Title: And the Truth Shall Set You Free
Author: Lieutenant Jenara Tomme
Stardate: 2460658
Earthdate: August 28, 2383
Location: USS Virgo

Jenara stretched out on the bed, on her side. Her stomach, now much larger, made lying any other way very uncomfortable. However, this also seemed to make her daughter much more active. She was six months pregnant, and so far, though there had been complications, she loved to feel this child grow within her. She had now become accustomed to the questions she was asked, though they still made her uncomfortable, but her condition was so apparent now that she would have been a fool to not expect them. The most difficult was, of course, who the father was. It brought up the memories of the abduction and tests. So far she just hadn't had the nerve to conduct a DNA scan on the baby. But there was no mistaking that the baby had one of two fathers. With a sigh, she gently caressed her stomach. She took a glance and her room and her gaze rested on her closet. Her Starfleet uniform hung by itself except for a few other pieces of clothing that were more suited to
her current condition. The regular Starfleet uniform had proved most uncomfortable as her abdomen grew. So she had been given the clearance to wear more appropriate clothing. As it was, she wore a soft, lavender,
trapeze blouse over matching pants. She constantly had her hair pulled up, since she was always hot. Just as she was about to doze off, her com badge chirped.

"Major Chee to Lt. Tomme," she heard.

Quickly she tapped it. "Tomme here," she replied.

"Would you mind meeting me in my quarters. I have something I need to discuss with you... privately."

For a moment she was struck silent. She never liked the sound of statements like that, but she had the definite impression from him that it wasn't something that was truly serious. But there was something. "I'm on my way,"
she replied.

Slowly, she got to her feet, so as not to make herself dizzy. Quickly, she checked herself in the mirror and seeing that she still looked decent, she headed out the door to Johnny's quarters.
__________________________________

It took her a few minutes to reach his quarters, but once at the door, an odd sensation hit her. However, for the first time, she couldn't tell what was causing it. Usually, her telepathic and empathic abilities with Johnny were unmatched, but tonight, things were different. Was something wrong with her, she wondered? Was it another side effect of the pregnancy? Fighting her concern, she tapped the sensor. As the door slid open, she took a step inside, but it was rather dark.

"Johnny?" she called out.

Suddenly, the lights came on and she was surrounded by smiling faces shouting, "SURPRISE!!!" She heard the sound of a holoprojection being taken and knew the look on her face must have revealed just how surprised she truly was. Then everyone started singing happy birthday to her as Johnny approached her carrying a single red rose.

"Happy Birthday, Jenara," he said, leaning in to kiss her gently.

A smile lit her face as she looked into his dark eyes. "Thank you," she replied, "How did you know it was my birthday? I know I didn't tell you." Her green eyes sparkled brightly.

"I had a little help," he said, turning to look at a friendly face.

As Jenara's gaze followed, she saw Kalmar step forward. "So you are the coconspirator," she giggled.

"Guilty as charged," he replied. "I thought you could use a celebration."

"Thank you," she said, stepping toward him to plant a kiss on his cheek and then returning to Johnny's side. "Thank you, both of you." Then her eyes scanned the room, looking at all the faces of her friends and co-workers. "And thank all of you for coming!"

"Then let the party begin!" Kalmar smiled.
__________________________________

The evening was filled with wonderful conversations, good food, and even a few presents. And yet, Jenara felt unsettled. Among the guests were Commanders Lataro and Benton. She considered them both friends as well as co-workers, but since her pregnancy and the resurfacing of the memories surrounding her pregnancy, she had a difficult time facing them. She knew what she had been forced to do, and though she understood that the
circumstances were beyond her control, it made her feel no better. Her actions as a slut were ingrained into her memory and would be forever. It would always be a part of her that she would be ashamed of.

For most of the evening, she had managed to avoid direct conversations with both of them. However, it was becoming obvious to them that she was indeed avoiding them. Benton was the first to pick up on it.

Jenara had been getting another cup of punch and she had just been about ready to reach for a wonderful looking hors d'oeuvre, when she had glanced him approaching her. Swiftly, she managed to walk away and enter a conversation going on not more than three steps from the table. Later, the same thing happened to Jon Lataro with K'Lara at his side. K'Lara and Jon had exchanged puzzled looks, but said nothing. However, when Jenara noticed Jon and Benton both speaking together, she got the definite impression that she was going to be double teamed shortly and politely excused herself from Johnny and a few of the other guests that were engaged in an animated discussion about a new holodeck program. Swiftly, she slipped into Johnny's bedroom and sat down on the bed. She had a sinking feeling that no matter what, she was going to be confronted, and what she had to tell them, they might not want to hear. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Suddenly, she felt the rhythmic movements of her baby. Her daughter was having the hiccups, which brought a smile to her face.
__________________________________

Johnny saw Jenara leave the party, and started to go to her.  Kalmar stopped him.  "Not just now," he said.  "This is something she needs to do for herself."
__________________________________

"What am I going to do, little one?" she asked, more to herself that to her unborn child.

"What are you going to do?" asked a voice from the entryway. As she turned around, she saw both Jon and Benton gazing at her with concern.

"I was expecting you both," Jenara said with resignation and a sigh.

"It's come to our attention that you're trying to avoid us," Benton explained. "We were wondering about the reason."

Jenara's eyes hit the floor for a few seconds. How could she explain this, she wondered. As her green gaze returned to them, tears were misting them.

"Remember the transporter accident? I found out I was pregnant then... Well, I hadn't known what happened, or how I had become pregnant, but I thought it had something to do with that accident... Well, in some respects I was right..."

They both looked at her puzzled. "What are you getting at?" Lataro asked.

"That was no transporter accident... We were actually taken hostage by an alien race. They conducted all kinds of tests on us. In fact, they had us for over three weeks. They can manipulate time. So when they were done with us, they erased our memories and sent us back as if nothing serious had happened. That's where I became pregnant."

"If they wiped our memories, then how can you know what happened?" Benton asked.

"Tiadara," she replied. "She warned me that I might not want the memories, but I had to know what happened. I had to know whose child I was carrying."

"Did you actually find out?" Lataro asked, with a sick feeling building up in his stomach. He didn't like where this was going. Putting two and two together, was not pleasant.

Trembling, she gazed at Benton and then at Jon. "One of you two is the father. We... were manipulated into procreating so they could observe how it was done," she replied, practically choking on anger and pain at the words and the memories. "I... was made into a... slut." With that, the tears came unabated. She had been dealing with these feelings for so long, and trying to hide it from these two men, that the floodgates opened.

"It would have been the Benton from the alternate universe," the Benton from this universe explained, "But if this child is his, he's mine. Responsibility has to be taken." He went to her and offered her something to dry her tears with.

Jenara shook her head. "No, because if the child is yours," she said gazing at Lataro with intense concern," I couldn't and wouldn't ask you to acknowledge the child at the expense of your marriage to K'Lara. After all,
you don't have any memories of this at all, and you wouldn't want them." Again the tears came.

Neither man knew what to do, when suddenly, another figure entered the room. It was Kalmar, worry covering his face.

"What? The birthday girl crying? We can't have that." he said. Immediately, he went to her, took a seat beside her on the bed and touched her shoulder.  "It's the memories again."

She nodded. "I can't ask them to take on the responsibility of this child. To possibly ruin their lives."

"But who is the father?" Jon asked. "Have you done a DNA scan?"

Jenara shook her head. "I couldn't bring myself to do it. What would I have said to either of you once it was done?" Finally the tears began to slow as the resignation of her situation truly set in.

"I know who the father is," Kalmar replied.

All heads snapped up and looked at the god intensely.

"Who is it?" Jenara asked weakly, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"Yours, Commander," he replied, looking at Jon with intensity.

For a moment, Jon almost appeared to lose his balance before regaining his posture. The news hit him hard. "I... will have to tell K'Lara..."

"NO!" Jenara replied without thought. "You can't! After that misunderstanding that almost drove you two apart, I can't have you do that. I won't ruin your life. You have another child to consider! T'Lan!"

"But who's going to take responsibility for this child?" he asked, feeling as if his honor was somehow on the line.

Benton knew he had to do the chivalrous thing, but before he could speak up,

another voice came from the doorway. "I will." It was Johnny Chee. "I'll take responsibility. I'd always planned to anyway."

Kalmar stood and let Johnny take his place, so that he could hold her as tears started flowing anew. But this time, of relief. The truth was finally known by those that needed it, and a solution had been found.

Jon stepped toward her. "I hope you don't mind if I watch your daughter grow up. It would mean a lot to me," he said, knowing that she was adamant about not ruining his marriage. It would be up to him if he ever told his wife.

As Jenara turned to him, she smiled, "Maybe you and K'Lara would like to think about being my daughter's godparents."

He nodded with a tender smile.

Suddenly, another guest appeared in the bedroom entryway. "Has the party migrated into here?" asked a female voice. It was K'Lara.

