"Melody, Harmony, and History"
by Rune Vandersway

The SPITFIRE was a seasoned craft that had seen its fair share of firefights. Somehow it had survived these many years. It was not possible to find a spot on the hull that didn’t have some kind of scorch mark on it. It was equally impossible to find any of the original circuits or conduits left in this battered craft. Countless pilots had flown this ship in its flavored history. At this moment however, sat one Rune Vandersway.

For centuries, money has controlled everything. Anything can be bought if the right amount of latinum is involved. Many would deny this fact, but nevertheless, it is true. And like anyone else, Rune Vandersway wanted to collect as much of it as he could with the least amount effort. Dealing illegal weapons probably wasn’t the easiest occupation out there, but it suited him just fine.

One could say he was the technical supervisor in the group. It would be difficult to find someone who could disassemble a Riuuion Stinger-Rifle and reassemble faster than he could. He was the one responsible for examining the merchandise to make sure it was legit. There was nothing worse than getting burned on a deal. Of course there was always the danger of being caught with contraband and being sent to a Starfleet Correction Facility. To him however, it was worth the risks.

“For god’s sake Max, turn that damn music off!” Rune had tried to restrain himself, but he could no longer hold it back.

Maxwell Cadere was the most arrogant cocky SOB that Rune had ever-crossed paths with. Max had this idea that he was some badass space pirate who could win over any women with just one look. His attitude could be felt just by looking at his clothes, as well as the many chains he wore. Now, it was true that he could hold his own in a fight, and Rune was actually impressed with his intelligence. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked having Max on his side. However, one of Max’s less redeeming and quit irritating qualities was his selection of music. Cadere always insisted on listening to rock music from the late twentieth century. It made Rune sick to his stomach.

“What’s wrong Rune? I thought you were a music lover?” Max shouted over the terrible noise. Rune quickly hit a button, shutting off the music in the middle of Max’s sentence. Kal'Gor, one of the two Klingongs on the mission, began to clap.

“You are so shallow.” Rune swiveled around in the pilot’s chair to face the young hotshot. “Why would you choose this kind of crap to listen to? How can it please your ears?”

“Come on now Rune, these songs are classics!” Cadere always seemed to take offense to personal attacks.

“Classics? I very much doubt that. Think of it: there are thousands of worlds out there, each with their own type of music. There have been millions of musical artists from these planets for ages. But instead of listening to something like “RLLgin ^gti” from Calor Prime, or the “23rd Maglop Symphony” from Gar, you listen to songs from one of earth’s worst musical periods!” As usual, the subject of the argument changed several times till it broke down into verbal attacks on each other. They finally stopped as their shuttle landed at Kal-Dixas. The mission ahead of them could possibly be very dangerous. Rune checked, then doubled checked his personal weapons to make sure they were in working order before he stepped out of the shuttle onto the mucky, dusty ground of Kal-Dixas. He was glad to be here.

"Reshaping"
Lt.jg. Mercury
Chief of Engineering

*******************Main Engineering 0800h***************

"Hello, Cadet how are you doing today?" David asked as he enter engineering.

"Good thank you, and how are you today?" the Cadet replied.

"Things could be better, lets see if we can make a dent in this computer core upgrade." David had not been looking forward to this upgrade. That don't come around that often but they are a pain. The process was long and tedious and because it was a computer core upgrade most of it was done manually. David got started. His job today would be to transfer most of the data to the new core. He stood at the main console and started punching away. After about a minute of conversions David felt like he was being watched. He turned to find the Cadet intensly staring at him. "Can I help you?"

"No, no sir, I ... I just never saw a human's hands work so quickly, I can barely see them."

David chuckled. It had been a while since somebody commented about his implants. "I was in an accident when I was younger. Most of my body was replaced by implants. I have a couple of chips in my head that help me to process things a lot faster than normal. So, in times like these I can do amazing things,"

"That's amazing!"

After hearing the Cadet said that, David immediately had a flashback of the accident. "Yeah, it really is amazing." David commented in a sacrastic tone. After a whole days shift of punching buttons David was ready to leave. He quickly did his post log and make out his list for Chiron. "Its time to relax."

David walked out of Engineering and headed for the turbo lift. He began to think. Wow so much has happened these couple of weeks. I can't believe I am Chief Engineer of the USS GALAXY. He then began to think about Lt. HutchCraft. I hope he is doing alright. For some reason his mind then turned towards his dad. David, missed his father, I all people he would be so pround to see how far he has come in such a short period. David began to realize that he really had no family to share this great accomplishment with. Suddenly David felt really alone. He had been on the ship long enough to fit in but David felt like he really didn't have his place amongst the crew. The was Melissa but we kind of put it on hold because of our new positions. We wanted to keep it professional. But David really missed her. "Maybe I will give her a call,"

Dan Josephs

"Arm Wrestling"
by Jack Kruger

After the crew of the SPITFIRE had entered the 'Slice of Rica' establishment, they spilt up in smaller groups. Jack was instantly drawn to the arm wrestling match, that took place in one corner of the bar. While keeping his eyes open, he approached the roaring crowd.

A strong looking Klingon and some person from another species, Jack was not quite sure what kind it was, were the bitter rivals in that duel. Every time the Klingon was about to win, the stranger seemed to draw power from somewhere and equalized the duel again. While that cheered up the crowd every time, the Klingon was about to get very upset. He cursed more and more every time he couldn't win the match, and Jack even learned some new Klingon curses.

Meanwhile Kruger kept looking for any possible troubles or threat that could endanger the outcome of their mission. He quickly came to the conclusion that many guests of the establishment had brought some 'defensive means' with them, mostly somehow cleverly concealed.

'Should a fight start here, it would be wise to leave this place as soon as possible.' he thought to himself and gazed around another time.

As his gaze returned to the table with the wrestlers, the Klingon was again very near to win, when suddenly the stranger fiddled something under the table and some kind of device dropped to the floor. One of the people next to the table picked the device up and examined it.

"He cheated!" he shouted, so that everyone could hear it.

The Klingon immediately rose and looked at the device. He came to the conclusion that this was some kind steroid device to 'push' the user and to give him more power instantly. With an expression of hatred and disgust on his face he grabbed the stranger at his jacket.

Jack knew from his personal experiences that Klingons could get very aggressive and violent, especially when someone cheated on them. He just hoped that no bar brawl would start from what was about to happen.

The Klingon threw the man across the bar, near the exit of the establishment. The stranger himself was quickly on his feet again and ran, as quickly as his feet carried him, out of the bar. The Klingon on the other hand was not in the mood to ran after him and just shouted some curses after him.

Relieved that nothing more seriously happened, Jack turned to look at Jeremiah Gordon and the others, but they appeared to have no success so far.

When he turned back to the table, the Klingon was just standing in front of him and looking into his eyes. Jack was somewhat surprised and shocked when he saw him that close.

"Is there anyone else, who will challenge me?" he shouted so loud that Kruger had the urge to cover his ears, but he didn't. Instead he thought about challenging the Klingon himself, but considering his current situation he didn't want to risk a bar brawl after all.

Shivek left his quarters, heading for Engineering. Having spent the afternoon of his day off working on his latest design ideas, he had found his quarters and his computer console there to be limiting. He doubted if the senior officer in charge of this shift would mind if he did a little work as long as he stayed out of the way.

He was staring at the PADD in his hand while he walked. The numbers just were NOT adding up. He knew that in theory, the design he had in mind could work. He also speculated that used in a much wider application, his design might be able to solve some of the Federations larger headaches. If only he could get the blasted math to work his way!!! It was frustrating to know that he was down to only TWO conflicting algorithms.

As a result of his midstride ponderings, he bumped smack into Lt. Boudreau.

"I'm so sorry!" She giggled. A somewhat annoying human habit. "I guess I wasn't paying attention. How are you today, Cadet? Getting settled in?"

Shivek eyed her outlandish choice of garb. He couldn't help but notice her flushed face indicating an embarassing situation for her. As always, however, his brain was still on his work and it took a few moments before his analytical state of mind gave way to the more emotionally inclined art of conversation. It was too bad that he found himself speaking during this mental transition.

"Excuse me, Lt. Boudreau. I apologize for my lack of attention to my intended route. In answer to your two questions: I am fine and I am settled quite nicely. Thank you for your concern."

Lt. Boudreau's face expressed momentary puzzlement, but soon shifted to an understanding and amiable demeanor.

"Umm....I was in the holodeck...." She stared down at her clothes self-consciously.

Shivek stared at her.

"I was dressed for the part...you know, acting."

He continued to stare at her.

"Well, anyway, I'll just be going now..." She began to move past him when the emotionally inclined art of conversation suddenly found its way to the forefront of his brain.

"Oh...eh...Lt. Boudreau! I apologize. Yes, I am sure that you have been a part of a most exciting holo-encounter." Lying...Shivek! he scolded himself, What is next? Crying? "Yes...most facinating."

"Umm...yeah. Okay. Well, sorry to have interrupted you, cadet. I'm just going to go change now..." She broke into a flurry of giggles as she rushed back the way Shivek had come.

That was handled MOST appropriately, Shivek...Sarcasm. It was a human quality that Shivek found very amusing. I'm sure she will be looking forward to the next encounter with bated breath....::sigh.::

Shivek continued to Engineering, wondering how long it would take him to get his mind back on his work.

“Some Fresh Air”
by John Clay

Clay had a feeling that it wasn’t likely that the ‘merchandise’ he and his colleagues sort after. Perhaps they had been given misleading information. One thing is for certain, they didn’t appear to be any closer to getting their hands on it than when they came in. At least that was what Clay was thinking. Since entering the “Slice of Risa” bar he had met a food merchants, two weapons dealers, a smuggler, and the occasional confidence artist that happened to be making his way through the area.

Gordon was happily talking away with Vulcan contact he had managed to conjure up and Clay sat there quietly listening to what was being said. Vulcans weren’t exactly the species he would accreditate with such a rowdy environment but it seemed this Kal-Dixas really does service all kinds. His frustration at the lack of information regarding the ‘merchandise’ was apparent after he presented the ‘sseikea’ challenge to two weapons dealers. He was a more sophisticated ‘weapons dealer’ and wouldn’t usually resort to brash methods of extracting information. Several animal species he was aware of use a big behavioural or physical displays to ward off other animals. Perhaps it was the perfomer in him that drew on that. All for the show!

“Wouldn’t you agree ‘mate” Gordon said to Clay, interrupting his thoughts.

“Oh . . . . yes Mr. Gordon. I do indeed.” he said agreeing to whatever had been said. The conversation with the Vulcan wasn’t the most exciting conversation they had experienced during the course of the evening.

“Thanks for your time ‘mate.”

“Indeed, I must be on my way. Peace and long life gentlemen.” the Vulcan cloth merchant said stoically.

“Live long and prosper.” Clay said instinctively. Afterall he had spent several years dealing with Vulcans in one sort or another.

“It was certainly worth a try ‘mate.” Gordon said turning to his young associate.

“Mmm, it was. At least Vulcans don’t lie.” Clay agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

Gordon nodded and watched Clay move towards the door. The stale air, cigarette smoke, and the faint smell of oil from the ventilation system wasn’t the best source of oxygen, even for a young weapons dealer such as John Clay. He found it both a little too stuffy for comfort and for being able to think clearly. The fresh was welcomed by his lungs and his head cleared up.

The music from the multi-armed keyboardist could be heard from the interior. He considered asking to have a bash at the instrument but figured it would be better to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He knew after his little incident with Jahn Devor and associate that Gordon would have preferred it also.

Clay look to either end of the courseway, watching the darkened figures move as the neon lights created a ‘strobe’ effect. Catching the corner of his eye Clay noticed a glistening object lying there in the gutter. As he went over to see what it was the object reflected the photons form the neon light and Clay realised that it was infact an octacrystal.

“What good fortune.” he said softly as he picked up the valuable mineral up out of the gutter. Cleaning it off it glistened even more.

Something else caught Clay’s eye also. Not anything as valuable as an octacrystal and nothing that could easily be lost. A middle-aged man, apparently a vagrant, also saw the octacrystal. Due to age, consumption, malnutrition, or even a combination, he wasn’t able to get as quickly as young Clay was. Clay took a look at the octacrystal and gave to the middle-aged man.

“No thanks, I don’t accept charity.” the vagrant said with pride.

Clay didn’t bother to reply to the overstatement of pride in the man’s tone. Instead of holding onto the mineral he simply dropped it close to the man and walked off. He had seen enough pride in the recent past and couldn’t believe what people will do to hold onto it. He was almost sick of it - occasionally it needs to be swallowed in the process. If your dead there isn’t much use for pride. Clay briefly turned around to see if the man had taken the octacrystal, but he and the gem were already gone. He decided he had enough fresh air and went back into the seedy establishment.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back Mr. Clay.” Gordon commented.

“No Mr. Gordon, just needed a little more fresh air than I expected.” Clay replied still thinking of what he had seen. Right

now Clay wished he was a Betazoid, maybe then he could ascertain whom to talk to next.

=/\= Surgical Strikes Pt 1=/\=
By Ensign Matthew Albrecht

Her plan was foolhardy, but he couldn’t deny the desperate need behind her strategy. Much as he would have liked to argue against it more than he already had, and that was quite a lot, it was too late. Akira had already convinced her small guerilla force—to which he was still an outsider. On top of that, he had angered her. While Matthew was accustomed to angering people with his protests and debates, he felt different about this person.

