect to control the fears of my troops?*

Johnny closed the flap of the yurt and began singing the traditional Enemy Way song to protect his troops in battle. Zimasa, listening outside, nodded to himself. His counsel had had the intended effect.
___________________________________________________

Sundown approached, and Johnny called his men to order. "Okay, gentleman," he said, ignoring for the moment that four of his Marines were female, "Boots and saddles! Let's mount up!"

The column formed up behind Private Zog, who carried the Borial banner, and Sergeant Zimasa. Zog's Ferengi hearing and Zimasa's ability to see into the near infrared made them ideal to ride point; Johnny rode just behind them. Farouk, the corpsman, rode in the center of the column where he would have the most protection and be able to reach anyone in a hurry; Krag, the other Ferengi private, rode tail. Ironically, Johnny had always been a fan of John Wayne's movies of the Ancient West, skewed though their portrayal was against his people and their cousins throughout North America. As they rode out of camp, Johnny wondered what the Duke would have thought of an Indian leading the cavalry to the rescue...
 

Title: "History Lesson"
Author: Lieutenant Benton
Stardate: 2460252
EarthDate: April 2, 2383
Location: Xenon III

Garek asked the little being, "The Borials are helping to save your people from the Horde?"

"Yes. Help they bring. My people, tall, they are not. The Borials, big, they are. Weapons, they have. Freedom, they bring."

"Freedom from what?"

"Slavery. Worked, we have, for the Horde. Brought, despair, they have, to our people. Deliverance, the Borials will bring."
_________________________________________________

"My apologies for not explaining before, Stephen," said Neklus. "Gori is a type of spy for us. He heads over to the Horde cities and works along with his people to blend in and gather information." Neklus gave Gori a pat on the back.

"What do you mean 'works with his people'?" Maruu asked.

"I will explain," Neklus started.

Wait," said Maruu. "If we're going to help you, all my senior people should hear this." He turned his attention to a young crewmember who was sitting near him. "Ensign, run and find the senior staff. Tell them to come to Neklus' campfire."

The young Virgo ran off.

Soon all the *Virgo's* department heads were present. The group sat and Neklus began the tragic tale of what happened to Gori's people, the Aody.
_________________________________________________

For uncounted thousands of centuries, the Aody had lived in the world-spanning forests of Xenon III. Of course, the Aody didn't call their world by that name. Xenon was simply the name this planet's star was given in Federation databanks. The Aody simply called their planet, "the Forest".

There were not many Aody. Perhaps less than one million across the entire planet. They lived in small villages underneath the boughs of the mighty trees of the Forest. They subsisted by harvesting the plentiful grains, vegetables and fruits that grew naturally in the forest glades in the old days. They made cheeses and butters with the milk of several beasts, but ate no meat. The Aody lived in harmony with the animals.

The Aody were a gentle, peace-loving species that lived in harmony with nature, with the Borials, and with each other. The very thought of violence or discord or upsetting the balance of nature was alien to them. Their minds simply could not touch such a foreign concept. All in all, Xenon III, or 'the Forest' was an idyllic paradise. There was very little here that marred the edenic tranquillity.

So, when the first alien spaceship broke through the planetary energy screen and crashed on their planet ten thousand years ago, the Aody welcomed the visitors happily, with open arms. At first, the Visitors were grateful to their small, gentle hosts. The Visitors' ship had been rendered hopelessly non-spaceworthy, so the Visitors depended on the Aody for their survival.

But as the years went by, then the centuries, then the millennia, a change overcame the Visitors. Most of their high technology was ruined in the shipwreck, and the Visitors seemed unable to adapt to a simpler lifestyle. They slowly reverted back to barbarism. They left the ways of peace, and they left the villages of the Aody. They banded together in larger and larger groups, and slowly migrated to the rugged and cold northern seacoast of the land. They built mighty cities of stone and mighty sea ships of wood, and their numbers grew.

But all these ambitious construction projects required hard, backbreaking labor. The Visitors' attention turned back to the Aody, whom they had left so long ago, but this time their regard was not motivated by gratitude.

The Visitors invaded southward in hordes, burning, trampling and slashing the forest as they advanced. They captured thousands upon thousands of Aody. They killed thousands. The Aody didn't resist, how could they? They had no concept of how to implement violence or aggression. The very idea was so repugnant, that they would rather die than harm another living being!

When their initial campaign was over, the Visitors were known by a new name by the surviving Aody. 'The Horde'. Their capitol city was at Stonefist, a formidable fortress.

Some of the captured Aody were put to work in the Horde's coal mines. Their short stature made them excellent miners. Others were used as beasts of burden. Their powerful legs, normally used for leaping great distances, were well suited to pulling heavy loads. Some were conscripted into the lumbering gangs, forced to cut down their beloved Forest to feed the Horde's insatiable ship building yards.

The Aody suffered under these conditions for hundreds of years. The Horde's conquests grew wider and wider as their need for more slaves grew. Eventually, all but the most isolated stands of the Forest were under the Horde's control: and the city of Noran.

Noran was the capitol city of the Borials, and a mighty fortress in it's own right. It stood high on a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean, just as its counterpoint, Stonefist did.