"No," Kalmar interjected quickly as no one knew what to say, "Jenara was suddenly feeling a little queasy and we all ended up in here to check on her. After all, she is the guest of honor!"

Jon immediately went to his wife and kissed her. "Do you know how much I love you?" he said.

Jenara smiled, and for the first time since her pregnancy, she felt truly free. No more burden of who the father was, what she was going to do, or anything. Everything, for the moment, was solved. It was the best birthday
present she could have asked for. The memories that surrounded the actual pregnancy would take time for her to deal with, but now that she knew no lives were going to be ruined by this child, she felt she could finally
heal.

As K'Lara and Jon left the room, Benton kneeled on one knee before her. "If there is anything that you do need, don't hesitate to ask me," he said.

"Thank you, Benton," she replied with a genuine smile, "and I promise I won't avoid you anymore!"

"Good." With a smile and a nod, he stood and left.

"I think I'll go see how the rest of the guests are faring," Kalmar said, excusing himself and leaving Johnny and Jenara alone.

"I can't believe how much better I feel now." She smiled. "This has been a wonderful party."

"Is there anyway I can make it any better?" he asked.

A sparkle entered her eyes. "Maybe." She giggled, "But I think we'll need to wait until the party's over," she replied.

With that, he kissed her. Kalmar watched from the entryway with a smile on his face.
 

Title: "Mission of Mercy" (Part 1 of 4)
Author: Major Johnny Chee
Stardate: 2341044
Earthdate: January 16, 2264
Location: USS Enterprise

Captain James T. Kirk had just settled into his first week as captain of the Enterprise when he was called upon to witness a tragedy of the first magnitude. It was he who was on duty when the distress call came in. "Incoming distress signal, Captain. This one sounds very bad," Lieutenant Uhura informed him.

"I'll be the one to assess that, Lieutenant," Kirk replied. At this point, the famed bridge crew of the original Enterprise had not yet established its legendary cohesiveness and intrinsic trust of one another. Nonetheless, Uhura patched the distress signal through to the main viewscreen. "I've boosted the signal as much as I can, sir."

A flickering, static filled image of a woman filled the screen. In the background were sounds of battle and screams of agony.

"This is First Minister Tylara of the Tanzaran Republic. We request Federation assistance! We are under full-scale attack by an unknown force! A biological weapon has been used which has destroyed most of our population, and enemy forces have landed! Your assistance is urgently requested!"

The message repeated. And repeated.

"This is probably a recorded message. We've had preliminary contacts with the Tanzarans: they are a warp-capable civilization and have directly requested our assistance. All hands to yellow alert! Mr. Sulu, lay in a
course for the Tanzaran system, maximum warp. Give me an estimated time of arrival."

"Laying in course at 304 mark 7, sir," Sulu replied. "Estimated time of arrival is eight hours."

"Are there any ships closer to that position?" Kirk asked.

Ensign Jorgenson at Tactical, the post which would someday be occupied by the famous Pavel Chekov, replied: "No other Federation assets are closer than 24 hours at top speed. A Klingon vessel is 12 hours away and appears to have diverted."

Uhura added, "The message is also being broadcast to the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire, and another group referred to as the Cardassian Union." The Federation had not yet made contact with the Cardassians, but Starfleet's history with the Klingons and Romulans was well-established and none too peaceful.

"Inform Starfleet Command of our intentions, Lieutenant. We've got a rescue to perform!"

"Captain, if I may, given the current diplomatic situation it would be logical to contact the Klingon vessel and notify them that we are also responding. The Tanzaran Republic is in disputed territory," Spock replied.

"Well, if logic so dictates then perhaps we should place another call," Kirk answered, still trying to establish a working relationship with his first officer. "Lieutenant, send a message to the Klingon vessel and let them know
we're coming. Be very specific that this is a rescue mission only. Send out the message in Romulan as well, and if we have enough of this Cardassian language in the database send them a message too. No need to start a war when there's already one going on."

Moments later, a response: "Put it on screen."

The fearful visage of a Klingon commander appeared. "This is Commander Kor of the Klingon Imperial vessel Vengeance. We are also orchestrating a rescue effort for the brave Tanzaran people. While we are loathe to admit any weakness it is our considered opinion that the Federation is substantially better-prepared for such an effort than the Empire is currently. Your entry into our rightful space for this purpose only is permitted pending further dialogue between our governments. We will be monitoring you, however. Do not deviate from your stated mission or you will pay grievously."

Then the transmission ended.

"Captain, Starfleet Command has authorized us to enter the Tanzaran system. The Klingon ambassador has been informed and the Klingons have agreed to allow up to six Federation vessels to participate in relief efforts.
Yorktown, Saratoga, and Constitution have already been diverted," Uhura reported.

Good to know the Klingons are at least trying to cooperate. Then again, biological weapons aren't their style; why kill perfectly good slaves? Kirk thought.
________________________

Eight hours later was eight hours too late. The attacking vessels were on their way out as the Enterprise was entering the Tanzaran system.

"Captain, sensors indicate twenty-five medium-sized vessels leaving the system at warp eight. The configuration does not match anything in our databases. They appear to be chasing a Tanzaran warp transport which is
heavily damaged," Jorgensen reported.

"Hail the fleet, Uhura," Kirk ordered. "Mr. Sulu, intercept the Tanzaran transport." Then, to the intercom: "Bridge to Dr. McCoy: is Sickbay prepared to receive casualties?"

["McCoy here. What kind of damn fool question is that? Of course we're prepared for casualties! Cargo Bay Two has been set up as a triage, and we can open an emergency ward in the shuttle bay if necessary,"] the irascible ship's doctor replied. One thing which Kirk had learned in his first week was that Leonard McCoy was not a man with whom to trifle; abrasive though he was, he was also universally loved and respected by the
crew. And, by all accounts, a superior physician despite his affected "country doctor" persona.

"Thank you, Doctor, that will be all. Bridge out," Kirk replied.

"Hailing frequencies open, sir," Uhura reported.

Okay, this is game time: one starship against a fleet of unknown raiders. Can you handle this, Jim? Kirk thought to himself.

"Attention unknown vessels: this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets. You are attacking a civilian vessel of a planet friendly to the Federation..."

The Enterprise shook to the impact of an energy weapon to its shields.

"So much for talking. Red alert! Mr. Scott: what's our status?"

["Shields are doon thairty paircent, sair! We canna take this kind o' a beatin' fer long!"]

"Hostile vessels are attempting to englobe the Enterprise and the Tanzaran vessel, Captain," Spock reported.

"Mr. Scott, beam everyone we can off that ship. Use the cargo transporters if necessary. Give me maximum warp on my mark. Mr. Jorgensen, arm ten photon torpedoes. When I give you the word, eject, but do not fire, them from the aft torpedo tubes."

"Sir? What do you have in mind?" Jorgensen asked.

Kirk was about to rebuke the young officer for questioning his orders, but thought differently. "A roach motel, Ensign. A twentieth-century device for eliminating common vermin. We're using the Tanzaran ship as bait. The
raiders will check in, but they won't check out!" Besides, by not firing the torpedoes, we give the Klingons less diplomatic leverage against us.

["Two hundred an' fifty souls beam'd aboard, sair! What a wretched lot they are, too! Dr. McCoy and his people are already headin' to th' cargo bay,"] Scotty reported.

"Very good. Mr. Jorgensen, eject the torpedoes. Mr. Scott: maximum warp now!!!"

The ship lurched forward. Five of the vessels converged upon the hapless Tanzaran transport... and the torpedoes-cum-mines detonated! The vessels soon vanished, leaving behind secondary debris which damaged most of the rest.

"Remaining ships are leaving at Warp 12.5," Spock replied, raising an eyebrow at the (then) impossible velocity figure.

"I guess they aren't quite as tough when they encounter someone who can fight back. Are they retreating toward the Klingons?" Kirk asked. Spock shook his head.

Too bad... I would have liked to have seen these bastards pay a little more for what they've done, Kirk thought. As warlike as the Klingons were (and prided themselves on being), they abhorred the needless destruction of entire populations and civilizations as wasteful. Better to leave behind survivors to provide tribute and slaves for the Empire!

"Continue on course to the Tanzaran system. Maintain red alert. Mr. Spock, you have the con," Kirk ordered as he left for Sickbay.
________________________

"I've never seen anything like it, Jim. Humans haven't used anything this virulent since the Eugenics Wars," McCoy told Kirk as he arrived at Sickbay. A Tanzaran girl who appeared to be about four years old sat on a diagnostic bed, an exam gown replacing the rags she had been wearing when rescued. "From the samples I've taken from this child, it appears to be derived from a local virus which affects Tanzarans in much the same way tuberculosis affects humans: lesions and pustules to the lungs and bones. Except it acts about five hundred times faster! Death comes in days or even hours! I was able to derive a vaccine and a curative, but even with the Klingons helping we'll never reach all of the survivors in time."

"What are the preliminary estimates on the number of dead?" Kirk asked.