Akira had scratched out her idea while her fellow warriors recruited a few stragglers for their raid. She held a little battle session with her two top strategists, and the Starfleet ensign. During the meeting her ‘military commander,’ his name was Jihan, unrolled a map of the approach to the Triad Hachurui tower. Another tracker, Mitasinjin, explained their intelligence on the enemy forces.

The Rhombid reinforcement detachment was split into three lines, each containing about seventy-five soldiers, armed with everything from spears to lasers, to crossbows. The majority had automatic weapons with limited ammunition, and short swords for use in final combat situations. At the back of each line were an artillery or tank unit and an armored personnel carrier. Each line was taking a different street to the tower, which split their forces up significantly—however, not split far enough for Akira’s force, which then stood at about sixteen Dronegarians of varying ages.

Akira believed that a combat victory over the entire detachment was highly unlikely, but a strategic victory was obtainable. Her goal was therefore, to destroy the artillery, tanks and APCs, with the help of the Starfleet firepower at their disposal. Matthew had three clips for his phaser rifle, as well as three for his type I phaser. She then set out to plan three separate assaults, in rapid succession to prevent the arrival of the Rhomboid reinforcements at the tower.

Matthew understood the plan to contain four key elements. First, the guerillas would ‘ambush’ a line, with sniper fire taking out the communications equipment and command vehicle (like a jeep). Second, from a basement or some other low-level concealment, Ensign Albrecht would fire his rifle at the underbelly of the APC, destroying its ability to move and perhaps exploding the fuel pack. With luck, the frontal attacks of the Dronegarian warriors would distract the Rhombid enough that they wouldn’t see his phaser beam hugging the ground. Third, a similar attack upon the tank or artillery unit, hopefully concealed by smoke and debris, should disable or immobilize that unit. The fourth key element would be the rush from one Rhombid line to the next. Matthew would have to rush like mad from line to line, trying not to hold up the progress of the battles, timing would be highly critical. He would have a single escort to protect him, a young Preparer named Ginon.

After the briefing, Matthew shared a bit of Klingon wisdom a new friend had taught him, he said to Akira and Jihan, "ghIj qet jaghmeyjaj { May your enemies run with fear }"

As Metthew waited in the basement of the children’s toy store, watching the feet of the Rhombid march by through the small slit of a window, he listened to Ginon’s labored breathing. He(?) had obviously contracted the sickness too new to even have a name yet. Most of Akira’s new recruits had it, some were even so feverish that he questioned their ability to hold spears. The young ensign considered the many Dronegarians who would surely die in this afternoon’s combat. Although Matthew was impressed with Akira’s ability to inspire her people, despite having no rank (he thought she had been an accountant until very recently), he seriously doubted any of them would complete the third assault. If he were the last one alive, he vowed, he would stop the artillery.

Absently he touched the spot on his chest where his comm badge belonged. He had lost it somewhere that morning when chasing the Rhomboid patrol through these streets. Commander Coe probably considered him a casualty, if he had time to consider at all. That was probably just as well, since Matthew would be fortunate to survive. *Enough dramatics,* thought the ensign, *if I just follow my training, I will survive this—and so will Ginon.* He inserted a fresh clip in the rifle for the APC and tank that were just now rolling by.

He carefully and quietly removed the window glass from its casing, and rested the rifle upon the sill. He took aim at the underbelly of the APC and waited. Machinegun fire broke the near-silence as Jihan fired upon the command vehicle’s communication pack. Rhomboid soldiers scrambled about, looking for cover from the frontal attackers. Matthew shifted his aim at the last second to the tank, because it was going to pass behind the APC and make itself unavailable to him as a target. Matthew squeezed the trigger as the tank’s ventral access door became visible. He hoped Mitasinjin’s targeting advice was sound, or he was going to lose precious time finding the tank’s weaknesses.

The tank didn’t explode, however hydraulic fluids began to spread all over the stones beneath it. The tank had been maneuvering toward the ambushing Dronegarians, but as its steering system failed it was about to slam straight through a building. *Good enough,* thought Matthew, who then took aim upon the APC. Aiming at the underbelly of the heavily armored truck, the Starfleet officer fired the rifle into the rear center for an extended period, until the rifle ran out of energy. The APC leaped forward and upward several meters as its fuel cells exploded, knocking two dozen Rhombid to the ground. As the Rhombid forces reacted to the unexpected explosion, Akira’s troops did the most unthinkable thing; Rather than push their incredible momentary advantage, they left the battle.

Ginon led Matthew through the back halls and stairs of the building, kicking piles of stuffed dolls and blocks out of their way in their haste. "Again I must express my regret that a Tracker couldn’t be spared to lead you, Federation warrior." Ginon then stopped, leaned up against a wall, and coughed many times. Matthew became impatient and afraid of pursuit, so he put an arm under Ginon and started to help him toward the underground tunnels that led to the next ambush. The two allies came to the hatch that opened upon a drainage canal, the only point at which they would be exposed to the air between the first two attacks. Just before they opened it, the ensign reloaded his rifle, slung it over his back, and drew his type I phaser pistol.

Ginon opened the hatch, and Matthew visually scanned for hostiles. They went out onto the ledge, where a catwalk stretched across the nearly dry concrete channel below. After another scan, they headed across. Upon reaching the other end, Ginon turned to look back while Albrecht opened the gate they just reached. The whine of a laser startled Matthew, followed by a small explosion of concrete debris. He turned in time to see Ginon slip down into the chasm on a pile of rubble that was once solid ledge. Mechanically, without even realizing he did it, Matthew fired at Ginon’s attacker. When he realized what he did, there was no way of telling the outcome, since the Rhomboid was no longer standing at the rail above.

The young officer looked down to see Ginon moving, beginning to get up. The gap was too far for the Dronegarian to have any hope of rejoining Matthew. "Go on, Terran, you must not keep the others waiting!! Do not delay for me!" The Dronegarian’s argument was convincing, but Matthew recalled first-year Tactical Situations Basics. Lieutenant Barfan, an Andorian, spent hours lecturing on his ‘Third Rule of Tactics,’ which was ‘Never split from your partner, you will ALWAYS regret it.’ To which Barfan amended, "and, children, that is not a matter of heroics, it is a matter of saving your little fleshy asses, and not screwing up the mission!" Matthew gave it only that much thought, since every ingrained reaction he had given into so far had paid off, and slid down the wall to join the Preparer below.

Ensign Matthew Albrecht
Security Officer, USS Galaxy NCC 70637

"Klingon Challenges"
by Gritta
---------

Slipping through the crowd, she continuned following Rune and Kal'Gor, her paitence wearing very thin after the useless questions.

'Damn stupid idea. If we want to find weapons, all we have to do is start using some threats. Humans never know how to get information efficently.'

Nearby, she noticed Jack Kruger watching a Klingon male and some other wierd-looking alien, who were arm wrestling. Something dropped to the floor and seconds later, the wierd alien was hanging in midair before being thrown across the room by the angry Klingon.

Quickly, she headed over towards the group, hoping that something interesting would ensue to break up the boredom - something like a good old-fashioned bar brawl that she was used to back on Kronos. Her hand slipped to her dagger subconsiously as she lid closer.

To her annoyance, no bar brawls broke out, since the Klingon warrior decided that it wasn't worth the effort, instead cursing as the coward ran away. She was about to turn when the Klingon bellowed out,

"Is there anyone else who will challenge me? qablIj HI'ang {Show me your face!}"

'Just what I was looking for. At least it will let all the patrons know I'm not in Starfleet - no one would think a Starfleet officer would be that stupid.' Pushing her way past some humanoids in the way, she stepped closed and spoke,

"vISo'be' - yaS' jang llj qaD { I don't hide my face - I answer your challenge. } "

Nearby, she noticed turned towards Kruger looking at her with suprise and annoyance, but knew it was too late to back down. The Klingon turned to her with amusement on his face and laughed loudly.

Angered, she growled deeply as her body instinctivly crouched slightly. Her hand went directly to her weapon as she spat directly towards him and snarled out,

"jang yaS' , llj yIH or tlhIngan ? { Answer me, are you a tribble or Klingon? }"

The Klingon stepped forwards, causing Kruger to start reaching for a weapon, and brought his fist into her face. She fell back from the blow, wiped away some blood and spat at him again. This time in Standard so everyone could understand, the warrior bellowed,

"For a female, you show unmitigated gall. Ha' ba' {Come sit}"

Moving to the table, she noticed that a large group had gathered around to watch the arm wrestling. Hissing at her opponent, she gripped his hand tightly and the challenge started.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Gritta of the House Krotmag, Private shuttle Spitfire

"Close to Home"
Lieutenant Troy Blair
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Galaxy

*** War Torn Street ***

Blair was slowly nearing the Triad Hachurui, the amount of patrols he was encountering helped him figure that out. By now, he had lost so much blood that he could hardly walk upright, or in a straight line. Needless to say, he was on the verge of slipping into unconscienceness, not like the little blackout he had before.

He managed to evade the patrols he came across, and soon found himself on the outskirts of the Rhomboid entrenchments. They had the Triad surrounded, and were constantly slamming the building with mortar fire. It was amazing how the building could withstand that much shelling, and still be standing.

Troy hid behind a doorway, only about 50 yards from the Triad. He leaned against the wall and peeked out to inspect the Rhomboid lines. They looked solid, but there were a few holes here and there. While figuring out a plan, Troy glanced down at his side. The small patch he had torn off of his sleeve, to cover the wound, was saturated. Blood still continued to trickle down his side and onto the floor, where a small pool was starting to form. If the Rhomboids really wanted to kill him, then all they would have to do is follow the trail he had left behind.

After shaking off a dizzy spell, Troy returned his attention to the line. There had to be a way to break through, but how? He did not have enough strength, not to mention enough power in his phaser, to be able to charge the line firing. Nor would he be able to single handily steal one of the Rhomboid armored vehicles. Then a thought struck him, if he could create a small hole in the line, even if it was temporary, he probably would be able to squeeze through. Blair quickly found the closest mortar emplacement, and studied it. There were three men operating the artillery piece. One dropping the rounds into it, one adjusting the trajectory, and the third telling what to aim for. Off to their rights, was four to five cases of unused shells. And around the emplacement where several soldiers, each firing their laser weapons at the Triad.

Troy took his phaser rifle and put it to it's highest setting, this would no doubt drain the power cell, but it was his only hope. He held the rifle up to his shoulder and took aim. Because the loss of blood had caused him to shake slightly, he had to make sure his aim was accurate, he had only one shot. Waiting several seconds to make sure had the deadliest aim possible, Troy squeezed the trigger. The beam raced toward the ammo crates, barely hitting the corner, but it was enough to set the shells off. KABOOM! A large explosion ripped through the Rhomboid lines, the mortar team and anyone within a few feet were instantly killed. The other foot soldiers scattered to avoid the falling shrapnel. This was Blair's opportunity, with all the strength he could muster the tactical officer ran as fast as he could for the Triad. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of laser weapons firing in his direction. The Rhomboid had obviously spotted him.

Each step he took, the dizzier he felt, he had to make it though. Certain death awaited him if he did not. Slowly, Troy's strength withered away causing him to collapse on a pile of rubble.

"Get him and bring him with us..." Troy could hear voices, but could not tell if they were Dronegarian, or Rhomboid. He then felt two sets of hands grab each of his arms as he was dragged over the debris. He blacked out.

*** Minutes later ***

Troy awoke to find himself on his back staring up. He could not tell where he was, or if he was still bleeding. He wasn't chained or tied down in anyway, but that didn't mean that someone was holding a weapon on him. Blair rubbed his head with his hands, noticing the dizziness was gone.

"Ahh, you're awake. We managed to stop the bleeding and dull the pain, but you're still going to need to see a doctor" Troy paused for a second, he knew that voice...it was Commander Coe's

"I made it" Troy whispered.

"Yes you did Lieutenant, luckily you collapsed in front of a foxhole full of Dronegar warriors. They drug you back here, where we treated you." Troy started to get to his feet, inorder to return to duty, "No, no no, you rest for now. We're going to need you in as good of health as possible, soon. Your rifle is next to the door, fully charged, report to me in an hour."

"Aye sir," Troy began "Oh and Commander, everyone should aim for the ammo crates in the mortar emplacements, they find. It will blow a pretty good size hole in the Rhomboid lines. That should buy us sometime."

"I'll pass the message, Lieutenant" Commander Coe exited the room

Turning on his side, Troy glanced around the room. It was a makeshift hospital, wounded and dead were on cots or on the floor, all over. Muffled coughs sounded every once and a while, or a cry of pain, or the most disturbing moaning one could hear. There were about 50 casualties, mostly Dronegarian, Troy was the second Starfleet officer in the room, he did not recognize the other. And there only about 3 attendants for them all. It was

a sad state for the Dronegarian people, hopefully their war would be over soon.

*** 1 hour later ***

Bandaged up, and able to walk without looking intoxicated, Troy returned to duty.

"Troy! You're alive!" K'arta called out from across the room, "What happened?"

"I tripped when we were falling back to the Triad, so I took cover in a storm sewer. Then I got lost and had to find my way back." Troy replied

"Your side looks better too, it's good to have you back. I'd like to talk, but I better get back to my position." K'arta waved as she parted

Troy spotted Commander Coe, who was talking with some Dronegar military officers, he walked over to them.