The Borial had taken sides against the Horde in defense of their friends, the Aody. They warred constantly with the Horde, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. They held a small district; the Horde held the planet. Nonetheless, they fought bravely and selflessly. Each and every man had the courage of a hundred. It cost the Horde dearly every time they attacked a Borial position. But each attack weakened the Borials a little more.

Eventually, only the city Noran remained standing of all the Borial cities. It seemed only a matter of time before the Borials fell altogether and the Horde completely conquered this once-beautiful planet.

But just when all seemed lost, the Borials found a new source of hope. Kalmar, one of the Borials' gods, promised help for the beleaguered Borials and Aody. As a result, the Borial defenses solidified, and they were even able to go back on the offensive. The Horde was slowly being beaten back.

Although, the Aody couldn't actively resist, they *were* able to form elaborate webs of informants and spies within the walls of the Horde cities, especially in Stonefist. They seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to gather and pass on information. Through the use of special volunteers like Gori, this information would eventually find its way to Noran.
_________________________________________________

At this point, Neklus paused in his narrative. Throughout it all, no one had interrupted, all the Virgos had been mesmerized by the gripping story.

Gori broke the silence with his gravely voice, "Yes. The past, this way it was. Long ago. Tragic, very tragic, it was." His voice trailed off.
 

Title: "Labor Pains"
Author: Commander Jonathan Lataro
Stardate: 2460252
Earthdate: April 2, 2360
Location: Xenon III

The life story of Gori was being told entertainingly as was any campfire story. Lataro sat and listened intently trying to find out what was going on. He didn't really understand what was happening nor did he understand why these gods were finding it necessary to have the crew of the *Virgo* fight this war. At any rate, he was at the captain's side, and he said they were, therefore they were. Suddenly, K'Lara leaned over to Lataro, but he didn't notice.

"Excuse me," she said to the crowd. "It's been a long day and I need sleep. I'm sleeping for two now."

Lataro noticed that there was a slight vacant look coming from her. "Are you all right, dear?" Jon's concerned voice brought her back to reality. She stared at him for a moment, confused.

"I'm fine, Jon," she finally answered. "I'm just a little tired is all. I think I'm going to bed."

With that, K'Lara walked away, Lataro's eyes following her as she walked out of range of the campfire and disappeared into the darkness. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I think that I am going to turn in as well. After all, we have a long day a head of us," Lataro said standing up brushing bits of dirt and sand from his clothing.

"Okay, Jon. Meet me over at Neklus's hut at daybreak," Maruu said.

"No problem cap...Stephen," Lataro said with a smile. It just didn't seem right to call him Stephen in front of the troops.

Lataro left the campfire and caught up with K'lara who was walking slowly. She hadn't gotten too far, and, as a matter of fact, as Lataro got closer he noticed that she was propped up against a hut, holding her stomach. "K'Lara. Are you okay?" K'Lara's face had an expression of intense pain. She was doubled over moaning. Immediately it hit him. She was having labor pains. Interestingly enough, the cool exterior of the *Virgo's* First Officer melted away. Now expressions of panic came over his face. "K'Lara. You okay? Um... Here sit down, no come on lets try to get you some...no not that," Lataro began to panic. He didn't know what to do. With a bleeding wound, broken bone, even a severed limb, he was cool and was in control, but, now, his wife was in labor with his child. What was he do to do? K'Lara turned to him and flashed her eyes at him, grabbed his shirt, and in the most deepest guttural voice said, "GET DANA!" and let out a moan.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?!" Lataro said as he put K'lara on the ground and ran as fast as he could to the campfire. At the campfire, Stephen and Dana were laughing as Gori told his jokes and amusing stories. Lataro ran quickly and as he neared the fire tripped on a log and landed face first. Neklus and Gori saw that and burst in roaring laughter. "Captain! Doctor!" Lataro tried to say as he blew dirt from his mouth and gasped for air.

"Jon, that is Stephen and..."

"K'Lara is having the baby!" Lataro screamed.

"What?!" Dana said, jumping up.

"Come on," Lataro said as he got up and grabbed Dana's arm and pulled her along. He ran quickly with Dana in tow followed closely by Neklus, his wife and Stephen. When they got there K'Lara laid there moaning breathing heavily. "Dana please do something for her!!! She is in pain!!! Come on!!! Do something please!!! Her screaming!!! Make it stop!!!"

Lataro's mouth was running a mile a minute. He was panicking. Immediately Dana kneeled along side K'Lara to help her and see what she could do.

"Dana, is she going to be all right?!".

"Jon. Quiet!" Dana looked over at Stephen who was smiling. He had never seen his First Officer in such a state, and it was quite amusing.

"Stephen," began Neklus, "is this Jon's first child?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Neklus walked over to Lataro who was hopping around from side to side making Dana extremely nervous. Neklus approached Jon and smiled; Jon returned the smile. Suddenly Lataro felt a sharp pain as the small log broke against his head. Lataro was knocked unconscious, and Neklus now held one half of the broken log. He turned to Maruu. "This, my friend, is what we do for all first time fathers." On the ground, Lataro was out cold.