"The planet had a population of 1.6 billion. Over a billion have died from the virus alone! Many more were killed in actual combat. One of the older refugees informed me that the government actually started to use thermonuclear weapons on infected cities to stop the plague. That may be the only reason why there are still around 450 million survivors: mainly children. But this plague is there to stay, and with nearly all of the Tanzarans' infrastructure gone, we'll never get to everyone," McCoy replied. "Even if we could get rid of the plague entirely, there's still a lot of other problems: other diseases which are bound to show up on a planet full
of rotting corpses, lack of clean water, inadequate food supply... the list goes on and on! The Tanzaran lifespan is many times longer than a Human's, and they mature proportionately. They're not like Vulcans, who reach
adolescence about when we do and go on to live up to 250 years. We're talking about a population which will be infants for decades!"

"My God," Kirk replied. "We'll never get to all of them. These... children... are doomed!" Kirk exclaimed.

"Jim, please... she may not know what we're talking about, but she's aware of the mood in the room," McCoy admonished the captain as he pointed to the child on the bed.

Kirk approached the little one, crouching down to her level and smiling. "Hey little one, what's your name?"

The Tanzaran girl looked him in the eye and responded, almost in a whisper. "My name's Jenara. Have you seen my mommy and daddy? Are the bad people coming back?"

Kirk struggled to hold back the tears. He'd been on relief missions before, but never, ever anything like this. "I promise you, Jenara: the bad people are not going to come back. Not if we can do anything about it."
________________________

Even with the combined resources of the Federation and the Klingon Empire, providng relief to the Tanzarans proved to be an extremely taxing proposition. Between the six Starfleet vessels which did respond to the crisis and were permitted to enter putative Klingon space, about 10,000 Tanzarans, nearly all children, were evacuated to Earth, Vulcan, and other Federation worlds.

The Klingons took advantage of the situation to occupy the world once known as the Tanzaran Republic, a move to which the Federation conceded because, quite frankly, if the Klingons wanted a plague-infested world populated by starving children they were more than welcome to it. Eventually, however, the Klingons learned that the plague was also transmissable to their race. The first generation of Klingon personnel to serve on Tanzaria became infected and suffered genetic damage resulting in odd-shaped growths of bone throughout their bodies, but especially in their skulls. As with any warrior society, Klingons regard wounds of any sort as a sign of valor. These warriors were able to take many wives, and soon all Klingon warriors clamored for service on the world they calld tanSar'gan. After three or four generations the mutant gene had propagated itself throughout Qo'noS and many of the other principal Klingon worlds. To say that a Klingon "has the ridges of a warrior" is more than a high compliment: it's an acknowledgement of his or her ancestry. The original  appearance of the Klingon race (very similar to Humans, except with swarthy skin and vaguely Asiatic features) gradually gave way to the appearance seen in modern times: a fearsome face with heavy bony ridges. Eventually, however, after the destruction of Praxis, the Klingons were forced to abandon tanSar'gan, leaving the world to its own devices.

As for why Klingons won't discuss the matter with outsiders? What self-respecting Klingon would ever admit that his ancestors participated in a mission of mercy?
 

Title: "Mission of Mercy" (Part 2 of 4)
Author: Major Johnny Chee
Stardate: 2460707
Earthdate: September 15, 2383
Location: USS Virgo/Alara II-3

"Chief Science Officer's Log: Stardate 60707. Long-range sensor scans indicate the presence of a warp signature in the Alara system. Alara II-3 is a Class-M moon roughly the size of Earth orbiting a gas giant primary. The *Virgo* previously visited this area but detected no visible signs of civilization. A sentient race was discovered, but this race is somewhere between AA and A on the Planetary Development Scale: no use of fire, very crude tools, and extremely limited language capabilities, not unlike genus *Australopithecus* of Earth's prehistory. Warp capability is as far removed from the Alarans as the Q Continuum is from the Federation's civilization. Either this race is evolving far more rapidly than we had originally assumed, or another civilization has also made contact with them.

"Commander Lataro, Lieutenant Commander Benton, and myself are to beam down to the surface of Alara II-3 and observe the situation firsthand. This will be my last away mission as the baby is due any week now."
____________________________

Lataro, Benton, Jenara, and Ensigns Danforth and Valparaiso beamed down to the surface of Alara II-3 near a grotto known as a gathering place for the hominids who populated the moon world. Nothing seemed to have changed from the previous visit a little more than half a year earlier. Jenara opened up her tricorder and scanned the area while Benton and the two ensigns fanned out looking for any signs of technology more advanced than sharpened sticks.

"How are you doing, Jenara?" Lataro asked.

"This scan seems significantly different than the last scans of this area. Something's changed but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"How are *you* doing?" Jonathan asked once again.

"Oh. Everything's fine. I won't be able to use the transporter much longer for safety reasons, so I'm glad to get out of the lab for a while. According to Dana the baby's doing just fine," Jenara replied. Since the incident three weeks earlier at her birthday party Jenara felt much more at ease dealing with both Benton and Lataro.

Suddenly the tricorder started to alarm. "Commander, I'm picking up an ion trail! Something passed through here really fast not long ago."

Just then Lataro's com badge chirped. ["Benton to Lataro. There's something I think you need to see just over this ridge,"] Benton reported.

"On my way," Lataro replied. Jenara and Lataro moved westward toward the ridge. Upon cresting it, they saw what had Benton so concerned.

A small band of the Alaran hominids lay convulsing on the ground. Two infants were already dead, but their mothers seemed not to know this. The cries of all the primitive hominids were mournful and pitiful, as if they
were trying to cry out for relief to gods they had not yet discovered for themselves using words they could not form.

Jenara scanned the band with her tricorder. "These individuals appear to be suffering from a massive systemic infection. It's extremely virulent and propagating rapidly! It doesn't appear to be native to this planet. The amino acids are all wrong."

Lataro produced his own tricorder and began scanning, but was cut short by a loud ripping sound. A huge triangular vessel shot low across the sky at them, trailing a fine mist behind it. The three of them ducked.

"My scans show there to be five individuals aboard that craft, and none of them are one of these," Lataro responded, pointing to the sickening hominids.

"Sir, that mist the vehicle was trailing appears to be composed almost entirely of virus. The virus is identical in amino acid content to the one we see in the hominids."

The three officers looked at one another. Only one possible conclusion existed.

Lataro tapped his com badge. "Lataro to Captain Maruu. We have some fairly significant evidence of biowarfare experimentation on this moon. Not thirty seconds ago an aircraft passed overhead on a line laydown, and Ms. Tomme has identified the laydown as a virus not native to the system."

["Transmit your findings to the *Virgo* and stay on station. It appears that someone else has decided to violate the Prime Directive. The vehicle which passed over your position has now achieved orbit and is attempting to
rendezvous with the warp capable vehicle we detected. Medical assistance will be available shortly. Captain Maruu out."]

"Okay, then, we sit tight," Lataro instructed the team.
____________________________

Two hours later another craft performed a line laydown. By that time, Dr. Nori's team was ready to do what it could to correct the abuses of another race, while Captain Maruu had been trying to raise the unknown vessel
without success. Oddly enough, the configuration of the vessel was similar to something he'd read about at the Academy.

"*Virgo* to landing party. We are now in position. Prepare for transport," the Captain ordered.

The five crew members on the planetary surface assembled for transport. Lataro entered the coordinates in his tricorder and sent them to the Transporter Chief. Five vanished from the surface of the planet. Only two showed up on the pads. Ensigns Danforth and Valparaiso.

"What happened to the others?" the captain asked.

"We honestly don't know, sir!" one of the ensigns responded. "Suddenly, they just vanished."

Maruu tapped his com badge. "Maruu to all hands. All department heads are requested in my office for a meeting at 1630 hours today!" With that, Maruu left the command chair and entered his ready room.

Something looked like it didn't belong (or belonged perfectly, depending on one's perspective). Maruu consulted the ship's computer.

"Computer, correlate the findings of the away team with Federation databases. Does the aircraft seen at the planet's surface correlate with any known configurations?" Maruu asked.

<The aircraft seen in the atmosphere's lower levels is identical to those used during the invasion of Tanzara in January 2261.>

*This is looking more ominous by the minute!* the Captain noted to himself.
 

Title: "Mission of Mercy" (Part 3 of 4)
Author: Major Johnny Chee
Stardate: 2460707
Earthdate: September 15, 2383
Location: USS Virgo

"Okay, we need answers. Who are these people, where did they come from, and why did they attack a population who had absolutely no hope of organizing any kind of meaningful resistance?" Captain Stephen Maruu asked. In the conference room with him were Lieutenant Commander K'Lara Lataro, Lieutenant Commander Dana Maruu, Lieutenant Jennifer Antilles, Lieutenant JG Alysa Sinclair, Ensign Francesca Milano, and Major Johnny Chee. Kalmar was also asked to participate should he have any insights on the invaders.