"Lieutenant Blair, you got a good look at the Rhomboid lines, is there anything you can tell us?" Coe asked

"Probably so." Blair continued "Their lines are pretty strong, with foot soldiers up front and armored vehicles in the back. The debris field is what is probably keeping the armored columns from advancing on this building. Also, they have many mortar teams scattered around. Some are out in the open, and some are hidden, I only found about 3 hidden teams. I believe the Rhomboid have great confidence in their artillery, because most of the emplacements I saw barely had any footsoldiers around them. But all in all, the Rhomboid have a tight hold on this place."

"That's what we were afraid of" One of the Dronegars said. The other nodded his head in agreement.

"Gentlemen....If we want to live, then I suggest when night falls we send a few teams out to take care of as many mortar emplacements and armored vehicles as possible. A bit risky, but if I was able to bust through their lines with half of my strength, then we should be able to slip a couple of teams out. Commander?" Troy suggested

"My Kind Of Town"
by Maxwell Cadere

It was a long trip. For awhile Max thought he was going to have to kill a couple of his crew mates. He would play whatever kind of music he wanted to hear and the only one who could stop him, was Gordon. And Gordon could stop him because Gordon paid him. Otherwise Max would kill anyone who got in his way or defied him.

Max’s blonde hair set him apart from the others. A pretty boy with a black heart, monstrous eyes and uncontrolled rage. Gordon figured he was handy to have around.

As they passed the ID desk, the old man looked Maxwell over. The man turned white when he saw the depthlessness in Max’s eyes. Cadere had the ruthless stare of a great white shark. Max had no soul, no love, he was a man bent on getting what he wanted any way he wanted it. And nothing whatsoever stopped him.

Passing the ID desk, Maxwell listened as Gordon gave the team instructions. He even offered to buy a round of drinks for his men. That’s why Cadere tolerated Gordon’s company. He may have been a weapons dealer, but he had generosity and knew how to treat his men.

*** Streets of Kal-Dixas ***

The city streets were dark, hardly lit, the only real light were the neon signs that covered the area. It even looked like a place of greed. Maxwell would bump into people as he walked and look at them with his eyes, and the pedestrians just walked away. Maxwell was a killer, and you could see the angel of death in his eyes.

*** Slice Of Risa Bar ***

The crew of the Spitfire arrived at the "Slice Of Risa" bar. Entering, the crew split up into teams. While everyone else looked for information, Max would make himself the life of the party. Maxwell saw some scantily clad ladies, if you could call them ladies, in reality they were prostitutes with hardly any clothes on. In their profession, they didn’t need clothes, for the fact they weren’t in them that often. He approached them and they smiled, batted their eyelashes at him, seeing the potential for a sale.

Maxwell sat at their booth and they surrounded him. They flirted with him, laughed at his jokes.

"WAITRESS!!!" Max yelled through the bar, "Come here!!" Maxwell was having a blast. It was like Christmas. The girls may have been sluts, but they were beautiful sluts and he missed having female…uh companionship.

The waitress came over, "Yes, sir, what can I get for you?" she asked. You could see she was annoyed by Max’s boisterous voice and arrogant attitude.

"A round of drinks for the ladies here, and a Makatara Cocktail for me," Maxwell said, laughing, touching one of the women in a intimate place underneath the table. She laughed and smiled at Max. She seemed to like it.

The waitress took the order and left.

"So, where you ladies from?" Max asked.

The pretty, voluptuous blonde spoke up first, "I’m from Lira III, a Federation colony that broke from the Federation and became a Maki outpost. It was destroyed by the Cardassians 2 years ago."

"Awwww too bad. The rest of you?" Max said, he could care less about the woman’s hard luck.

"I’m from Bajor," the brunette said, she said in a flirty voice, she was doing everything she could to get Max’s money for her services.

"I’m from Betazed," the beautiful woman said, her dark eyes, long black hair made her extremely attractive to Max.

"Well ladies, now that we’re through with the niceties—how much?" he asked seriously.

"For which one?" the Bajoran asked.

"All three?" Max smiled.

"All night, an hour?" the woman from Lira III asked.

"All night, I’m a rich man, I could afford to buy you as concubines," Max laughed.

"For all three, it’s 3 bars of gold pressed latinum," the Betazoid said, she paused, "Each!"

"WHAT!!! Are you crazy?" Max asked, laughing.

"You girls aren’t worth 4 bars together much less 3 each. I’ll give you 1 and a half each. But, that’s it." Max smiled. "You girls have never had pleasure like I can give," He said, brash and with pride. Max knew he was handsome, knew he was good and didn’t care who he told.

"Besides, these guys aren’t exactly breaking down your doors, now are they?" Max pointed out.

The girls were silent. They seemed to be thinking it over.

"While your thinking about the price. Have you seen any other weapons dealers around here? One’s dealing in biological weapons? The kind that could exterminate an entire species?" Max asked.

"Not me," the Bajoran said.

"Nope," the human said, in a low voice.

"Haven’t the slightest," the Betazoid said.

"So, are we going to have fun tonight? Or am I going to have to just take you outside and do what I please with you, whether you like it or not?" Max smiled, he looked at them, an evil glare penetrating their fears. He showed them he meant it. No one would ever guess Maxwell was a Federation officer, he was doing a good job of acting undercover. Completely wrapped up by his fake persona. In the moment, letting his rage and acting take him where it would.

"You couldn’t force us to do anything!" the Betazed said, not able to read Maxwell’s mind.

Max stood on the seat of the booth, jumped over the table and pulled the woman off of her butt and dragged her outside. The other two started to scream. Max smiled.

"Bad move honey, now I’ll have to prove it to you," Max laughed. The sound of his laughter made the woman shiver. She made a big mistake challenging this one.

Max was dragging the woman by the front of her dress. The Betazoid woman looked like a rag doll in Max’s grasp. He dragged her outside. "Never! Never! Challenge me!!! I’m feeling good tonight, so I’ll spare your life. If I see you back in this bar again tonight, I’ll kill you!" He then shouted at her, "Get out of here, now!!!"

The woman fled for her life, running, falling over her dress and getting up again. She was terrified. Max would probably regret that later. But, at least he saved her from having one of those other men as customers.

Max then went back inside the bar, going to the booth where the other two were still sitting. They were crying. "Where’s Janor?" the Bajoran asked.

"She’s unconscious! Just be glad I didn’t kill her," Max raised his hand showing both of them the blood on his hands. "This could’ve been your blood. Now, do you want to challenge me? Or do you want to take my offer?"

The girls just shook their heads no and left. Leaving the bar as fast as they could.

Now, that he took care of the prostitutes of Slice Of Risa, it was time to establish his dominance over the others.

He walked over to the bar, slammed his fist on the counter and yelled, "Give me a Blue Danube! On the rocks!" The Blue Danube was a sweet, non-alcoholic drink that could turn the stomach of a weak human. But, Max actually liked the drink.

The bartender set the drink in front of Max. "Put it on my tab bar-keep," he said, knowing bartenders hated being called that.

Max was having a great time. Although, when he was back on duty he would regret hitting that woman, but he had to be believable, had to look mean.

A Klingon saw what he was drinking, he also saw that Max drove away the prostitutes. This Klingon didn’t like that.

"A Blue Danube? A drink for a coward!!" the Klingon mocked in perfect Klingon, thinking that Max didn’t know the language. Max turned around, smiling, it was an evil grin.

"Only cowards mock! Can you back it up tribble?" Max returned in perfect Klingon.

The Klingon unsheathed his D’k’tagh and started to wave it in Max’s face.

Max had his foot and a half long Bowie knife in his hand in the blink of an eye. Caught the Klingon on the left wrist with his blade. The Klingon was stunned.

"You are quick human," the warrior said.

"And you’ll die even quicker than that, I have Klingons for breakfast, lunch and dinner," Max laughed.

The warrior came at him with an expert move. Cadere took his arm, blocking the attack, the Klingon was shocked. Cadere shoved the knife out of the warrior’s hand. Then he picked him up and through him into a wall. This gave Max enough time to remove his spiked titanium chain. The chain was in his left hand, his Bowie knife in his right hand.

The Klingon got up dazed. But, he was still alive, a few broken ribs from the impact into the wall. But, this Klingon was honorable and would die if he had to. Of course he had no idea who he was fighting with. Max looked like just another space pirate.

Max was swirling his chain around. One of the most deadly weapons in the quadrant. The Klingon moved to pick up his D’k’tahg, and couldn’t. At least if he wanted to dodge Max’s chain.

One bad move. The Klingon got to close to Max’s chain and had three of the spikes jam into his forehead. The Klingon was bleeding profusely, he was groggy, but still alive. Then Maxwell used his Bowie knife to slash the Klingon’s armor. It cut through, but barely. He ripped it off and threw the armor across the bar, it landed on the floor.

"Now, you will die easy," Cadere let out an evil shrill that all in the bar heard.

Someone nearby said, "he’s mad!"

The Klingon could barely stand. He was bruised, had broken ribs, cuts on his arms, his head looked like a faucet of blood. He was in pain. But he came at Max again. Max buried his Bowie knife in the Klingon’s chest, the Klingon never saw it coming, it was so lightening quick. Part of the blade was sticking out the Klingon’s back.

All eyes in the bar were now on the fight. And Max loved it. A megalomaniac to the fullest extent, he played it up. The stab wound didn’t kill the Klingon, but it was a perfect stab, any other place on the body and the Klingon warrior would be with Kahless.

Max picked the Klingon up over his head, walking to the door. Then threw the creature out the front door. He turned around and smiled. "Anyone else want to get this knife," Max showed the knife to everyone, "in their heart?"

No one said anything at first. One Klingon spoke up. "I am Gorta of the House of Mahg’la. You have just defeated the most powerful warrior in this bar. No one is going to fool with you."

Maxwell stepped toward Gorta. A rage of fire, from the heat of battle, burning in Max’s eyes. He wanted more blood, "Are you from his house? Shall I kill you?"

The Klingon knew that his friend out in the street could’ve wiped Gorta clean off the face of the asteroid if he wanted. And Max just made quick work of him. Gorta was a Klingon, but he wasn’t stupid. "No, let me buy you another Blue Danube?" Gorta offered.

An hour later, Maxwell Cadere, had everyone in the bar laughing at his jokes, buying him Blue Danube’s, and kissing his butt. Cadere was having a lot of fun.

Gordon walked up to Max. "May I speak with you for a moment Mr. Cadere?"

"Sure." Max walked with Gordon.

"Are you crazy!? What if you were killed in that fight?" Gordon frowned, upset at Max.

"I didn’t, I knew what I was doing. I set that Klingon up. I timed the order of the Blue Danube, so when he walked by he would mock me, giving me every reason to kill him, according to the rules of the underhanded and seedy," Cadere smiled. "It worked, there’s not a person in this bar who would challenge me. Everyone except the others on the Spitfire has bought me a drink. I can handle myself Mr. Gordon. Trust me."

Gordon's frown deepened. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but glancing around at the many civilians, a lot of whose eyes were on the brash Cadere after his shenanigans in the bar, Gordon thought twice about it. As his expression soured further, he made a mental note to speak to Cadere about his behavior at a later time.

"End of a Challenge"
by Gritta
---------

The bulky Klingon sitting in front of her sure had a tight grip, and she was sure that a human would have a crushed fist at the moment.

Using all her strength, she pushed hard against his arm and realised quickly that there was no way in hell that she could win.

"Ready to quit, female?" Baring her teeth in anger, she snarled,

"Not on your life, and the name is Gritta of house Krotmag."

The Klingon nodded and pushed harder, speaking,

"I am Kan'Tak of the house B'Atan, and it is an honor to meet you. I'm curious as to why you, who I can tell also has Bajoran blood in you, are here in this bar. Maybe a member of the honorable Maquis."

"Sorry, my friend, not the Maquis but working for a private owner. My boss is looking for a weapons-dealer. Got any ideas on who could help?"

From nearby, she heard the sound of a fight going on, but neither her nor Kan'Tak were willing to give up this challenge when honor was on the line. The sound of a chain could be heard, and she guessed that it must be Maxwell Cadere, who wouldn't need any help with his reputation.

Kan'Tak looked like he was thinking as minutes passed, and Gritta decided to make a final assault in this challenge. Pushing as hard as she could, she managed to start moving his arm. Suddenly, he growled loudly and pushed with all his strength, smashing her fist painfully into the table with a loud crack.

She bit her teeth down hard until the pain dulled to an ignorable level as the Klingon let go. She bowed her head to him and got up from the table. He stood up as well and spoke,

"I do not know any here on Kal-Dixas, and I'm sorry I can't help you. Gritta, there is no dishonor in falling before a superior enemy, and only honor in the attempt. ghIj qet jaghmeyjaj { May your enemies run with fear }."

Turning as she slipped her glove back on, she noticed Mr Gordon motioning her over to an empty seat next to him at the bar. Sitting down, she ordered a large Romulan ale before turning to her boss.

"Gritta, it is no slight to your honor but try not to get in any more incidents. We are looking for weapons dealers, not fights. I assume you noticed Mr Cadere's combat."

Her drink arrived and she drank from the large metal cup, glad that the barkeep knew and practised the Klingon tradition of serving drinks in metal cups. Gordon smiled,

"That includes getting drunk, although I suppose with your Klingon constitution, that is an unneccessary thought."

"While I was arm-wrestling, I questioned my opponent about weapons dealers. Unfortunatly, he did not know any dealers on Kal-Dixas. Also, I think that quite a few patrons heard about me looking for dealers, so it might bring some out into the open."

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Gritta of the House Krotmag, Private shuttle Spitfire

Mengar moved over to the end of the bar, trying to remove himself from the centre of fighting. He was able to keep a watchful eye on the gallant crew of the SPITFIRE - if they should need his help, that is. But they struck Mengar as a group who not only knew how to fight, but revelled in the thick of an old-fashioned donneybrook. Despite discretion being the watchword of the day the rest of the patrons took the crew's ruckus in stride; this was par for them, it seemed.

Loving a good brawl himself, Mengar would have preferred the open honesty of reckless combat than the shadowy skullduggery of information-sifting. He was far from his native element. His usual job was to pierce through the caches of darkness his enemies hid in, instead of hiding in them himself.

" Give me a rum moccacino. " He ordered the barkeep, trying to ignore the man's blank expression at the drink. He kept his head low, trying to avoid recognition from an unknown direction. He had been here before and had no idea who was left who might see through his disguise.

" Moccacino? What sort of drink is that? " The bartender asked.

Mengar sighed. " Just replicate it and leave me alone to drink it. " He answered the squattish bolian with a somber expression.

" Can't replicate it if I don't know what's in it! " The man grumbled. Suddenly a woman's deep voice broke through the din, interrupting any response Mengar was about to offer.

" Three or four millimeters of chocolate syrup and two millimeters of rum inside a large Terran coffee of a dark blend. " Said the woman. " And if I remember correctly, our guest will prefer the four millimteres of chocolate. "

Mengar looked up to the voice's origin. Standing before him, with her arms akimbo, was Almieretta Chase. His teeth clenched in trepidation.

She folded her arms and stared Mengar in the face. " It took you a while, but you're back. To what do we owe this great pleasure? " She inquired sweetly sarcastically.

Mengar put on his best winning smile. " Why Miss Chase. Whatever... " A backhand savagely swept across his face before he could continue the rest of his statement...

"A small lead"
by Jeramiha Gordon

Gordon and Clay were busy moving around Slice of Risa Bar, introducing themselves to people in the hopes of hooking up with local weapons dealers. Preferably, ones which were not afraid of dealing in biogenic weapons. The two men were not having very much luck, but that soon changed.

"Excuse me gentlemen," a fur covered Yridian asked placing a hand on Clay's upper arm, "are either of you interested in fine furs, or precious gems?"

Clay turned and faced the Yridian. He looked old and wrinkled, but then he had to remember, that's how all Yridian's look. Gordon turned too, but what caught his attention first was not the man's appearance, but his smell. The furs he was wearing had a rank, musky odor that was not very pleasant.

"Whew, I hope you're not referring to these smelly things 'mate." Gordon said pointing at the furs.

"These and more like them." The Yridian commented, brushing the fur proudly.

"I don't think we are interested." Clay said flatly, now that the smell had caught him as well.

"I see," the Yridian said sadly, lowering his head. "But if not interested in furs, maybe my gems would interest you?"

Gordon shook his head, "I don't think so 'mate." He said with as polite of a smile as he could muster, given the stench.

"Please," the Yridian said looking worried, "If I do not make a sale in the next few minutes, the owner of this establishment will have me thrown out. It's cold outside and I have no latinum..."

It was a pathetic sight really. Clay looked at Gordon who inclined his head to take pity on the trader.

"We are not interested in furs or gems old man," Clay explained, "but we might be interested in information."

The Yridian's ears perked up like a dog being asked if he wants to go out for a walk. "Really? Why I have an abundance of information that I would be willing to share with you if you would be willing to share your latinum with me." the man smiled with his tiny, pointy, rat-like teeth.

"That might be possible mister...?"

"Yranac. I am sorry, it's difficult to talk with such a dry throat...." The Yridinan made a face and smacked his dry lips several times while looking up at Gordon and Clay.

Gordon smiled. "Why don't you join us for a drink 'mate and we can talk about your abundance of information?"

Rubbing his hands together eagerly, the Yridian motioned to a booth along the far wall, "Let's have a seat and discuss this gentlemen."

Gordon motioned to Clay to follow the Yridian to the booth, then flagged down one of the cocktail waitresses. After ordering a round of drinks, Gordon sat down next to Clay. Both men opposite the Yridian.

"So what sort of information is of interest to you gentlemen humm?" Yranac asked.

"We are looking to find someone who believes as we do. That free trade in the quadrant should extend to all forms of merchandise." Gordon explained.

"So, you are traders of some sort is it?" Yranac commented.

"We import and export various items to places and people that prefer to remain nameless." Clay replied.

"Might I ask what sort of items?... to better understand the nature of your business of course." Yranac smiled.

"Well 'mate," Gordon injected, "Let's just say dangerous, and deadly merchandise when used properly, and leave it at that."

The waitress returned with the three drinks Gordon had ordered. The Australian tipped his hat and paid for the drinks with latinum. The waitress smiled and walked off. Both Clay and Gordon admired the elegant tattoo that decorated her lower back. As their attentions returned to the Yridian, he sat there impatiently staring at the drink resting before Gordon.

"Here you go friend." Gordon said sliding the drink across, "bottoms up 'mate."

Yranac took the drink and eagerly took several swallows from the tall glass. A smile was on his face when he finally placed the glass back down. "Much better, thank you."

"Right 'mate. Now, we need to meet someone that we heard works out of this space port. He deals in the same sorts of merchandise as we do." Gordon explained.

"Right. We heard he, or she as the case might be," Clay commented, "could get a hold of certain types of biological.... merchandise, that we need to get a large supply of to fill an order."

Yranac looked at the two men, "Biological merchandise? Humm, If I didn't know better, I might assume you were talking about biological weapons. But of course, those are highly illegal in this quadrant and haven't been used for decades..." the Yridian tossed up.

Gordon smiled. "But of course 'mate. You wouldn't know of anyone locally who deals in such... merchandise? Would you by chance?"

The Yridian lowered his head, his eyes sifting from side to side as he licked his lips before taking a small sip from his drink. "I might know someone... But to tell you would be very risky friend. Unless it was worth my wild..."

"We would pay handsomely for the right information that would let us complete our clients order request." Clay responded.

Gordon nodded, placing a stack of latinum slips on the table in a neat stack. "He's right 'mate. And there's more where that came from if the info's good."

Yranac looked at the latinum and his eyes grew a bit wider. Looking back at the two men, he asked, "How do I know you are not with the local authorities? Anyone dealing in this sort of merchandise is subject to the death sentence in seven neighboring systems."

"You need not concern yourself with that friend." Clay reassured, "We simply want you to hook us up with whomever can provide us, and our client, with what they are looking for. There is no law against that, is there?"

Yranac looked at Clay and then back at the short stack of latinum slips. Licking his lips again, he reached for the money and said, "I don't suppose there is in that."

Gordon smiled. "Then tell us, who do we need to speak to in this town 'mate? Whom would be able to provide us with the biological weapons we need to fill this order?"

Again the Yridian got shifty eyed and began looking around the Slice of Risa bar to see if anyone was watching him speak to these two men. "There is an arms dealer, a very successful one, that stops here frequently to do business and have his space ship serviced. He's a fat Ferengi named Eldor. He's loud, and often enjoys the company of several Terran women."

"This Eldor, when was he in here last?" Clay asked.

"I've not seen him tonight. But I know he is in town as his ship is still docked in the space dock. He may show up later, I can not say for sure." Yranac said drinking the last of his drink.

"Could you set up a meeting between this Eldor and us 'mate?" Gordon asked.

The Yridian shook his head. "No. Eldor does not like me or the furs I deal in normally. He would not listen to anything I had to say. But you... you two he would listen to if he were to come in. He is here almost every night when his ship is in town. He will be here, that I am sure."

"It would be worth extra latinum if you could make the introduction 'mate." Gordon baited.

A glint brightened the Yridian's eye for a moment, but then he shook his head. "No, Eldor said he would have me killed if I ever bothered him again. He is a powerful man. I will not risk it."

"Very well 'mate. Thank you for the info. I guess we will stick around until this fat Ferengi shows up."

"You will not be able to miss him. He is very fat, and is also very loud. Thank you for the drink, and the latinum." Yranac said as he began to get up, again looking to see if anyone was watching.

"Pleasure was mine 'mate. Good luck with peddling your furs." Gordon said as the Yridian left, disappearing in the crowd.

Clay looked at Gordon. "That sounded promising sir."

"Aye. Promising yes. We will know for sure if this Ferengi, Eldor, shows up as the Yridian said." Gordon commented in a not too certain tone, "Let's check up on the others and see if they have had any luck yet."

"Sounds like a plan sir." Clay said as both men got up from the booth to find their six other compatriots.

Galaxy "The Attack Pt.1"
Written by Kahn Nilani
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galaxy

::Picking up the Phaser:: "Garu!!!!" I called

["Yes Doctor."] she cried out

"Garu, protect the patients I don't want any getting hurt."

["Yes Doctor. You will look after your self too?"]

"Yep, sure will."

["Well doctor remember they use sharp knives in close combat. So watch out o.k."]

"Thanx Garu. You look after yourself too, Garu take this." ::throws a type 1 phaser::

["Very well doctor. Thank you."]

I picked up the other phaser and checked the charge. Just then there was an explosion outside, debris flew everywhere and landed all over the place.

"Oh Sh*t" (pardon any offence) :: I ducked just in time::

"Get the patients to a safer area." I called out

["Yes Doctor."] one of the nurses said

Just then there was laser fire coming through the cave entrance.

"EVERYONE DOWN!!!!!!!!!"

As the Helpers were falling back the Rhomboid entered the caves

"The Bar"
By Kal'Gor

Kal'Gor had managed to move away from Gritta who was arm-wrestling with another Klingon and Rune who was now watching her back. Kal'Gor could still see them and they certainly could see him as he was standing among a group of Frengi merchants. He knew the captain had said to stay together or with close proximity. Which was in close proximity to the others in his group.

"Greetings," Kal'Gor said in diplomatic terms to this group of Frengi

"Klingon what do you want?" one of them asked.

"I am looking for an arms merchant that can provide my house with weapons." Kal'Gor responded.

"Why, I thought Gowron and the high council had ordered no inter-house fighting while the war with Dominion goes on .. " He let his sentence trail off, he realized that the Klingon was seeking weapons to help in the war effort instead of to use against a rival house, not that any of it really mattered to him.

"True Growon and the Klingon high council did order such, though it is never wise to be caught un-prepared. Besides I seek to rearm some of our older ships with more modern weaponry to fight the Dominion with, as the more victor the house of K'Lorgor can earn the better of our house will be!" Kal'Gor said as he continued to glance at where Gritta and the other Klingon where engaged in productive work.

"What kind of weapons?" a different one inquired.

"Heavy weapons, quantum torpedoes and photon torpedoes and similar hardware." Kal'Gor said handing the Freingi a Klingon padd with the precise information on the weapons his house was seeking.

"This quite a list." commented another Feringi, "You'd do best to see Eldor another Ferigni merchant that also operates here, from time to time. I do believe that his ship is still here, and might catch him coming in tonight."

"I thank for the information, perhaps you could introduce me and my companion to him when he arrives." Kal'Gor said placing a stack of latinium strips before the five Ferngi.

"Who would your friend be?"

"Gritta she is over the arm wrestling with another Klingon." Kal'Gor said in response to the question. How would he explain the presence of the human Rune. "And one other a human that expert in weapons technology and tell how good or bad a weapon's construction is."

"Ah, a sensible Klingon, I never thought I'd see one." the fifth one responded.

"We'd be glad to introduce you to him, if and when he shows. Eldor is a fat Feringi that enjoys huumann female's as companions. When he shows you'll know him, come back here with your friends and will go talk with him." The first one responded, with profit on his mind, they might be able to serve as intermediates between this Klingon and Eldor.

Chris Patton

"Jilted, tilted and stuffed"
by Jeramiha Gordon

Mengar looked up to the voice's origin. Standing before him, with her arms akimbo, was Almieretta Chase. His teeth clenched in trepidation.

She folded her arms and stared Mengar in the face. "It took you a while, but you're back. To what do we owe this great pleasure?" She inquired sweetly sarcastically.

Mengar put on his best winning smile. "Why Miss Chase. Whatever..."

A backhand savagely swept across his face before he could continue the rest of his statement...

"You bastard!" Chase spat out, "How could you possibly have the nerve to come in here after what you did? I waited for you. For three whole days I waited..."

Mengar tilted his head slightly while rubbing a hand across his reddened face. Sparing the rod was not in Almieretta's repartee.

"Sorry. Plans changed. There wasn't time to let you know in person. Didn't you get my note?"

"I got it all right you Phutock! After I returned to Dauntus III." Almieretta retorted.

"You went back?" Mengar commented in a shocked tone, "With all of the fighting still going on?"

"Damn straight I did. I had to find out why you didn't show up. It's not like you to not keep your word like that. When you didn't make the rendezvous, I though you ran into trouble so I went back."

Almieretta's eyes looked deep into Mengar's as if searching for a spark that once burned there. Probing to see if anything remained between these one time lovers other than the bitterness and hatred Chase felt after being abandoned unexpectantly.

"I am sorry you didn't get the note Almieretta..." was all Mengar was able to manage.