"The medical scans of the hominids on the planet indicate a virus very similar to human tuberculosis or Klingon *HuH SuSDeq'qIvon*, or lung slime, has been used. It appears to be propagating at roughly five hundred to one thousand times the usual rate for such diseases. Based on what we know of the evolution of other races, tubercular diseases were major killers at this point in evolution. In fact, humans never fully overcame tuberculosis until after the Eugenics Wars," Dana explained. "This virus is not native to the system; the evidence Jenara was able to transmit to the ship showed at least seven amino acids which are not present in this planetary system except in trace quantities, and which play no role in the Alaran physiology. However, the virus appears to be specifically geared to the Alarans' bioreceptors. It is my considered medical opinion that someone is deliberately trying to exterminate this race."

"But why? They can't even make *fire*, much less a warp drive or a phaser! What threat could they pose?" the captain asked.

"On our last visit, the bioscans of the Alarans indicated the development of specialized glial cells which could one day make them superior telepaths. The glial cells are the cells which line the dendrites of all neurons.
Vulcans, Betazoids, Tanzarans, and all other telepathic races have very specialized glial cells which boost the power of neural transmissions so others may receive them under certain circumstances. Certain humans, Ferengi, and others have somewhat weaker capabilities; only the Klingons have no history or record of enhanced mental abilities at any point in their evolution, but that may be because they've never adequately studied the problem. Right now the Alarans don't have the mental development for it (the mean Alaran brain volume is around 450 cubic centimeters) but in another five million years they'll be at least as powerful as the Organians," Francesca reported. "It seems like a stretch, but perhaps the raiders represent a race who would like to stop a potential threat before it starts."

"Five million years is a bit of a stretch for some races, but Bajor had an advanced and enlightened civilization when humans were not much farther along than the Alarans," the captain replied. "No offense, of course. But we
could be potentially dealing with a race for whom such a time frame is relatively close enough to present a threat. Kalmar, you're our resident expert on ancient races. What do you think?"

Kalmar paused for a moment. "Pharox. He is behind this. He never acts directly, but instead operates through other races. You saw this with the Visitors at Xenon III, whose benign efforts as missionaries were perverted to serve an agenda of domination. Neither race is aware of this, and will not be for several thousand more years, but the Borials and the Aody are both latent telepaths. In fact, less than 10,000 years ago these races had
developed the telepahic abilities they now lack. Like the technology and civilization they once had, their telepathic ability has been lost, but it will come again. Ask not more on this issue for we will return to the present one. Pharox is extremely efficient: he will never use more force than absolutely necessary. The natural  suspicion of outsiders among all sentient races was enough to set off the horrid civil war on Xenon III.

"The Tanzarans were more than likely destroyed because they are strong telepaths and were beginning to build a warp-drive civilization. At the time of their destruction they had relations with the major power brokers of the Alpha Quadrant of the time: the Federation and the Klingon and Romulan empires; the Cardassians were upstarts just beginning to flex their muscles but were still influential. An alliance of equals between the Tanzarans any of the three major powers would have eventually made that power nearly invincible; an alliance of the Tanzarans with the Cardassians would have resulted in the eventual displacement of the Cardassians from the head of their own empire. For an entity fearful of telepaths, the Tanzarans presented a major threat: telepathic power combined with advanced technology. For the greater threat, greater power."

"Our files on the Tanzarans indicate that they were pursuing alliances with all the major powers. They could also have stood pat, played neutral, and in their own way become a power: the Geneva or Helsinki of the Alpha Quadrant: the place where deals are made," Alysa added. "Such a vital node would have been indispensible to peace in the Alpha Quadrant. Earth's Cold War would likely have been much hotter without neutral countries such as Switzerland or Austria or Finland to act as intermediaries."

"That may be so," Johnny interjected, "but what about the telepathic races which were much more powerful at the time, like the Vulcans?"

"This is what troubles me about this incident. Pharox has many catspaws; one of these is a highly advanced race known as the Eriarti. They have extremely advanced technology, but they are cowards. They never fight a battle unless they know they can win without losses. Had either the Federation vessel *Enterprise* or the Klingon vessel *Vengeance* been closer to Tanzara than they were, the Eriarti would have aborted the attack. A direct attack on Vulcan would be both out of character and out of the question: though avowed pacifists, Vulcans are more than capable of defending themselves. And other powerful races such as the Humans, Andorians, and Tellarites would have quickly rallied to Vulcan's defense," Kalmar answered. "Hence this experimentation. Ms. Milano, if you consult your science database, along what lines do you believe the Alarans will evolve?"

Francesca typed a few commands into the workstation at her chair. "A schematic of the hypothetical evolution of an Alaran will appear on the conference room viewscreen. Keep in mind that this is only a hypothesis; future events in the Alaran system could change both the rate and direction of evolution," she explained.

The screen showed one of the hominids; a data display correlated the Alaran's bioreadings with those of several major races. At T plus five hundred thousand years, roughly when the Alarans would be making crude stone tools, using fire, and developing language, the similarities started to become appearant.

At T plus one million years, the Alarans, due to the presence of higher than normal radiation levels in their planetary system, had evolved to the point of using other materials such as bone and animal skins for their tools. The hair which had covered their bodies had almost disappeared, leaving behind naked flesh of a greenish hue. The ears were very slightly pointed.

At T plus 1.5 million years, the Alarans were beginning to domesticate animals. The similarity was now unmistakeable. Before the command staff of the *Virgo* was an entity which resembled a cross between Neandertal man and a modern Vulcan!

"So you see," Kalmar concluded, "the Eriarti, and their keeper Pharox, have not forgotten about the Vulcans. If you look at your displays you will note the remarkable similarity between the Vulcan and Alaran immune systems."

"He's right!" Dana exclaimed. "Even now there's nearly 85% congruence between the two!"

Kalmar continued. "This is only a practice for the main attack. The Eriarti could never survive a direct attack on Vulcan or any other Federation world. Under the guise of a trade or diplomatic mission, however, they could
smuggle in substantial quantities of bioweapons. Within weeks every Vulcan in the Federation could be dead or dying. The Romulans could also be destroyed in the same fashion. Then Pharox would be free to stir up old
animosities and set up his dominion in the Alpha Quadrant!"

"Then it's settled. We must track down the Eriarti vessel and rescue our people; more to the point, we need to deliver a message to them and their keeper," Captain Maruu announced. "They have just attempted to exterminate an entire race, with ambitions of exterminating two others. For that alone they are a menace. Anyone who's ever lived on Bajor during the occupation can tell you about what bioweapons can do! The fact that they have three, four including Jenara's baby, of our own makes this personal.

"Everybody has a part here. Ms. Lataro, I want you to analyze the reports written by Captain Kirk of the attack on Tanzara. Come up with a strategy for intercepting and defeating the Eriarti vessels. Ms. Sinclair, research any intelligence data we might have from the Klingons and any other races which may have had contact with the Eriarti, and share your findings with Ms. Lataro. *All* of the data, please. Doctor, you and Ms. Milano should
coordinate on finding a cure for this disease. If we can save the Alarans, we must. They wouldn't be dying if the Federation didn't pose a threat to the Eriarti and Pharox. Major Chee, prepare your people for an interdict-and-board mission. Coordinate security arrangements with Lieutenant Sitto; I don't just want to defeat these bastards, I want to kick down their door and let them know never to mess with our part of the galaxy
again!"

"Okay, let's get to work! Dismissed." With that, the meeting broke up.
______________________________

Two hours later, after working up an operation plan and getting the captain to sign off on it, Johnny addressed his troops.

"All right, Marines, listen up!"

Johnny's platoon was assembled on the quarterdeck, including Zelansky who, for some reason, had been pursuing his duties with cheerful alacrity of late. *Good to see he's straightening out his act,* Johnny thought. *I'll
need everyone I can get for this!*

"Three of our senior officers have just been abducted by a race known as the Eriarti. They are highly advanced and skilled in the use of biological weapons. In twelve hours we are going to interdict their vessel, board it, and rescue our people," he told them. *My people,* he thought to themselves, hoping and praying to Changing Woman, the Warrior Twins, and all the Holy People that Jenara and the baby were safe. "While on board, we will attempt to take prisoners for interrogation by Security. The Eriarti have used a biological weapon on the Alaran race, which is biologically similar to Vulcans. It is the Captain's considered opinion that they may be preparing
to attack the Vulcan homeworld with such a weapon.

"We are not going to let that happen, are we?! We are going to board this ship, kick the Eriarti's butts, and take down some names for future reference!!!"

The platoon sounded off with an impressive "HOO-RAH!!!"

"We are thirteen hours away from the Eriarti vessel's estimated position. You will get at least four hours' sleep and a good meal before going in. You'll need every gram of strength you can get. This type of fight is frequently very short but extremely draining; the least bit of fatigue could mean you sleep forever! All personnel are to carry the Mark V compression phaser rifle with full battle armor. Your commanding officer, your platoon
sergeant, your squad leaders and Privates Maxon and Van der Merwe will be carrying five photon grenades apiece," Johnny instructed them, using standard Marine third person impersonal. The pronoun "I" had no place in the Corps!