Another back hand struck the towering Mengar's face. "Don't call me that! The name is Chase. Only my friends address me by my proper name,... and you've lost that privilege you dog."

Almieretta Chase again crossed her arms and gave Mengar a wicket stare as he rubbed the opposite side of his face. While they were staring at each other in screaming silence, the Bolian slid Mengar's rum m

occacino across the bar,... then quickly left.

Mengar took the drink and swirled the plastic mixing stick, combining the drink's ingredients nervously while looking at the brooding Almieretta. After a moment, she reached under the bar. For a split second, Mengar's heart skipped a beat thinking she would draw a weapon, blast him where he sat just out of spite for leaving her as he did. His eyes widened, but then narrowed when he saw it was a container of whipping cream which she began the shake before topping off his drink.

Almieretta had a smirk on her face, "What? Did you think I was going to blast you or something?"

"The thought did cross my mind." Mengar responded. After a moment, he added, "You've done good for yourself here Chase."

"It's a living." Almieretta answered, putting the cream container away, "I get to pretty much do as I choose, and the authorities more or less leave me alone. So what brings you to this part of the galaxy Ursa?"

"Mengar." He said quickly, then smiled, "If I must call you Chase, then you must call me Mengar."

"Mengar is it now? My, what is that? The third name I have had to call you in so many years?" Almieretta replied with a smirk, then with a more serious look, "so, Mengar, what brings you to Kal-Dixas space port?"

"Actually, believe it or not, you do."

Almieretta placed her hands on her hips and had a very leery look rest on her face. "Having a sudden change in heart? Decided that you can't live without me after all?"

"Actually, I think you know better than that Chase. You were a big girl, you knew what you were doing back on Dauntus."

"That's not the point! Oh, you just don't get women at all do you?" Chase spat back.

"Never have, and probably never will." He replied candidly.

Something about his candor made Almieretta smile. It reminded her of the fun times they did share together for a brief time, before he up and left her. "Then why are you here Mengar?"

Mengar took a sip from his drink while carefully glancing around the bar. "I was hoping you could lead me to a weapons dealer that works out of this space port. He might of done some business recently involving biological weapons."

Almieretta grabbed a towel and began washing some hand crafted glassware while appearing to be having nothing to do with Mengar at all. "There is only one dealer here that would have anything to do with biologicals. That would be Eldor."

"Eldor?" Mengar asked, also pretending not to be speaking with the owner of Slice of Risa.

"Yes, he's a Ferengi arms dealer that stops by Kal-Dixas regularly. I think he's in town, at least he was in here yesterday. He was boasting of a big delivery he was putting together for a client that was funding a small little war."

"What ship is he on?" Mengar asked while nursing his drink.

"The RACKTOR. Probably docked at the space ports now so it can be loaded. He comes in every night. Hard to miss. He's fat and always has two or more women with him when he arrives."

"And this Eldor is the only one here at Kal-Dixas that would deal in biological weapons?" Mengar asked.

"Yes, as far as I know. Everyone else stays away from them. If anyone asked, they would probably be referred to Eldor. It's sort of his niche."

"I see. Well thanks. That should help." Mengar replied, still looking at the mirrors behind the oval bar and not at Chase.

"You looking to buy weapons Mengar? What ever happened to that cushy Fed job you were at?"

Mengar shot Chase a quick look. "I'd rather not talk about that. With you or anyone else if you get my meaning..."

Almieretta put on a wry grin, "Still the secretive one I see."

"Hard to teach old dogs new tricks." Mengar said as he finished his drink, "Tell your bartender, he needs practice on his rum moccacino."

"Not as good as mine?" Almieretta asked as she took the cup.

"Not even close." Mengar said with a smile before getting up and walking away from the bar.

Almieretta watched her tall, exlover as he walked off and disappeared in the crowd. Her thoughts drifted back to the time they had many years ago.

"Friend of yours?" the Bolian bartender asked.

"Not anymore." She said handing the empty coffee cup to him, "Not anymore." She repeated as she turned and walked away.

*****

Gordon and Clay left the Yridian and began walking about Slice of Risa trying to locate some of the crew members that had accompanied them from the SPITFIRE.

"That looks like Kal'Gor over there talking to that table of Ferengi." Clay said quietly to Gordon.

"Is there a fat Ferengi with them 'mate?" Gordon asked craning his neck, "If so, that might be this Eldor we were told about."

"No, just a few Ferengi. And no pretty women either." Clay noted.

"Well, let's leave Kal'Gor be until he finishes with his conversations. Look, over there, Gritta seems to be talking to those Klingons she is arm wrestling with." Gordon pointed.

"Yes, and Rune is standing by watching. I haven't seen Cadere... where did he go off too?" Clay asked.

"I think he slipped out with one of those women he was speaking with 'mate. Either that or he's moved to the other side of the bar." Gordon offered.

Glancing around the room, Clay saw the towering Mengar walking over. "There's Mengar."

Gordon turned as Mengar stood next to them. "Any luck 'mate?" Gordon asked.

"I spoke to the owner sir. Seems the only weapons dealer in town that is known to deal in biologicals is a Ferengi named Eldor." Mengar explained.

"Aye. That is the same name we got from a Yridian trader a few minutes ago. He's supposed to be in town here. We were told that he may show up here later on this evening." Gordon relayed.

"His ship is called the RACKTOR. It is most likely docked at the space port. Eldor was supposedly in here the last couple days bragging about a big shipment of weapons to a client that is funding a little war..."

"That could be our man." Clay commented.

"I agree. This Fat Ferengi sounds like the best lead we have on where those biological weapons came from. Let's see what the others found out before deciding if we should go and locate his ship, or wait for him to arrive here." Gordon suggested.

"That sounds reasonable sir. I believe I saw Cadere on the other side of the bar." Mengar informed pointing back with is thumb, "He was prancing around like some kind of peacock or something by the looks of it."

Gordon and Clay gave each other a glance, "That was Cadere all right. Go and signal him to join us. We saw Gritta, Kal'Gor and Rune over there. I'll let them know we need to talk. Clay, see if you can locate Kruger and have him join the rest of us. We'll meet over near that booth in ten minutes." Gordon pointed.

Clay and Mengar each nodded as they and Gordon broke up to gather the others and see what they had learned in their investigations so far.

"Without a Thought"
by Rune Vandersway

The chalky air burned Rune’s lungs with every breath. It was the classic bar seen: smoke rings hanging in the air (they came from somewhere, but he couldn’t spot the point of their birth), prostitutes hanging around, and the violence of drunken slobs. An example of the later could be seen before him. Gritta, one of his companions, was arm-wrestling a fellow Klingon for some reason or another. Neither one showed any sign of giving in. Just when Rune was about to say something to Gritta, a fight broke out at the other end of the bar. Without a second thought Rune was on his feet, struggling through the crowd to see who was involved in the skirmish. Little to his surprise, Max Cadere was in the center of it.

A battered and bloody Klingon was the opposing force. However, Max seemed to have lost control of his faculties. Without relent, he continued to strike at the already beaten man.

"Now, you will die easy!” His voice echoed throughout the building like a banshee’s scream.

“He’s mad!” Rune shouted. He couldn’t believe that Max was actually going to kill the man. Before he knew it, Rune felt his hand resting on the handle of his weapon. It would be easy to take Max out with a shot, but Rune faltered for a moment, waiting to see what the man’s next move was.

With hell’s flames jetting from his eyes, Max jammed his knife into the Klingon. It tore through his abdominal cavity till it came to a rest, the tip of the blade visible through the man’s back. Rune drew his pistol out and leveled at Max. Just as his finger was about to pull the trigger, a hand appeared in front of his face. It grabbed the barrel of the phaser pistol, turning its sights away from their target.

The sudden action made Rune jump back a bit, and he lost his grip on the weapon. He quickly turned to see that the hand belonged to his long-time friend John Clay, who stared at him intensely. Rune planed to protest, but after looking into John’s eyes, he simply nodded and reholsted his weapon. A loud crash was heard as Max threw the defeated Klingon into the streets.

“What the hell is wrong with the man! This bastard has crossed the line! If he ever does something like this again when I’m around…oh god! I’m starting to sound like him.” Max was insane, that was plain to see now. Rune would never turn his back to the man again.

“Well, he can count his lucky stars that I was here to stop you. Can’t say I would regret his death though.” John always seemed to be there to look out for Rune. “We found a lead Rune. Jeramiha and I were able to buy some info from a local merchant. Come on, I’ll fill you in while we gather the others.” Quickly the two men merged into the crowd in search of their comrads.

=/\= Surgical Strikes Pt 2 =/\=
By Ensign Matthew Albrecht

The two warriors, one Starfleet and one Dronegar, scrambled along the bottom of the drainage channel trying to find a way up to the tunnel system that criss-crossed below the streets. They were running almost ten minutes behind already, and had no way of knowing how many extra minutes they would spend trying to get their bearings in the tunnels. With time such a critical factor in Akira’s wild ambush plan, each minute meant the deaths of more Dronegarian guerillas.

"You were mistaken in following me into the channel, Terran." Ginon repeated his lament, which he had kept up since Matthew had slid down the broken wall after the scaley humanoid. "Neither of us is a Tracker, we will surely be lost and I am dying anyway. You have doomed the ambush with your foolhardy decision."

Matthew turned to face the reptilian man. "Shut up!" he said, intending to follow up with additional verbal incentive for the Preparer to stop lecturing him. Instead, the ensign shoved the Dronegarian onto the ground. Matthew then fired his phaser at the railing above, and dove left to avoid a laser blast that threw up chunks of concrete and dirt. Matthew landed in shallow, cold water, where he steadied himself and fired again. The Rhomboid Delta took the second shot straight to the shoulder, and fell from the railing above. Two more Rhombid arrived at the rail, to see what had happened to their fellow. Matthew fired at the concrete wall below the railing, using his highest setting. The rail collapsed, skipping down the chasm’s concrete face. The two soldiers clung to it as it smashed them against the wall repeatedly. They fell the remaining fifteen feet to the ground, lying still at the bottom.

"Get their weapons!" hissed the young officer to Ginon. He replaced his phaser clip, then fired again at the base of the railing further along the canal. More of the railing dropped down until the end actually reached the ground near them. As Matthew started climbing up the rail, he turned to see Ginon slitting the throats of each Rhomboid. Ginon then slung their lasers over his shoulder and confiscated several grenades, then joined the Starfleet officer on the rail.

------------------ at the second ambush -----------------

They had heard the sounds of combat for several minutes before arriving at the rendezvous/ambush. They zig-zagged through alleys, using the sounds as a guide to the battle. The Rhomboid APC was laying down heavy fire at a pair of buildings ahead of it, while most of the troops appeared to have gone in search of their attackers. A small howitzer-like artillery unit stood on its trailer on the left side of the street with no apparent guards.

Matthew felt the heavy burden of responsibility for the extra losses to Akira’s troops. He was actually surprised that they had lasted as long as they had against the Rhombid troops. He hoped that his attack here would draw the enemy away from Akira’s retreating guerillas.

With no Rhombid looking in his direction, Matthew just lay down in the street to fire on the underside of the Armored truck. Remembering the point to concentrate his fire, he squeezed the phaser rifle’s trigger for a full two seconds. The APC burst open like an overripe pumpkin, throwing bits of its contents for dozens of meters in every direction. Matthew ran for cover, dodging a few laser blasts on his way.

Ginon wasted no time—he aimed his laser rifle at the crates of artillery ammunition stacked on the cannon’s trailer. The laser’s whine seemed somehow amplified, until the shell’s explosions shook the ground they stood on like it was gelatin. The artillery unit was severely damaged by the explosion, and the Rhomboid soldiers in the area were temporarily silenced.

Matthew and Ginon ran across the devastated street and into the most damaged building. Matthew drew his hand-held phaser, ready for action. It surprised the security officer to find that all those combat, tactical and marksmanship courses at the academy had stuck with him. He had actually hit most of his targets, and was employing all the defensive tricks that had been drilled into him. *Don’t get cocky, kid* he reminded himself. *You’re not out of the woods yet!*

Matthew set his phaser to stun. He was concerned about the possible collateral damage he could cause in this already damaged building. Rafters and struts hung down from the ceiling, sunlight poured through holes in the outer walls and plaster dust clouded the air. Sounds came in from the building’s front that let the ensign know the Rhombid were gathering in the street again. He cursed under his breath—the Rhombid had most likely finished off most of Akira’s gang.

After minutes of searching and finding only dead Rhombid and Dronegarians, Ginon and Matthew stumbled across a camouflaged doorway set into a hallway floor. Four sets of boot prints led to it, but only one led away from it. Ginon found a recessed handle on the trapdoor, but couldn’t pull the door up. Finally they had to use the phaser as a torch to cut the door open. This was surely the route to the next ambush, assuming Akira’s remaining forces intended to be there.

As they followed the tracks left in the dust of the tunnel, Matthew reflected on the bravery he had witnessed from this planet’s people. When he started this assignment, he was convinced that Dronegar only wanted peace because they were losing this war. He felt sure that both sides of this conflict were capable of equal atrocities. He knew that people had a tendency to ally themselves emotionally with the underdogs, and schooled himself to resist that urge. He had joined Akira’s guerilla force from necessity, and with a ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ mentality. Now, having fought by the side of the average people of Dronegar, non-soldiers protecting their homes and lives from a conquering force, he felt a true kinship to them. Perhaps the bloodthirsty, ruthless, inhumane Dronegarians had been killed right off in the attack on the capitol. These men and women were real people trying to survive. Matthew was proud to be with them.