"In lieu of personnel from Medical, who are all working around the clock to find a cure for the bioweapon's effects, Private Zelansky is designated platoon corpsman. Private, you are to go immediately to Sickbay and draw a medical tricorder and full medkit," Johnny ordered. He wasn't entirely sure about this decision, but Zelansky was capable of operating field medical equipment and, most importantly, would not be carrying a weapon other than a sidearm. As much as he had improved, Zelansky was still the worst shot in the platoon.

"Aye, sir," Zelansky responded, turning smartly and double-timing it to Sickbay.

"The rest of you: get your equipment ready. We will be using insertion pattern Beta-9, which we've all drilled on until we know it in our sleep! Maxon, Sivak, report to my office at 2000 hours. Sergeant, dismiss the platoon!"

Johnny then turned and walked to his office. "Dismissed!" Barek ordered as Johnny left.

Once Johnny reached his office, he found both Francesca and K'Lara waiting for him. "We'd like a word with you, Major," K'Lara told him.

"Certainly, come on in. Is there a problem, Commander? Aside from the obvious problem, that is."

"It is the problem all three of us have been avoiding since this started," Francesca replied. "I know for a fact that you love Jenara very much. Even a Pakled's bright enough to see that one a parsec away! And although sometimes I wonder if he knows it, I love Benton. And obviously K'Lara wants her husband back. But I, for one, am not going to sit around and wait while the shooting goes on! I want in on your boarding mission."

Johnny thought for a moment. "Okay. I assume you've gotten clearance from the captain on this one, and that you have some training we can use."

"I've authorized it, as is my right as a Lieutenant Commander," K'Lara replied.

"And I've had Starfleet standard small arms training, and qualify every six months per regulations," Francesca added.

*No way I'm getting out of this one,* Johnny thought. *Not that I blame her!* "All right, then. Do you have any medical training?"

"Yes, sir. I'm qualified as a Level I Medtech."

"Good. I can use a second corpsman. That's the best thing you can do to aid this mission right now. Between the three of us as officers, I'm not entirely sure I trust the man I've assigned to the job with a hypospray any
further than I'd trust him with a phaser! But we're better off with two than one. Report to Sickbay and draw a field medkit and medical tricorder, then return to the quarterdeck and request that Sergeant Barek scan you for
battle armor. Commander, I'm sure you can convince the quartermaster to put a rush on this order," Johnny replied.

"Of course," K'Lara answered.

"That is greatly apprecated. Francesca, once that's done, sit down with Private Zelansky and teach him anything he doesn't know about field medicine, which I'm sure is probably quite a bit. You won't be doing much shooting, but you'll be keeping the rest of us alive," Johnny said. "Now, get moving!"

"Yes, sir!" Francesca hurried out the door. Johnny wasn't quite sure, but he sensed an almost joyful attitude from her.

"One more thing, Major. I wish to join this mission as well. I cannot sit by at the helm while my Jonathan's in danger," K'Lara asked.

"Absolutely not, Commander. And the Captain will back me up on this one."

K'Lara was shocked, but held back somehow. "And your reasoning?"

Johnny could perceive her temper just below the surface, a temper which made the one he'd battled all his life a mere shadow by comparison. "Jenara lost her homeworld and nearly all of her race to these people; the Alarans could lose their shot at joining the rest of us someday in exploring the universe, or possibly sweeping up our ashes long after we've entered the ghost realm. And let's be honest: I may or may not have lost Jenara and the baby, Francesca may have lost Benton, and you may have lost Jon. But if I have anything to do with it, T'Lan will *not* lose his mother: even if it means stifling her desire for vengeance! There's been enough tragedy on account of the Eriarti."

K'Lara thought for a moment. "I suppose you're right. I was being selfish." She relaxed, then smiled a bit as she thought of her baby boy. "In a couple of weeks when you become a parent you'll find yourself at first thinking
things can be the way they were before, and then suddenly reminded that they'll never be the same again. Still, though, is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're the helmsman; get us there and make sure we still have a ship to bring Jon back to!"

"Of that you may be certain," K'Lara answered. "And if you need any equipment or supplies not already on hand, you've my direct authorization. I'll make sure our unduly stingy quartermaster knows this as well. Do
whatever it takes to bring my husband, and the father of my child, back alive!"

"I will. I promise," Johnny told her. As K'Lara left, Maxon and Sivak entered the office.

"Reporting as ordered, sir," Sivak said.

"At ease, Privates. One thing I did not mention earlier is a theory which directly pertains to both of you. The Eriarti are believed to be hunting down members of telepathic races; that may be one of the reasons Jenara was
abducted. It seems fairly conclusive that Vulcan is a future target for the Eriarti. We don't know how much or even if the Eriarti know about Betazed, but if they find out Betazoids are telepathic it's a sure bet they'll be next on the target priority list.

"I cannot order you to go into a situation where you are likely to be used for illegal medical experimentation for the purpose of developing bioweapons to exterminate your respective races. If you do not wish to participate in
this mission, let me know now, and I'll detail you to Lieutenant Sitto as part of shipboard security for the duration," Johnny explained.

Sivak spoke first. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Go ahead."

"I am a Vulcan. If the weapons we face are to be used against my people, then it is only logical that I should bear the risk of eliminating them. I am the only representative of my people in the platoon; to allow my comrades to bear a risk on my behalf which I am not willing to bear myself is both illogical and disingenuous," the Vulcan private answered.

"I thought you would say that, and I'm glad you said that. My faith in Vulcan integrity is once more renewed. How about you, Maxon?"

"I agree. Most other races see us as weak because Betazoids tend to be pacifists, by and large. We're the ship's counselors, the yeoman clerks, occasionally the engineers. But we are not known as warriors. Maybe these Eriarti will think twice about attacking Betazed if one of us were making them look down the business end of a Type V, sir."

"I like your thinking! Are you sure you're not *Dineh*?" Johnny asked. "Instead of a Type V phaser rifle, however, I want you carrying the Mark 22 photon antitank weapon. The captain wants to kick down the door; I want to
do it with style! All right, men, dismissed!"
______________________________

Despite his own orders, Johnny found himself unable to eat much. Jenara was in danger, and for the next ten hours there was little he could do about it except wait for the *Virgo* to get within range of the Eriarti ship.

As he retired to his sleeping quarters, Johnny regarded the Nine Sacred Glyphs. The sacred symbols of the Visitors of Xenon III were given to him by Glybothar, their High Mage and Keeper. Glybothar, and most of what were then called the Horde, weren't really bad people. They had been manipulated into doing things through a perversion of their original intent: to spread what seemed to them to be a good idea throughout the galaxy. *How many other manipulations took place?* Johnny thought. *Were the conquistadores so manipulated? How about the *billeganni* (the white Americans) whom my people fought five hundred years ago?* These thoughts stayed with him as he began singing the Enemy Way. As the only one of his people so far among the stars,
Johnny felt solace with the customs and ceremonies which tied him to his ancestry, his home...

The dream he would have that night, however, would provide Johnny with little solace.
______________________________

Stardate: 1928304
Earthdate: April 21, 1851
Location: Somewhere in New Mexico Territory, United States, Earth

He stirs, he stirs, he stirs, he stirs.
Now Talking God he stirs, he stirs.
Now his white robe of buckskin, he stirs, he stirs;
Now in old age wandering, he stirs, he stirs;
Now on the trail of beauty, he stirs, he stirs.
He stirs, he stirs, he stirs, he stirs."
         - from the Navajo Enemy Way
______________________________

Haske approached the ranchero with caution. The Mexicans had become one with the *billeganni*, the blue-robed warriors from the place where the sun dwells, and raiding had become much more dangerous. Word had recently spread from the village chief that the speaker for the *billeganni*, a man named Colonel Munroe, had decided not to raid the country of the Dineh. The Comanche and Jicarillo band of Apaches were expected to raid the white man's territory from the east, thus causing Munroe to cancel the campaign against
the People. Without the white soldiers present to hound them, the People could once more raid the Mexicans for food and wealth. *For once, the Comanche actually doing us a favor!* Haske thought. No love had been lost
between the Dineh and the Comanche ever since the bands which had wandered from northwestern Canada into New Mexico to become the Navajo and Apache arrived some nine hundred years earlier.

As Haske, and all the People, understood it, though, they had always been in this land. The Mexicans and the *billeganni* were interlopers, and the lords of the land which the white man called New Mexico would deal with them as they did with any raiders. Swiftly and decisively. Land meant sheep and horses, and sheep and horses meant wealth. Which was why Haske, barely fifteen summers old, was raiding this miserable excuse for a ranchero. A tiny flock of twenty sheep, and two old horses as good for food as for riding. But the twenty sheep and two horses were twenty sheep and two horses more than his village had.

The tiny adobe dwelling, however, was unusually quiet, even for night. The horses seemed unusually nervous, and the sheep were restless, but the rancher who lived on this property did not go out to investigate. *The
Mexicans grow wiser; they know I'll send an arrow through their hearts as soon as one of them exits that funny-looking *hogan*, Haske thought, chuckling to himself. Cautiously, however he approached the dwelling.

He got within three paces of the door when he heard whimpering inside. Haske peeped through the window and saw a Mexican man about twice his age huddled in the corner. He had no discernable weapons and was extremely terrified. *I would be too, unarmed in this country with Apaches and Comanches and *billeganni* running around the way they were,* Haske thought to himself, oblivious to the fact that somewhere an Apache was making the same comment about whites and Comanches and Mexicans and Navajo.

Something, though, was terribly wrong. Haske took a chance and entered the adobe. The man cried out. "Corre, indio, corre! Los brujos estan aqui!" That was Spanish for "Run, Indian, run! The witches are here!"

Sensing from the man's obvious emotion that this was no bluff, and there really were witches in the area, Haske turned to run, only to be stopped bya blinding light descending from the heavens.

Haske paid enough attention to the heavens to know of the sun and the moon and the grouping of stars his people called *Dilyehe* and the white man called the Pleiades which told them when to plant the corn and migrate to the mountains. But he had never seen anything like this! A gigantic silver triangle descending from the sky, and odd-looking people leaving it. If Haske hadn't known better, he would have sworn the odd-looking people were the *kachinas* for whom the Navajo's neigbors, the Hopi, danced and sacrificed cornmeal. But the Hopi never had anything like this!

*Could it be the white man?* Haske thought. No; as powerful as the *billeganni* were, they could not fly or build anything that could fly. This had to be another, yet more powerful tribe. Haske had absolutely no idea just how right he was...

*This Mexican's been witched,* Haske thought, *and these strangers are going to witch me as well!* For the first time anywhere in the long and bloody history of the Indian wars of the American frontier, an Indian actually
*wished* the white man was there! But this was beyond even them.

One of the odd people who came out saw him and pointed at him, a sure sign a spell had been cast. Haske immediately ran behind the adobe and nocked an arrow in his bow. *I will not let them make a ghost of me!* he thought.

The odd people started to converge upon his position. Haske released his arrow. It flew straight into the heart of one of them! A lot of liquid like blood, except bluish purple in color, gushed out. One of his companions fired a weapon much like a pistol at Haske, but it glanced off the corner of the adobe, nearly disintegrating that part of the rude structure. Haske fired another arrow, and then began to run back to his village. The odd men entered what was left of the adobe and took the now nearly-catatonic Mexican out with them. Haske looked back. His second arrow had hit another of the strangers in the leg. Without knowing it, he had counted coup on aliens from the opposite side of the galaxy, and inadvertently stopped a planetary invasion!!!

But Haske didn't care. His only concern was to get back to his village, where a healer would be able to sing over him and counteract the witching he'd taken before it became too strong.

Haske had the full four-day sing, and a drypainting of Changing Woman was made by the men in his village to help drive away the evil spirits. To the day he died of consumption on a reservation some thirty years later, Haske never spoke of the incident to anyone.
______________________________

Stardate: 2460710
Earthdate: September 16, 2383
Location: USS Virgo

The computer automatically sounded an alarm for Johnny to wake up, but he was already up and preparing for the battle ahead of him when the door chimed.

*Who could it be at this hour?* he thought. "Enter," Johnny called as he strapped on his armor.

In walked Kalmar, dressed in a Starfleet uniform. "Good morning, Johnny. I trust you slept well?"

"Slept well? Usually the night before a battle I don't dream at all. But I had the weirdest dream last night..."

"About something that happened over five hundred years ago back in the Navajo country?" Kalmar asked.

"Yes, how did you know?" Johnny asked, astonished.

"The Eriarti visited Earth, too. The man they took that night, Juan Garcia Mendoza, was a latent telepath, the strongest on the planet at the time, though the poor soul had no idea. He just thought he was having crazy dreams about witches from the sky, and drove the parish priest crazy with his incessant requests for an exorcism. And the Navajo raiding that ranch: he was your ancestor ten generations back. The Eriarti managed to get a genetic profile on him; the barbarian who killed one of them and wounded another convinced them to delay their plans for Earth another hundred years, but by that time humans had developed nuclear weapons and weren't afraid to use them.

"You're Haske's spitting image, although in much better health than he was at your age; tuberculosis is such a nasty disease. They'll be looking for you, Johnny," Kalmar said ominously. "Which is why I am going with you."
 

Title: "Mission of Mercy" (Part 4 of 4)
Author: Major Johnny Chee
Stardate: 2460710
Earthdate: September 16, 2383
Location: USS Virgo/Eriarti Vessel

"That's preposterous!" Johnny exclaimed. "Even with modern technology humans can't live over five hundred years! And most of the People, most *people*, back then were lucky to see fifty, let alone five hundred!"

"You have his bloodline," Kalmar explained. "That's important to the Eriarti. And speaking of time, the Eriarti are quite capable of manipulating one's perception of time. This is another reason why I'm coming. You'll need
someone along who can counter that effect. Otherwise this mission has zero probability of success. Imagine thinking you've set a thirty second charge, only to find you've set it for five seconds. I don't think I need to
elaborate."

Johnny had finished donning his panoply as Kalmar was speaking. He held his helmet under his arm as he listened to Kalmar's comments. "Yeah, suppose you do have a point there."

"Good. Let's get moving!" The Prophet and the warrior left the room and headed to the quarterdeck.
________________________________

"Eriarti vessel in range, Captain," K'Lara reported as the huge beetle-shaped main craft of the enemy hove into view.

"Hail them, Ensign," Maruu ordered.

"Aye, sir," Ensign Roald Estermann acknowledged from his post at Communications. "Channel open."

"This is Captain Stephen Maruu of the Federation starship *Virgo*. You are holding three members of our crew. We demand that your release them at once!"

The ship shook with a blast to the shields. "Forward shields are down five percent, Captain," Antilles reported.

"Okay, enough with talking. All hands, red alert!" Maruu ordered. The flashing red lights and klaxon of the Red Alert condition could be seen and heard throughout the *Virgo*. "Ms. Antilles, have you completed your
modifications to the ship's tractor beams?" the captain asked.

"Aye, sir. Tractor beam modifications complete."

"Good. What's our range to target?"

"3200 kilometers and closing rapidly, Captain," K'Lara replied.

"Initiate a phaser salvo, medium power, just enough to shut down their power plant."

Immediately a volley of phaser fire shot out from the *Virgo*. The Eriarti vessel was hit in five places.

"Target shield strength is down 35 percent. Engines are offline; life support is critical," K'Lara reported.

"Ms. Antilles, engage tractor beams. Bridge to Major Chee, is your platoon ready?"

[Aye, sir. Ready to disembark on your orders.] Johnny reported. Given that the Eriarti were capable of disrupting transporter beams, the Marines would perform this boarding the old-fashioned way: by shuttle craft.

"Disembark and get our people back!" Maruu exclaimed.
________________________________

The preflight check on the shuttlecraft had gone smoothly. Barek was quite at ease behind the controls as usual. *Like he wouldn't be! We've got the ghost of the Bloody Red Baron himself at the controls!* Johnny thought as he sat in the copilot's seat. "The order's been given to launch."

"Acknowledged," Barek said simply. The shuttle took off effortlessly, as though guided by invisible hands.

In the cabin of the shuttle sat Johnny's full platoon along with Ensign Milano and Kalmar. As usual, there was little chatter other than a few murmured prayers. Corporal Nkrumah busied himself sharpening his combat knife. All the while none of them knew that Kalmar was busy preparing their minds to not succumb to the Eriarti time-manipulation ability. Whether it was an Eriarti mental ability or a technology they'd developed was unknown, but preparation of the mind, Kalmar had told Johnny, was essential for countering it.

Johnny looked down at the shuttle's tactical display. "Range to target 3200 meters," he informed Barek.

"Any place in particular we should set this thing down?" the sergeant asked.

"Not that I can tell. Ensign, we need your services up here in the cockpit," Johnny called back. Francesca came forward.

"What can I do for you?"

"The usual sensor sweeps of the enemy vessel aren't turning up anything. Can you fine-tune the resolution?" Johnny asked.

"Certainly," Francesca answered as she reached over and tapped a few controls. "There. Resolution boosted by 120 percent. That should increase the signal-to-noise ratio. Aren't you glad I came along now, sir?" she replied.

"Always knew the Fleet was good for something besides driving the bus," Johnny quipped back, reviving once more an ancient rivalry. "Thank you, Ensign. The data return's coming in now. We have a forward area which looks like the bridge, and a midsection area that looks like an engineering facility. I recommend Engineering, there's an access panel on the upper surface of the ship, about two meters square."