--------------- Below the city ----------------

Akira stood while her two compatriots sat against walls in the cramped basement. She was pale and hopeless looking. The others stared at the floor.

Akira continued her mourning-song for the lost lives of her people. She dropped her useless, empty weapon on the ground next to the others. The three were convinced they would not fight again this day. They were more sorry for their inability to complete their mission than for their lost comrades, who died honorably. Many Rhombid lost their lives this day also.

Ginon walked directly to the center of their group before any of them noticed him arrive. He handed a laser rifle to each of the two squatting men, keeping one for himself. Akira almost smiled, her eyes lit up, as Matthew Albrecht followed Ginon in. "Matthew!" she exclaimed.

"Akira, it is good to see you have survived," said the ensign, with genuine relief in his voice. "Now we can finish off the artillery headed for the Triad Hachurui." Matthew put out his hand in the Terran fashion, and Akira took it. "Here, you may need this," he handed her his type I phaser. She did not miss the significance of his offer.

---------------- Minutes later ----------------

Matthew and Akira crouched side-by-side in the debris-strewn alleyway. Ginon and the other two were making their way to the front of the line. The five had drastically re-written their plan to allow for their reduced force. Matthew thought it was reckless, but wisely kept his own counsel. They hid behind slabs of building materials until the Rhombid were mostly past.

As Matthew peered through a crack in some plastic sheeting, he realized that this line was larger than the other two. They had been joined by stragglers from the other two lines! Also, the force was distributed around the APC and the tank. "They know," whispered Matthew. He turned to find Akira only inches from his face, staring through the same tear at the Rhombid line. He decided then that Dronegarian women smelled pleasantly like sandalwood, at least this one did. Matthew returned his mind to the Rhombid, rebuking himself for being distracted.

After the line advanced past their position, the two allies moved to the opening of the alley. Matthew didn’t have a clear shot to the underside of the tank. Too many Rhombid legs blocked his sight. Akira whispered "looks like at least a hundred of the evil creatures, Matthew." She gripped his shoulders protectively.

"AAAYAAGHH!" came from above as two Rhombid soldiers dropped in on them. The first one clubbed Akira aside with the butt of his cutlass-like sword, knocking her down and spraying green blood across the pavement. The second one kicked Matthew in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Both Rhomboid Deltas laughed at their prey and stood back to gloat, their albino skin glowing evilly in the light from the sunset from the West.

The weakened and sick Dronegarian stood up shakily to face her opponent, while Ensign Albrecht faced his foe with a grim expression. Matthew crouched into a well-drilled academy taught fighting stance. The opponents circled until Akira and Matthew were back-to-back.

Akira lunged in, her opponent dodging easily, and slapping her face hard to show his superiority. The Rhombid were toying, sure of their abilities and the mastery of their race. Akira swung with her left fist, aiming for the Delta’s head with little apparent energy. The Vulcanoid slapped her hand away, then kicked her hard in the chest—she fell back into Matthew, but regained her feet by seemingly sheer luck.

Matthew traded blows with his Rhomboid foe, his lip and hand red with blood and the other’s right eyebrow gashed open. He looked at his opponent with a cold look, like a sheet of icy rain. The Rhomboid was relatively fresh, while Matthew was tiring from almost continuous action.

"Dronegarian whore, you will lick the blood of this Federationer from the ground when we are done with you." He slashed at her stomach with his cutlass, expecting little opposition from his weakened victim. Akira brought her true strength out of reserves, she had been bluffing. She swept upward, taking his sword hand in hers and swinging the blade up to his throat. She almost succeeded in slicing him open from chin to chest, but he resisted enough that his carotid was spared. Nonetheless, his blood gurgled in his throat, and he fell to the ground thrashing around.

Meanwhile, Matthew knew he wasn’t winning his fight. He called back to memories of hand-to-hand combat training with K’Pach, son of Worg. He remembered how the old klingon sadist always beat him soundly. Typically, the cadet would become bored with the fighting, and start to think of other things, which is exactly when K’Pach would use a particular throw on him. Now if only this damn Rhomboid would get distracted for only a split second . . .

As Akira caught her opponent by surprise, the soldier Matthew was fighting glanced over at his comrade. Matthew swept his leg under the Rhomboid, pulling his feet out from under him, and setting him up for the kidney punch while in midair—a particularly nasty move he never thought he could complete. *I’m full of surprises today!* thought the momentarily victorious ensign.

Matthew grabbed his rifle and headed for the alley’s open end. Akira finished off their other opponent, and took her cutlass souvenir. By now grenades were going off in the midst of the Rhombid, and laser fire had decimated the jeep. The other Dronegars were making quite a successful little raid, no doubt helped by their growing reputation.

Akira cleared a path between the enemy with the phaser pistol, so Matthew could get a clear shot at the APC maneuvering to fire on Ginon’s location. Matthew took aim and fired a long beam into the fuel cells. When the truck exploded, most of the Rhombid standing nearby to defend it were taken out along with it. Disorder overtook the remaining fifty or so soldiers as they reoriented themselves to cope with the new situation.

The tank began to rotate its turret back toward Matthew and Akira’s position. He aimed at the turret mechanism, because he had no clear shot at the underside of the tank. A loud thumping sound came from the west, only at the last moment distinguishing itself from the grenades and machineguns around him. Matthew looked up to see a dangerous, wasp-like attack flyer. It hovered almost directly above them, firing high-caliber ammunition at Ginon’s rooftop. They couldn’t see the rooftop from their position, but Akira let out a soft moan as she realized her fellows were dying around her. Matthew turned his rifle skyward, and fired his remaining power into the fin-mounted missile pod of the chopper. It crashed into a building across the way, sending burning fuel all over the retreating Rhombid.

The tank had turned its turret to face the two exhausted fighters, and had only hesitated to fire because of the distraction of the flyer crash. As it rolled out of the flames, patches of fuel burning all over it, the armored unit lowered its barrel toward Matthew and Akira. Matthew took the phaser away from her, and hit the overload command. He slid it across the pavement, sending it under the body of the tank. He pushed Akira into the debris and leapt atop her, piles of crates and packing material falling all over them. The overload produced a loud whine, followed by a muffled ‘ka-pow’ that shook their hiding place like a wrecking ball, shrapnel spraying the alley like confetti.

The two warriors, one a Tracker, the other a student of law, lay quiet and still for quite a while.

Ensign Matthew Albrecht
Security officer, USS Galaxy NCC 70637

“The hypospray is mighter than the thug.”
by John Clay

The discussion with the Yridian fur merchant Yranac had yielded a small but optimistic lead to the biological merchandise the SPITFIRE crew were interested in obtaining. The rather distinctive odour from his rank furs were not exactly the most pleasant smell that Clay had smelt in the bar. Eventhough Yranac was now gone it had left an overwhelming influence on his nasal passages. The conversation that Mengar had with the owner of the bar seemed to confirm Yranac’s information. So it was a fat Ferengi they were after.

The fat Ferengi Eldor would, according to Yranac, eventually come to the bar as per his motis operandi when at Kal-Dixas. How difficult would it to distinguish a fat Ferengi. No doubt he was as successful at practicing the Rules of Acquisition as he was physically ‘enhanced’. Clay realised that for this profit-monger the latinum would be high, especially considering Rule 62 - the riskier the road, the greater the profit. He didn’t know many of the Rules but he had heard that one at least several times. As a Ferengi it was likely that Eldor would have a price and considering the illegality of the biologicals it would most definitely be a high price. Clay had never seen a Ferengi who could refuse the chance to acquire more latinum. That’s what they were counting on.

He noticed a table full of Ferengi, however, there wasn’t a fat one amung them. Perhaps they were from Eldor’s vessel? Not only would the Ferengi they sought be fat but also be likely to be surrounded by women. Wealth also seemed to increase the desire for the more lavish things in life and Ferengi often found humans women extremely lavish. It was probably more of a novelty since Ferengi women are forbidden to wear clothing. Perhaps they felt that the number of human women was proportional to welath, or something rediculous like that. After having heard Ferengi complain about the liberties human men give their female counterparts it made him wonder.

So what now? Gordon had asked Clay to find Kruger. So where was he? Clay scouted the vicinity of the bar most of his associates were located in, however, he wasn’t able to locate the man he looked for. Clay continued to move around the bar by himself when he noticed the young cocktail waitress with the rather exotic tattoo. He and Gordon had both taken the time to admire it before when they were talking to Yranac. It was certainly a unique piece of body art.

“What are you doing there buddy?” the young woman turned around unimpressed by his obvious preoccupation with her lower back.

“Please excuse me Miss?” he replied to her inquiry only after getting a little embarrassed for starring.

“None of your damn business.” she answered bluntly.

“Well Ms. none-of-your-damn-business, I was admiring intricacy of your tattoo.” he came back with a little sarcasm, “It has a very aesthetic quality. I’ve never quite seen one that detailed before.”

“Cute, I’m suprised you haven’t been killed yet.” she said with a swift verbal attack. Thinking about what she was saying she continued with a less aggravated tone, “Well thanks for the comment though, it isn’t the tattoo that gets the most attention around here. IF you know my meaning.” she said in a tone that was between being disgusted and flattered.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure it doesn’t. Anyways, I really must be off. I’m kind of looking for someone and I . . . .” Clay said as he began to move away.

Not sure of what to say he gave her a brief smile and resumed looking for Kruger. Clay was a gentleman unlike some of the behaviour displayed by the rufians in this establishment. The young woman may not have had the most respectable occupation, in some peoples eyes, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t deserve respect. Clay continued in his search for the missing member of the SPITFIRE crew. Clay had successfully navigated his way to the other side of the bar without any sign of Kruger. Making his way back to the others he kept a sharp eye out for one Jack Kruger He was convinced that he had been paying attention, however, the haze certainly made it difficult to see properly.

“Excuse me man, but you are in my way.” a rather large man said moving in front of Clay.

“Oh great, that’s all I need now.” Clay though to himself hoping to see one of his comrades in the near vacinity to come to assistance.

“I SAID, you’re in my way.” the drunkard repeated himself.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll get out of your way.” Clay replied with the intention of navigating around the colossus.

He wasn’t in the mood for a fight and he didn’t really have the time for it either. Clay hadn’t even gotten a couple of meters away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and that same voice rang in his ears, “You are either deaf or stupid boy. I told you that you were in my way. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

Clay turned around looking at the bulk of a man that seemed to be insistent on a confrontation of some sort. The thug grabbed Clay by the neck and pulled back his hand ready to punch the young man. Clay, in his struggle to be freed, pulled out a hypospray he had concealed earlier with the alcohol anti-toxin. Swiftly adjusting the settings, he placed the small device against the thug’s neck and the great mass fell to the floor almost instantaneously. Clay, still in the man’s grasp, almost lost his balance as his Goliath fell.

“Thanks little buddy.” Clay said to his saviour and feeling to see if he still had an intact neck.

The melorazine he had just administered would leave the thug with a nasty headache from the copious amount of alcohol he had obviously been consuming. Stepping over the fallen mass he way back to his comrades. Clay once again ran into the cocktail waitress he had spoken to not long before.

“Interesting move.” she said refering to the hypospray.

“Oh that old trick. “ he said nonchalantly. “I might have to deal with weapons, but it doesn’t mean I have to like them. I kind of prefer a more subtle approach.”

“And you might be exactly who?” she asked, taking a new found interest in Clay.

“Someone who doesn’t like to be asked to many questions.” he said coyly, afterall, she wasn’t exactly forthcoming when he first met her either.

“I see. What of your associate? The pair of you have been asking quite a lot of questions.” she continued to inquire.

“Have we?” he said continuing to be coy.

“You and the older dealer have spoken to quite a lot of customers.”

“You’re quite astute. So, why have you been watching us?”

“It is a part of the job. Get to know the customers.” she said as if she were reciting some Ferengi manual, “If your waiting for Eldor he should be in eventually.”

Clay looked amazed, she really WAS quite observant. “Oh, we may be interested in seeing him. We’ve heard that he might be able to help us obtain some . . . . merchandise.”

The cockatil waitress began to laughed to herself. There was obviously something that Clay was missing but he hadn’t a clue as to what it was. “Help. Eldor doesn’t help anyone but himself. He make you pay through the nose for any information he can provide.”

“WAITRESS!” some roudy customer screamed out.

“Look I better get to that. I can’t afford to lose my job.” she abruptly. “Just make sure that when you speak to Eldor you make it worth his while. Believe me if he can make a profit out of it he’ll sell it - even to the authorities around here.” and with that piece of advice she was gone.

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind.” Clay thanked the young woman who, by now, was already taking another order to fill. As Clay watched her he managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s lobes. A Ferengi? Positioning himself to have a better view Clay saw that indeed it was a Ferengi. The Ferengi appeared to be both fat and have good quality attire. On either side he also had an attractive humanoid woman. Eldor? THE Eldor they wanted to meet? It appeared so. The indiviudal certainly fit the description they had been given.