"Very good, sir," Barek replied as the shuttle clamped itself down on the hull of the Eriarti vessel directly above the access panel. Not that they'd planned on knocking...

Johnny stepped back to the cabin and grabbed his phaser rifle. "Okay, people, stand back!" he ordered as he took aim at the access panel. He fired. The panel disappeared completely.

"All right men! Over the side!" he yelled as he jumped into the unknown. "GUNG HO!!!" the Marines, and Francesca, shouted as they followed Johnny into the vessel.

The Eriarti response was immediate. Two of the aliens, they looked not unlike certain extraterrestrials which were rumored to have plagued the New Mexico area of Earth during the 20th-century, opened fire on Johnny as soon as he dropped through the hatch. Neither hit, being too startled to take proper aim. Johnny rolled behind a control console and returned fire, hitting one of them. More Eriarti rushed into main engineering and soon a full-fledged firefight had ensued. Johnny managed to kill two more of the aliens before the fighting had stopped. "Okay, people, report!" he yelled.

"Corporal Olivares is down, sir! Initiating medical treatment!" Zelansky reported.

"How bad is he?"

"Not good. It looks like an abdominal hit," Zelansky reported, his hands shaking as he scanned his fallen comrade with the tricorder. "This weapon, it's slowly burning the skin off him, sir!"

"Steady, Private. Keep your mind on the mission. Get him stabilized and beamed back to Sickbay! Van der Merwe, take Olivares' squad! Anyone else?" Johnny called out.

No one else had been hit. Francesca had managed to access a computer link. "I'm accessing a plan of the ship, sir," she reported. "We're dealing with a crew of about a hundred, plus twenty captives. Fifteen Alarans, a T'rais, a Ferengi, and three humanoids. All are alive if not necessarily well!"

"Where are they?"

"Two decks down and five bulkheads forward from here, sir," the ensign reported.

"Good work! Sergeant, what's the body count here?"

"Twelve Eriarti dead, sir. Olivares has been beamed back to the *Virgo*."

"All right, let's move out! Twelve down, eighty-eight to go!" Johnny shouted. "Let's get that door open!"

Private Van der Merwe rushed forward to open the hatch leading from the main engineering section to the rest of the Eriarti vessel. It was shut, welded shut. Suddenly a hissing noise could be heard. "Sir, dey're pumping gas into ze room!" the big Afrikaner reported.

"Maxon, time to rock and roll! Everyone back!"

As the gas filled the room, the Marines fell back to the opposite bulkhead as Private Maxon primed his weapon. Five seconds later, a gigantic gout of energy shot forth and disintegrated the welded hatch, along with much of the rest of that bulkhead!

Twenty meters farther down the hall, the Eriarti were setting up some type of crew-served weapon behind a barricade. The barricade proved enormously resilient, absorbing the Marines' phaser fire. "Everybody down!" Johnny yelled as he activated a grenade and pitched it toward the position. A blinding flash of light, almost too much for the polarizing filter in his helmet's visor, filled the corridor. Eriarti, weapon, and barricade ceased to be.

And so they reached the first of five bulkheads.

The second bulkhead was somewhat more of a tough proposition. The weapon the Eriarti were attempting to set up had been set up behind this bulkhead. No sooner than the door had opened than an energy bolt shot out, killing Private Volex instantly. The Marines returned fire mercilessly, forcing the Eriarti to keep their heads down as Barek armed one of his grenades and threw it. No weapon, no barricade, no Eriarti. *Hopefully they don't have any more of these things,* Johnny thought to himself. *This isn't going to be pretty otherwise. The Eriarti may be cowards attacking others, but they're certainly tough enough on their own turf!*

"Okay, that's enough of this bull! Maxon, set that toy of yours to maximum power!"

The third bulkhead opened. Maxon fired. Whatever was in that corridor wasn't there anymore.

Behind the group, however, more Eriarti started to attack from the rear. Two more Marines wounded, but the remainder made good on their debts and obliterated the attackers.

"What's our count, Sergeant?" Johnny called out.

"Twenty-eight enemy dead, sir! We've one dead and three wounded so far!"

*So far we're running about even. Gotta get ahead of this game!* "All right, Sergeant, send Ensign Milano with a detail of three back to the ship's engineering facility. Ensign, I need you to hack into the ship's systems, find something we can use against these guys!"

"Aye, sir!" Moments later, Francesca, Sivak, and the two wounded Marines were proceeding back to engineering.

The fourth bulkhead came down without a hitch. Nobody was waiting for them beyond the doorway. Johnny tapped his com badge. "Ensign, what's your status?"

[I've accessed the ship's security system. Took some doing, but Private Sivak was able to hack their system. We should have something for you shortly!]

"Very good, Ensign; keep me posted. Chee out!"

Then, another message:

~Johnny, this is Tiadara! You must hurry, the Eriarti are going to start executing the captives. If Jenara were lucid I could empower her, but she's unconscious at the moment. She's been drugged! The Eriarti wish to dissect her to find out how she survived the attack!~

*We're coming!* Johnny thought back. *Talk with Kalmar; he's here with us, between the two of you there's got to be something that can be done!*

"All right! Let's keep moving!" Johnny yelled as he fired on the fifth and final bulkhead.

Then all Hell broke loose. A phalanx of no less than thirty Eriarti rushed the platoon! Fighting quickly went hand-to-hand. Johnny smashed one of the Eriarti in the head with the butt of his rifle, then turned and delivered a side thrust kick to another as he pulled out his knife. *These guys aren't very big, but there a lot stronger than they look!* Johnny thought as he struggled to shake an Eriarti off his back. The live weight on his back suddenly went dead, however. Johnny turned and saw Zelansky drawing his knife from the body of the dead Eriarti.

"Nice work, Private, how long have you been waiting to get that knife near my back?" Johnny asked.

"Not since your double from that other universe showed up!" Zelansky yelled as he punched another Eriarti in the face. "I decided I'd better not mess with anyone who could even *think* of being that mean!"

"Keep that thought and you'll go far!" Johnny replied as two more Eriarti rushed him. As advanced as their technology was, the Eriarti were pathetic at hand-to-hand combat.

[Milano to Major Chee, come in please!]

"This had better be good, Ensign, because we're a little busy right now!" Johnny replied as he delivered an uppercut to yet another Eriarti.

[We've accessed the ship's suppression systems, the same system which was pumping the gas into the engineering section when we first boarded! We're flooding the rest of the ship except for the deck where the captives are being held with anesthetic gas now!]

"Good work, Ensign! Get up here as quickly as possible, we've got a whole lot of work for that medkit of yours!" Johnny replied. The hand-to-hand fight was over, and five Eriarti had been taken prisoner. Nearly all of the
Marines had suffered cuts, bruises and (in one case) a broken arm. "Boarding party to *Virgo*, come in please!"

[This is Captain Maruu. What's your status?]

"The enemy vessel is nearly secured! We've destroyed half the crew and are preparing to free the prisoners! Five enemy have been secured for interrogation!"

[We will beam the prisoners aboard; signal when they are ready for transport. Continue and keep us posted. *Virgo* out.]

Johnny walked over to the beaten and bloodied prisoners. They cowered as he approached.

"Trust me, you sons of bitches, you've got less to worry about from me than your prisoners had to worry about from you. But if they've been harmed in the least, you can trust me that I will find your race, and find your world,
and grind it into the dust. My people stopped you once with bows and arrows. We've got phasers now. Do you understand me?" Johnny growled as he slapped transponders onto the backs of the prisoners. "Chee to *Virgo*, prisoners are ready for transport!" *Please get them off my hands before I dismember them.*

Suddenly a change passed over him, something undefined. Suddenly Johnny felt mean but by no means malevolent. The violence, the anger, in him was more focused, more controlled.

Tiadara had taken over.

"Let's go down this hole! Let's get it over with!" he yelled as he ran for the turbolift. His troops charged after him.

The turbolift car had been crashed as a security measure to keep the boarders from using it to move throughout the ship. Moving the entire platoon onto the next deck with any kind of speed would be nearly impossible without a transporter now, and that option was unavailable. Francesca had been able to identify the field which made normal transporter use impossible in the vicinity of the Eriarti ship, but had been unable to shut it off.

Johnny located the emergency ladder in the turbolift shaft and climbed down the shaft. One by one the others followed. The climb down two decks seemed as nothing to Johnny. He reached the turbolift doors and discovered they'd been fused shut. A blast from his rifle solved that problem; however, he was starting to run low on charge.

The corridor ahead of him was lined with cells, ten on either side. The howls of frightened Alarans could be heard even through the solid cell doors. Johnny produced his tricorder and scanned one of the locks on the
cell. It seemed simple enough on the outside, so Johnny produced from his harness a small laser cutter and disabled the lock. The door slid open. A rag-clothed Ferengi waiting inside rushed Johnny as he entered the cell.

"Calm down!" Johnny yelled in Ferengi. "We're the Federation, we're here to rescue you!"