The young waitress looked at Clay and saw him watching the little group. The fat Ferengi sat there with his little group of female disciples. Talking to Eldor the cocktail waitress pointed to him and Eldor look in his direction. Clay responded with a nod and she nodded back. It was Eldor! At least that what he had understood by her gesture. Eldor beckoned the young man with the wave of a hand. Clay responded by holding up a single finger, imploring the greedy merchant to wa

it a moment so that he could inform Gordon and the others. He also hoped that Kruger had made his way from whatever corner of the bar he was lurking in, obscured from Clay's eyes. If this was indeed Eldor they might not be around much longer.

"Heeeeerrrreeeee'sssss Eldor....."
by Jeramiha Gordon

Gordon was getting the attention of Gritta and Kal'Gor when he noticed Clay waving him down and pointing across the bar. Turning his gaze in that direction, Gordon could see a well dressed, fat Ferengi in the company of two beautiful women.

"What's with that awful music?! " Eldor shouted, "Play something more pleasant would you? And get me a table and some drinks for my companions!"

The Ferengi was loud and boisterous, just as the Yridian had described.

Gordon waved Clay back over. Evidently Kal'Gor and Gritta had seen the Ferengi enter as well, as when Gritta noticed, she quickly finished off her arm wrestling companion, much to his dismay.

"Where are you going!? You can not leave now. Two out of three matches you coward!" the burly, but well wined Klingon slurred.

Gritta let out a round of laughter. "There is no honor in defeating the defeated a second time Bakut. And I do not need the practice." Gritta reached and scooped up a handful of latinum that was on the table, the stakes for their match. Tossing a slip to Bakut, he caught it awkwardly. "Here, get yourself a flask of blood wine. You fought well."

Bakut grumbled as he got up from the table and reluctantly went towards the bar in silence as two new patrons took seats at the table and the wagering began for a new match. Gritta stowed her winnings in her belt as she walked over to where Gordon and Kal'Gor were standing.

"Nice victory 'mate." Gordon commented as he pointed to the arm wrestling booth.

"I was toying with him. He is a flight control officer on a Klingon supply vessel. Unfortunately, he knows nothing of any weapons dealers in this port of call." Gritta explained.

"Well we got a lead on a dealer that may have what we are looking for. A Ferengi named Eldor." Gordon said pointing over where the fat Ferengi and his women companions were sitting down, "He just came into the bar."

Kal'Gor looked at Gordon, "Sir, I was just speaking to a group of Ferengi across the way. They had said that Eldor would be the one to speak to about heavy weaponry."

Gordon nodded, "That checks out then. We now have it from three separate sources that this Eldor is the one to speak to."

"The Ferengi I was speaking with offered to make an introduction with Eldor,... for a price, I assume. They *are* Ferengi after all. They think that Gritta, Rune and I are the only ones seeking weapons." Kal'Gor explained.

Gordon looked around. Cadere, Kruger, and Mengar had not returned yet. Gordon frowned.

"Okay, we need to meet this Eldor and find out if he's sold biological weapons recently, and if so, to whom. I doubt he will be very forth coming with the information, so we will have to proceed carefully. We are a little out of our element here in the bar, so that makes us vulnerable 'mates. Don't take any unnecessary risks. If we can't get what we want here, we'd be better off speaking to Eldor at the space docks where there are less civilians present." Gordon looked around, checking that no one was watching or listening in on their conversations and also hoping to see some of the others from the SPITFIRE. "If we can also find out exactly what sort of virus was used in the weapons, it may help in creating an antidote, or there may already be an antidote which Eldor can provide. See if you can get the other Ferengi to make your introductions Kal'Gor. The rest of us will stand by to watch and provide cover. But remember,..." Gordon's eyes caught Kal'Gor's for a moment, "whatever happens, do not start anything here in the bar. I don't want a fire fight to break out here and have all of these innocent people caught in a cross fire. If things go sour, back out and we can try again at Eldor's ship the RACKTOR. Understand 'mate?"

Kal'Gor, Gritta and Rune all nodded. "I understand." Kal'Gor acknowledged.

"I can use the latinum I just won at the arm wrestling table to bribe the Ferengi into making the introductions." Gritta smiled as she patted her belt pouch and made the jingling sound of coin against coin.

"Let's do it 'mates. We will be watching from around the bar. Be careful...." Gordon instructed.

Kal'Gor, Gritta and Rune made their way over to the booth of Ferengi he'd talked to earlier. Gordon and the rest of the SPITFIRE crew watched from a distance as Kal'Gor spoke to one of the Ferengi and pointed across the room to where Eldor was sitting. After a short negotiation, everyone nodded, and Gritta removed some latinum to secure the introduction.

After checking the money and placing it in his own pouch, the shortest Ferengi motioned for everyone to stay where they were as he approached Eldor. After a minute of groveling and small talk, the Ferengi pointed back at the table where Kal'Gor, Gritta and Rune were standing by and watching. Eldor glanced over and gave them an evaluatory glance before nodding. The other Ferengi came running back quickly, smiling widely.

"He will see you now. You may go to his table. From here on out, you are on your own Klingon."

Kal'Gor gave the puny Ferengi a grunt as he, Gritta and Rune pressed past and approached Eldor's table.

"So Klingon," Eldor started as he leaned back into his chair and held a giant metallic goblet in his hand, "Hark tells me you are interested in purchasing weapons for the empire?"

The fat Ferengi sat back and waited for the Klingon to begin his negotiations. The smell of profit was definitely in the air.

"To Fight Again"
by Lt.(jg) K'arta

After Commander Coe finished informing Captain Price of their situation, K'arta approached the commander to let him know the rest of the team's status.

"Sir, Lieutenant Blair is missing and the medical team at the Caves have taken some heavy casualties. The Rhomboid are still coming." the last sentence was unnecessary. Everyone knew the progress of the Rhomboid invasion.

"It looks like the Dronegar are holding them off for now, Lieutenant. Let's get some rest and prepare for their next rush." Coe instructed.

"Aye, sir." K'arta responded, turning back to the security teams.

After informing the other security officers, she turned to Paran. The Bajoran had been pacing and seemed about to flip his lid.

"Lieutenant,I want you to take 4 hours rest, try and get some sleep, I'll keep watch for the moment. The Rhomboid are being held by the Dronegar for the moment, though I don't know how long that will last." K'arta hoped he would take her advice and get some sleep.

"Sir, I am feeling fine. Sir, I'd like. . ." he trailed off when he saw K'arta's stern face.

"No buts, Lieutenant. You know as well as I that soldiers need to grab sleep whenever possible. Now take this and find a place to bed down." she tossed a bedroll to him.

Surveying the team from the stairs K'arta was pleased to see the majority of them bedding down in nooks and crannies of the Triad. She climbed on up to a turret and wedged herself into a window to keep watch. Munching on an emergency ration, she scanned the fighting below. The Dronegar were fighting well. K'arta heard footsteps behind her and turned slightly to find Jison approaching.

"Lieutenant." he greeted her, nodding.

"Commander. How are your troops?" she responded.

"They are holding on. I am going to join them on the front. I wanted to thank you." he told her.

"No thanks are necessary. I was honored that you asked." even if he was eager and ready to fight, she admired his fighting spirit.

"I only wish we'd met under other circumstances. You are an interesting person and I'd like to have the chance to get to know you." Jison finished and turned to go.

"It is a good day to die." she whispered at his back, some how knowing that he wouldn't come back alive.

"The Battle Rages"
by Lt.(jg) K'arta

K'arta stalked around the interior of the bunker in Triad Hachurui checking on the status of the security teams. Her decision to join the away team now seemed a little foolish. Most of the security department was down on the planet. Commander Sterner had returned to the ship, but she, Lt. Paran and most of the other security officers had volunteered to join the away team. She did feel better being involved in something though, if she'd stayed aboard the Galaxy, she'd probably still be dealing with the petty annoyances that had been driving her nuts for a while. The change would be good for the Klingon woman.

K'arta spotted Troy Blair and recalled their conversation when they'd first arrived on the planet. A small smile played across her face. It had been a long time since she and Ronni had harassed him. The away team consisted of the Galaxy's finest officers. Campbell had seemed a little uneasy about the mission, but K'arta had confidence in the young man.

K'arta could hear explosions and gunfire in the distance. She figured the Rhomboid forces would reach the bunker in the near future. Her combadge chirped.

[They've landed, Lieutenant!] Campbell reported to her.

"Understood, Ensign. Can you tell if they are moving this way?" she asked him.

[I can't say, Lieutenant. There are too many buildings in the way to be sure. It looked like they could have been heading this way.] Campbell told her.

"I understand Ensign." K'arta said, "Keep an eye out for them. Hopefully the Dronegar forces will be able to slow them down."

[There are an awful lot of Rhomboid Lieutenant...] Ensign Campbell continued.

"Just keep watching Ensign. If you see any of the Enemy forces get within a kilometer of this building, get down here on the double. We will probably need you here if that happens." she ordered the young man.

[Aye sir. You can count on me.] he replied, closing the channel.

The Klingon turned to continue her patrol and nearly ran into Jisonshin. The Dronegar military commander's sudden appearance nearly startled her, but she suppressed the surprised look with a scowl.

"You have heard from your officers?" he wanted to know.

"I have." she affirmed gruffly.

"Are the Rhomboid close?" he nearly demanded of the Klingon Starfleet officer.

"They have landed on the planet, yes. We're keeping an eye on their progress. I assure you that you and your forces will be the first to know about their arrival." K'arta dismissed the eager man.

Lieutenant K'arta, if I may talk to you. . ." the reptillian man began.

She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. K'arta found his eagerness to fight was beginning to annoy her. She too itched for a fight, but would wait until it was time.

"I like to think of myself as a student of Klingon tradition, but I've never had a real chance to speak to anyone from Qo'nos. I'd like to hear your experiences as a Klingon in Starfleet." As soon as he finished, K'arta nearly laughed aloud.

The Dronegar man had chosen a rather un-Klingon Klingon to talk to. "Jisonshin, I appreciate your candor and curiousity, but I don't have all the answers you seek."

"How do you mean?" he was rather taken aback.

"I was raised on Earth. I'm only half-Klingon if you hadn't noticed." she gestured to her ridges, smoother than most Klingons'.

"I am sorry, Lieutenant. I did not know." the Dronegar sounded truly sorry for the misunderstanding. He began to turn away, discouraged.

"Jisonshin, I'm sorry to lead you on. I have spent some time on the homeworld and I know many of the legends." K'arta told Jison.

"Call me Jison, if you would. I would like to hear them sometime." he replied.

She nodded silently and realized that she hadn't heard from Ensign Campbell for a while, so she moved away from the Dronegar military commander to contact her team.

"K'arta to Campbell. What's your report? Are the Rhomboids close yet?" K'arta hadn't gotten a report from Campbell lately and the sound of battle was getting louder.

[Huh? Oh!] he responded, sounding distracted. [Sir, I'm . . . The closest Rhomboids are about one kilometer from the triad.]

"Acknowledged, Ensign. We need you down here then." K'arta motioned to some of the other security officers nearby.

[Yes, yes, of course. I'll be right down, Lt.] the com channel closed again and K'arta informed the officers around her. Jison also was listening in on the briefing.

Fighting soon ensued. The Federation officers fought the Rhomboid's laser and chemical weapons with phaser rifles. Parts of the bunker were aflame and some structures behind the bunker were falling due to some grenade-type weapons. Smoke, dust and rubble began to fill the section of the bunker K'arta had stationed herself in. Hacking and coughing, she stumbled away from that brunt of the fighting, dragging several Dronegar soldiers with her.

"Troy!" K'arta called out when she saw Blair crawling into the bunker. "You're hurt.." she stated when she noticed the blood on his shirt. She tried to get a better look at the tactical officer's injuries, but couldn't.

"It's not bad" He replied, downplaying the injury. "How are things going out here?"

"Not too good, the Rhomboid keep getting closer. Luckily our path to the Triad hasn't been cut off yet." the Klingon said.

"Our numbers are small, which means they're probably going to charge us soon. I think we should move over to the Triad as soon as possible." he suggested.

"Agreed Troy, I'll spread the word" K'arta admired Blair's tactical mind. If she'd been the one to make that decision, they'd probably still be fighting it out with the Rhomboid there in the bunker.

K'arta was busy crawling back through the smoke and dust to the other side of the bunker when she heard Troy shout. "Fall back to the Triad NOW!!! Fall back! RUN!!!"

The Klingon screamed the order toward the rest of the team as she scrambled out of the bunker. K'arta glanced over her shoulder toward the Rhomboid attackers. Jison was holding off one of the first Rhomboid soldiers, his spear blocking the Rhomboid's sword. Seeing Jison struggle with the Rhomboid, she doubled back to help him. A well placed phaser blast sent the Rhomboid flying. K'arta caught Jison as he stumbled backwards. She pulled the Dronegar along with her as the security team retreated. They were severely outnumbered by the Rhomboid.

The Klingon shoved Jison ahead of her as she paused to warn the Dronegar defense point of the attacking Rhomboid. As she left, there was a twinge of remorse in leaving those men to die, but her warrior instinct took over. It was a good day to die.

The Federation security officers reached the Triad in the nick of time. K'arta caught her breath as she looked around for the team. Nearly everyone was clustered near her, waiting for new orders. One was missing, Troy Blair. A surge of anger and frustration ripped through the Klingon as she tapped her combadge in a vain attempt to contact him. She caught Paran's movement toward the defense post, but stopped him.

"Don't be a fool Chanor, stay here. You'll be killed out there. Troy can take care of himself. We need everyone here." she hissed, gripping his shoulder.

A look of defiance crossed his face, puncuated by machinegun fire. She too wanted to find her friend, but she knew that the safety of the rest of the team was the most important. It was imperitive that they stick together and protect the ambassador and the peace delegation.

"Watchful"
by Lt.(jg) K'arta

After keeping watch for almost three straight hours without a break, K'arta was beginning to tire. Not much had been happening on the front lines. There were a few large explosions that she watched with some interest, but the excitement died down fairly quickly. She kept watch as several small Dronegar parties brought their wounded to the Triad. Part of her wanted to be involved in all the fighting, but another part felt relieved that she wasn't a part of the war. After a while, she decided to check the wounded. Another insane hope that Troy had been one of the wounded brought back. She also wanted to check for Jison.

Phaser rifle slung over her shoulder, K'arta made her way down the stairs to the first level of the Triad. The first injured Dronegar she came across had been placed in a corner and several medical officers were swarming over him. Another Dronegar roughly shoved her out of the way as a the medic rushed in with additional bandages. As the group parted to let the medic in, K'arta caught a glimpse of the soldier. It was Jison, but he didn't look good. His face was torn and blood was everywhere. K'arta struggled with herself as the Klingon instinct to give a comrade an honorable death rose. Her right hand strayed toward her waist where her dagger was concealed. It would be easy, just rush in, one chance was all she'd get, but that's all she would need. Jison was a good soldier and the Dronegar military commander. He deserved an honorable death. As the anger and hatred for the Rhomboid tried to overwhelm the half-Klingon, a familiar voice broke the spell.

"Troy! You're alive!" she called from Jison's pallet. "What happened?" she asked, moving away from the dying Dronegar.

"I tripped when we were falling back to the Triad, so I took cover in a storm sewer. Then I got lost and had to find my way back." Troy replied as she approached.

"Your side looks better. It's good to have you back. I'd like to talk, but I need to get back to my position." K'arta looked back and waved to her friend as she headed back to the stairs. Soon she would return to the first level and wake Chanor to take over for her.

"Their Lips Move"
by Maxwell Cadere

Cadere was standing next to the bar, the smoke filled room seemed a perfect atmosphere for his rage. Many of the men who were with Kinar, the Klingon who Max had injured earlier in their fight, were now laughing it up with Maxwell. Since the brawl, he’d met 40 people. Five of them, were merchants who dealt with weapons.

Each of these five men, mentioned one name, a fat Ferengi named Eldor.

Max had a few more drinks with his new acquaintances and left to meet with Gordon.

"Hi ‘mate, ‘aving fun?" Gordon said as he greeted Max.

"A bang-up time Mr. Gordon. A nice little slice this place is. I see where they got the name," Max said and laughed.

Clay smiled at Max. "Rune almost shot you!" Clay said.

"Oh really, how do you know? When?" Max asked.

"I stopped him! He was going to shoot you as you were fighting with that Klingon," John said, seriously.

"Thanks then, what’s his problem?" Max asked.

"He thought you were going to kill the Klingon," Clay laughed.

"So, why would he stick up for the Klingon? I’m the one who’s a mate of his, I was the one who was defending myself. That Kinar came at me, started the fight with me. Which by the way Mr. Gordon, was a great way to get people in this bar to open up. If they respect your combat abilities, they can respect the man. A shame Rune doesn’t know that," Max laughed at his own words. "Rune has his ways, I have mine. Everyone knows if you want to rule a territory, you take out the ruler of the territory. So, I injured Kinar. In a couple of days, he’ll be up and around and back in this bar, like nothing happened. And I’ll be long gone by that time," Max smiled again.

Gordon pointed at Rune, Kal’Gor and Gritta across the bar. They were with a fat Ferengi. "That’s our best lead so far, his name is…"

Max cut Gordon off, "By the looks of his obese body and his human females, I’d say that was Eldor. All five people mentioned his name," Max said getting serious as he got down to business.

As all three men glanced at Eldor’s booth, Clay spoke up to Max, "You may be an arrogant SOB, but you can kick some butt. That Klingon had to be at least 300 pounds and you threw him like a rag doll!"

"I keep myself in shape. Besides, he was slow. Quickness and cunning, and a good weapon, will beat brute strength anytime. I just like to use both," Max laughed.

"Well, you can back me up in a fight anytime Maxwell…anytime," Clay spoke the words as a wish, as if he were hoping that if he did get into trouble, Cadere was there to watch his back.

"Don’t worry Clay, if I’m there, watching your back, you’ll be safe and sound."

"I’d say its pretty reliable that this is our man. All of us, except for Kruger, have heard his name when we’ve asked about biological weapons. Let’s hope this works out mates," Gordon said, looking in Clay’s and Cadere’s direction.

"Well, Mr. Gordon I know how to loosen people’s tongues, and make their lips move, if all else fails I’ll beat it out of him. The crite deserves it anyway," Max snarled.

"Ferengi Nights"

Mengar caught Cadere's eye, silently signalling him to follow him. Mengar left ahead of him, unable to help but notice Almieretta Chase's gaze boring right into the centre of his being. He knew this was going to happen. He had hoped to avoid it, but... well, karma was a bitch.

It wasn't finished, that was for sure. The Silver Swan was still missing and only Mengar had an idea of where it was hidden. Fate had brought the two of them together again and this time only one of them would walk away. Mengar honestly didn't know which one it would be. For if karma was a bitch then only God knew what Almieretta Chase was.

He mentally shoved these dark thoughts away into a far corner of his mind. He had other things to concern himself with; the matter of a fat Ferengi for one. Over in the corner Mengar could see Gordon and the others conferring with each other privately. Their backs were turned away from prying eyes and ears. Raph thought it best not to bother them at this stage; obviously they were planning something. Mengar thought it best not to interrupt them and call unnecessary attention.

What appealed to a Ferengi, he mused as he walked over to the ferengi's table, wincing at the fat git's piercing voice screaming for more pleasant music. Obviously the sound of an Yridian water-harp was grating on the sensitive lobes of the merchant.

Pulling his expensively tailored cloak around his shoulders he sauntered over to the table with an arrogant sneer on his face. Eldor was a well-known figure in the shadows of the smuggling world. The RAKTOR was unique in that it was the only Ferengi vessel that could - and would - fight for a valuable cargo. An ex-Consortium Marauder-class vessel, the RAKTOR could match a GALAXY-class starship in equal combat - if it had to. Eldor not only smuggled, he pirated, and pirates were a significant element in Mengar's other identity.

Mengar knew how to deal with pirates and smugglers. As he approached the table of the laughing Ferengi, tall Nausicaan stood up to intercept his approach.

" Human not needed at table unless to take order. " The Nausicaan challenged.

" Tell Eldor the Merchant that Raph Mengar would have... spice dealings with him. " Mengar called, loud enough for the Ferengi to hear. He adopted a nasal inflection and stooped his shoulders in an attempt to reduce his imposing appearance.

The Nausicaan looked back to the Ferengi for his approval. The Ferengi waved his hand, dismissing the intrusive human and returning to the more attractive human males sitting beside him, stroking his lobes. " Not wanted. Get spice elsewhere. " The Nausicaan grunted.

Mengar quickly rummaged through his mind for details of the most infamous stunt the RAKTOR had ever pulled. " Oh? " He called. " I understand... tell your master that I'm interested in the spices from the USS GIDEON. " He shrugged his slumped shoulders in mock detachment. " But if he's not willing to deal... " He started to walk away, pretending to ignore the Ferengi's startled expression.

" Bring the human over here NOW! " The smuggler whispered as loud as he could. The Nausicaan stood out of the way, letting the tall human through. Mengar hid his distaste at the brightly-painted men sitting at the table. The Ferengi shook fee of their indolent fondling, forcing them away from the table. " Sit... and keep your voice down. "

" My thanks for your gracious invitation. " Mengar murmured in a tone that indicated entirely the opposite.

" What do you know about the GIDEON? " The Ferengi demanded.

" You're not exactly known for your hospitality are you? " The sneering Mengar yawned. " You could have offered me something to drink. "

The Ferengi smiled. " I apologize, Mr... ? "

" Mengar... Raph Mengar. I'm in acquisitions. " Mengar solicitously offered his hand.

" Another rum moccacino, then? " Mengar looked astonished. " I may be suspicious and inhospitable but nobody can say I don't know what's going on around me, Mr Mengar. " He waved for a waitress. " But I confess to a degree of alarm in discovering that you are, in some way, familiar with the series of unfortunate events surrounding the USS GIDEON. A Federation long-range scout vessel, I believe? "

" Relax Eldor - I'm not trying to entrap you, nor am I an investigative agent of the Federation. I simply wanted to get your attention. "

" Then you have it, Mr. Mengar, but I'm afraid I must insist on disclosure. " The Ferengi rasped in his grainy voice.

" Let's just say that I'm well-informed... and prepared to do business for some difficult to acquire items. " Mengar replied evasively. " If you like, I can include the answer to that question into the price. "

Eldor stroked his chin thoughtfully. " You seem like an individual I can do business with, Mr. Mengar. Perhaps I can repay my lack of hospitality at a later time? Shall we agree to a meeting in a few hours, on board my ship? "

Mengar smiled. " I would be honoured to see the famous RAKTOR, Eldor. Of course, you will understand if I wish to share this honour with several friends? I can vouch for their characters. "

Eldor was not fooled by Mengar's concern about his friends' behaviour. Only a fool would agree to a visit unprotected. The Ferengi assumed Mengar was referring to his bodyguards.

" Very well, Mr. Mengar. Ina few hours then. " With that the large human excused himself from the table.

Doctor Ens. Endris Gakor, Holodeck 5

Anyone who knew her well would notice Ens. Gakor was unusually tense. She stood with tightly balled fists thrashing a holo generated Nassican, trying in vain to release the tension. The rest of the medical staff had beamed down to Dronegar to deal with sick and injured. The cursed disease refused to reveal its secrets.

It was natural she felt helpless, having survived a similar biogenic attack. Suddenly, Gakor sliced the holo villain with a nasty looking knife. She felt a little better as she demanded the computer to end the program.

Naturally, she wanted to help the wounded on Dronegar. She returned to the ship's bio lab, activating the EMH to watch sickbay while she conducted research to help the away team. She pondered what to do next, studying the notes left by Khatroweena and the other staff had left. Endris was too angry to even participate in the traditional Tellarite Stress Feast. There was just too much misfortune for her taste.

-Later- (Bio Lab)

What was that the Captain told her the other day - "Go ahead and "snout" around for a cure, mate, as long as you don't endanger the ship." She allowed her self a brief smile at the humorous memory. She was going to need help. The notes hinted at Cardassian involvement. "Odo Etas!" she exclaimed. Another unknown sample.

She knew the Galaxy had more computing power than most Star Fleet vessels. Also, the integrated holo emitters would assist her plan.

"Computer, contact Federation civilian record archives on Memory Beta. Extract records on the following persons:

Doctor Mora, Bjorian Scientist. Medical Science Professor Lateria Mak'oi, New Fabrini University at Yonada.

Create holo projected characters based on these profiles at this location."

Ens Gakor was amazed how quickly her former instructor appeared. Although she knew Mora only by reputation, his work on metamorphic life forms would definitely assist with the polygenic properties the sample was displaying.

Soon, both real and fictional entities dug into the research at hand.

"We have to apply at least 6 milivolts to stimulate the sample", said Mora.

"We are do not need to "stimulate" the sample, we are trying to destroy the foreign pathogen in the blood stream", retorted the simulated Mak'oi, with Vulcan coldness.

This was getting nowhere. She was about to order the computer to cancel the program when Mora shifted his gaze to a different slide of the toxin. "The geome in the upper left quadrant bears remarkable semblance to Founder DNA!" he discovered.

"Good.", Gakor thought, progress at last! Mak'oi, getting over her outburst, was next to contribute. Her studies at the University gave her access to papers on many subjects. Interestingly enough, this one was authored by Mora himself.

"Doctor Mora," addressed the other sim, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I recall your paper correctly, young shape shifters do not have access to there polymorphic talents."

"Yes, you are right! But I don't see....", Mora interrupted.

Endris shared the lack of vision until her friend explained. She had read an account of the Enterprise D encountering a phenomena that reduced the age most of the senior staff.

Hope dawned in the Tellarite's eyes as the Immunologist paused to correctly phrase her response.

"Computer, what transporter facilities are currently available?" -Transporter room 3 is now ready for use, the machine responded.

"Computer, engage bio containment shield, level 3, at transporter pad Three. Activate bio filter to remove selected RNA sequences, as outlined in procedure Enterprise-1701-D 502f."

-Unable to comply. Directives require authorization code.

Endris huffed as she ordered, "Overide standard protocols, authorization Gakor, Endris, Ens. Code Oink, Oink, damned spot"

Next, the doctor used the transporter to filter the sample and beam it back insitu. Once the culture reappeared beneath the microscope, Endris and the others examined it. The virus was inactive!!!! This would not cure the patient, but would keep them alive until a better procedure could be devised.

"Computer, save current simulation, file under Gakor Research Associates, 1. Then descent on it like Iago with a pillow."

=Please clarify last portion of request.=

"Terminate the program after you save it," she simplified.

Endris prepared to transmit the data she collected to the Medics on Dronegar. She was pleased with her contribution to the relief effort. Also, since the job in the transporter room was done, she deactivated the containment field.

Distracted by the flourish of act