The Ferengi stopped for a moment. "Then what are we waiting for, hu-mon? Give me a weapon so I can fight alongside you!"

Johnny tossed his rifle to the Ferengi. Something inside him told him he wouldn't be needing it for what came next.

Scanning the cells, Johnny studiously avoided the cells containing Alarans. The primitive hominids would more than likely be of greater danger to themselves than the Eriarti if they tried to fight back. *Trust me, my friends, I will seek vengeance and more for what's been done to you,* Johnny thought, a part of him hoping that enough of their telepathic ability had evolved for them to understand what he was thinking. Then he reached the cell containing the T'rais. After a moment's hesitation, Johnny popped the lock.

The T'rais rushed at him, just as the Ferengi had done. "You! The Federation was behind all of this!!! You will pay dearly for your crimes!!!"

The Ferengi Johnny had just released leveled his rifle at the T'rais. "Shut your mouth! The hu-mons are here to help us!"

"And how do I know you're not in league with them?" the T'rais, arrogant even after months of captivity, snarled.

"Maybe I am..." the Ferengi replied as he belted the T'rais across the chin. The T'rais collapsed.

"I like your way of doing things," Johnny told him.

"It was nothing, he's been getting on my nerves since he was captured."

Another cell was opened, to reveal the unconscious form of Lieutenant Commander Benton. "Francesca, we've found Benton!" Johnny yelled. Immediately Francesca ran forward and into the cell. She scanned him with the medical tricorder before embracing him. "He's unconscious but okay; no major injuries. They were probably preparing to dissect him," she said ominously.

The next cell was opened. Lataro lay unconscious inside. "Zelansky, we need your medkit!" Johnny yelled. The private rushed forward and began scanning the first officer. "Chee to *Virgo*, Benton and Lataro have been located. They're unconscious but otherwise unhurt. We'll be beaming them aboard shortly, have a medical team standing by!"

[Acknowledged. Good work, Major. Let us know when you've found Ms. Tomme. *Virgo* out.]

*Jenara,* Johnny thought. "Sergeant, secure the area," Johnny ordered. "We have a T'rais captive here who should be considered hostile. Keep him in his cell until we can figure out what to do with him. The Ferengi, what's your name?"

"Zeg," the Ferengi answered.

"Zeg here is on our side. Post him to guard the prisoner. I've got some unfinished business to settle," Johnny finished.

"Aye, sir. Zeg, come with me, please." Barek responded. "Sir, if I may, what are your intentions? I don't like the look in your eyes..."

"Sergeant, like the old ballplayer used to say, 'It ain't over 'till it's over!' I'm not pulling out of here until Jenara's free!" Johnny replied.

"May the Prophets guide you and light your path," Barek replied.

Barek didn't know how literally Chee would take that statement.
________________________________

One deck below the cell block was the laboratory deck. That, Johnny concluded, was the most logical place to go to find Jenara. He returned to the turbolift and climbed down to the next deck. Using his cutting tool, he cut the door along the weld which had fused it shut, then keyed the lock mechanism. The door slid open. Two Eriarti researchers had Jenara strapped to an exam table. Behind them was a large cage containing two very
frightened-looking Alarans. Johnny was unarmed except for his knife and eight grenades, the grenades would have instantly destroyed the lab and everything in it. Johnny therefore opted for the knife. Letting out a bloodcurdling yell, Johnny rushed the two scientists. The scientists retreated toward the rear of the laboratory ahead of Johnny's rush. One of them through a chair at him; Johnny blocked it with his arm and kept coming.
*Nothing* would stop him! He grabbed the nearer of the two Eriarti and threw him aside as if the alien were a child's doll. The other rushed him in a last desperate chance at survival. Johnny gut-stabbed him with the knife.
The Eriarti crumpled to the deck, bleeding profusely.

Johnny then turned to face the other Eriarti, but he was too late. One of the Alarans had managed to reach through the bars of the cage. With brute strength not seen in even the strongest human, the hominid had dismembered his tormentor. "Good work, friend," Johnny said to the Alaran. "In a few million years or so we'll have to sign you up!"

He then turned to Jenara. "Jenara, honey, are you okay?" he asked. The battle rage was slowly seeping out of him; the presence of Tiadara had likewise left him. But she was unconscious.

"Chee to *Virgo*, I've... I've located Jenara. She seems to be okay; everyone's okay..."

Then Johnny collapsed to his knees, weeping inconsolably. The Alarans in the cage sensed something was wrong with this stranger who had destroyed the Bad Ones, but they were insensible to do anything about it. At the other end of the communications channel, Captain Maruu discretely cut off the signal.
________________________________

The interrogation of the Eriarti prisoners proved fruitless, all were completely ignorant of the larger agenda of their masters. The name Pharox, however seemed to inspire a great deal of passion and reverence. They were
returned to their ship under guard.

The Eriarti ship, having been relieved of its prisoners, weaponry, and research equipment, was free to go. The newly-recovered Commander Lataro, with Kalmar and Benton and Johnny at his side, addressed the vessel's
commander. "Because we of the Federation know and value mercy, you are free to go. However, you are not to be seen anywhere near Federation space again. Take this message back to your keepers: we are aware of you, and know your plans. You will not succeed. If you attempt an attack on any Federation world or vessel or base, or if you harm any more innocents such as the Alarans, you will be hunted down and destroyed! Do I make myself clear?"

The Eriarti commander simply bowed his head, a gesture of consent.

"Good. Now get the Hell out of here! Lataro to *Virgo*, four to beam up!"
________________________________

After extracting the Eriarti's research data from the captured computer equipment, Dana Maruu was able to synthesize an antiviral agent to cure the Alaran plague. Within 72 hours every Alaran still alive on the planet was immune. Their children and all future generations of Alarans would also be immune; by the time the Alarans were sophisticated enough to develop medicine on their own, they would consider the plague which almost destroyed them no more serious than the common cold. Benton, Antilles, K'Lara, and Barek did the honor of flying the shuttles which dispersed the antiviral agent throughout the planet's ecosystem. The T'rais joined his comrades in the *Virgo's* brig, the best the crew could do for him until they could repatriate the prisoners. At least he would have members of his own society with whom to pass the time.

The funeral for Private Volex, the sole Tellarite in the platoon, was, as was the Tellarite custom, brief and to the point. "She lived among us; she died among us; she still walks among us as do the gods," Johnny said, quoting the Tellarite scripture as they held a brief service in the DEL. Along with the platoon were Jonathan, K'Lara, Benton, and Francesca to pay homage to one who had given her life to save theirs and the lives of those whom they loved. Jenara was unable to attend, being confined to Sickbay while Dana examined her thoroughly to ensure the Eriarti had not done any damage or performed any experiments. "Private Zeg, come forward," Johnny ordered.

The Ferengi, who joined the platoon after his rescue, did as ordered.

Johnny continued the Tellarite funeral rite. "This one takes the place of the one who has fallen. He shall have her position and be given the respect and courtesy we once gave our comrade. If anyone objects, speak now!"

No one spoke.

"Then the Crossing is concluded. May we all live to the fullest!"
________________________________

After the funeral/initiation, Johnny, still in dress uniform, went to Sickbay. "Oh, good, you're here! Jenara's been asking for you!" the doctor exclaimed. "We've been trying to reach you, but your com badge was turned off."

"Sorry about that; had a funeral to attend," Johnny replied. "But life must continue. Take me to her, please!"

Dana led Johnny to the diagnostic bed where Jenara lay propped up. Johnny went to her and took her hand. "Are you okay, dear?"

Jenara smiled. "I'm fine. And the baby's fine, too. You stopped them just as they were about to begin their 'procedure'." She neglected, for good reason, to tell Johnny that the 'procedure' consisted of extracting the baby from her womb for study.

"It wasn't all me, you know. There were a lot of people involved. And Tiadara, tell her I enjoyed her visit, but next time to let me know before she jumps in like that!" Johnny said, laughing toward the end. "Jenara, let's never have to worry about being apart again," he told her.

"You mean?"

"Yes. Doctor, you're my witness. Jenara, will you marry me?"

Jenara became ecstatic. "Of course!!! I've been waiting for you to ask!!!"

*It's about bloody time he asked,* Dana thought.
________________________________

Stardate: 2460751
Earthdate: October 1, 2383

"And so, with the power invested in me by the United Federation of Planets and Starfleet Command, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Captain Stephen Maruu announced. "You may kiss the bride," he told Johnny.

Amid lots of cheering and hooting Johnny, dressed in his dress uniform (which he'd now worn exactly twice since coming aboard the *Virgo*) and Jenara, dressed in the best approximation she could make of the multicolored Tanzaran wedding kimono, engaged in what had to have been one of the deepest, most passionate kisses either of them had hitherto experienced.

Francesca (Jenara's maid of honor) looked over at Benton (Johnny's best man) with a gleam in her eye. Suddenly the Kelvan became very uneasy...