Savros

Savros stepped down the stone steps into the diminishing light　of the maze of tunnels under the coliseum pausing briefly to turn on his light before continuing onward.　 Behind him, Reed followed quietly, conducting passive scans with her tricorder.　Coming to the bottom of the passage, the Vulcan slowed, shining his light on burnt the remnant of a torch. "Lieutenant, what do you make of this?"　He queried. Reed looked up from her tricorder, eyeing the object curiously. "A burnt torch?" she started.　 "Perhaps we can determine its age?" she said, taking a step closer to the science officer. Savros turned to face Reed, causing her to squint in momentary blindness and bring up a hand to shield her eyes.　 Lowering his flashlight, the Vulcan continued, "I am not certain, but it does tell us something about the circumstances when they left." "Or it might tell us that someone has visited recently," Reed reasoned, still blinking to readjust her vision. "True, but if someone visited recently, why would they use a torch?　 Do a complete scan and we will analyze it later." Nodding, Reed adjusted the settings on her tricorder and began to take focused scans of the torch from up close.　 She examined the torch intently, wondering what type of information they could glean from it. Coming down the steps behind the navigation officer, Ensign Freeman lowered the structural scanner to the ground.　 He was having second thoughts about this mission.　 The Commander had ordered him down to the surface with the instrument, but it now seemed like an excuse to put him on the team.　 Busy work.　 While he appreciated the sentiment, he wished it had not been necessary.　 He was an engineer and preferred assignments that let him use his skills. In turn, each member of the away team moved off the steps and entered the large chamber at that branched off into several separate passages.　 Spanning one wall, between two of the passages was rough stone bench.　 To its right were several rough-hewn curved stones, protruding from the wall and serving as hooks for a crude set of metal shackles.　 Turning on her own light, Reed looked around the room, her attention falling upon the passage next to the bench and shackles. "This is a bit odd," she observed to Savros and Freeman. "This passage doesn't begin in what appears to be a Roman arch, like the others in this room." Her light roams over the narrow opening, which appeared to be more like a crevice that someone had hollowed out of the rock, then the opening to a passage. Swerving around the equipment he had just put down, Freeman looked up to where Reed was directing her light. "No, I hadn't noticed. I'll take your word..." he trailed off, now that he was looking; it seemed different from the others that he'd seen. Moving forward, he limped towards the benches, reaching for and examining the shackles. Not a pretty sight. "I only just got out of sickbay a few hours ago, and I've only had a very cursory briefing...what are we looking for, exactly?" He glanced over his shoulder, towards Savros and Reed as he asked his question. He tugged at the shackle, hoping it was some kind of gruesome decoration, but he doubted it. "Was this a prison at some point? Maybe where they kept the fighters." Leaving the shackles, he examined around his surroundings more closely. His specialty was in computer engineering, so he racked his brains, trying to recall the structural engineering courses he had taken, attempting to remember why one exit would be differently designed from the rest, maybe partial reconstruction? But even then, they would have tried to keep to the style of the original...that was weird, now that he thought about it. Moving closer to the exit in question, he scanned it closely, trying to age the material, wondering if it had been constructed before or after the rest of the building. Suddenly a chirp came from beneath Savros' robe. He pulled out his communicator, "This is Lieutenant Savros. Go ahead."

All this speculation about the Preservers was surprising. It is not as if new information had arrived since Captain Kirk interacted with the Romans? Besides Hodkin's Law of Parallel Planetary Development was the accepted theory of 892-IV. Now perhaps, they would find some new information that would provide evidence for or against either explanation, but first, he had to provide his colleagues with an update on his work. Seated in his office, he dictated to the computer: "Esteemed colleagues, It seems that I have an opportunity to study a foreign culture that is fascinating in origin. I regret that I haven't yet completed the translation you passed to me. I am transmitting my latest work to you for your review and record. I shall return to my work just as soon as I am able. Savros" He sent off the message and pondered momentarily about the events that allowed him to research these ancient texts. Of course, the translation of ancient texts had always been an interest and a challenge for him. He surmised his new wife had been involved in the decision to pass him the first bit of text forwarded by the Vulcan Science Institute. She was the only one who could have known that he might have an aptitude for translating Guardian portals. Although, they had not declared it as such, the translation had yielded enough evidence to support the theory. Reluctantly, the command staff yielded to the Institute's request, and allowed him to step down as Department Chief to do his research. That research could wait now. How often do you have an opportunity study Hodgkin's Law and/or the Preserver theory from up close? If only they could find some evidence… 30 minutes later Savros stepped on the transporter and shimmered. Instantly, he stood at the base of what appeared to be a coliseum. Part way up the steps a long distance away, he saw Ensign Linch in his early 21st century "barbarian" clothing. He was setting up a series of tripods designed to perform a non destructive inspection of the underground. An assigned security person watched him as he worked. Outside the coliseum, Ensign Cardova examined some writing on a stone tablet. The tablet was broke into three pieces and she carefully arranged them. Then, she signaled Savros to come over. He moved to the young ensign and placed his hands under his robes. "Very good work. A good example of non Roman characters." The tricoder buzzed and he put his head under his robe for a second. "It does not appear to be in the library. I shall pass up the scan to the bridge."

Savros stopped dictating to the computer and turned to stare at the considerably smaller pieces of broken metal stacked not so neatly in their case. Those pieces had made his trip bearable. He relished in the fact that there were no other species present to witness his horrific display of emotion. It had taken the complete trip, but he had accomplished his goal. T'Pvell had consented to the joining. The union was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon and none too soon. He suspected his 3-week estimate was optimistic and did not wish to be caught unawares. If he were to survive, the timing must be right. The communication panel chirped. Savros reached forward and pressed the toggle. The face of T'Pvell appeared. "It is good to finally see you. I am pleased you have made it this far." Savros held out his hand in the traditional Vulcan gesture. "As am I to see you." T'Pvell returned the gesture. "Is all in readiness?" "All shall be ready at the prescribed hour," T'Pvell announced. "Though there is an important matter to discuss." "I am certain all will be satisfactory," Savros responded optimistically. "I have already received clearance to land and shall be joining you in about 2 hours." He ended the transmission abruptly feeling the onset of another wave. Three hours later, the Savros was refreshed. His bride's parents made every facility available to him in preparation. He took advantage of their kindness to bath, change clothes and move to a meditation chamber. In this setting, the plak tow seemed distant. In fact, he had not felt the onset of emotion and hoped irrationally that it would not come. Behind him, the room danced momentarily with sunlight. "I do not mean to disturb your mediation", sounded the voice of Se'tok, "but there is a matter of considerable urgency to discuss." Savros smiled. He could not think of anything which would cause him concern. "Is it so important?" Se'tok repositioned himself before Savros and sat down. "There is something we have not explained to you." "I cannot think of anything that would make this day less pleasant. Tell me, father of my betrothed, what news do you bring?" "I am glad that the rut-tak-ku root has calmed your mind, but I have not been entirely forthcoming with you." Savros straightened up and shook his head. Drugged, he realized, they felt it necessary to drug me. He wondered if he had already entered the plak tow. "That's better. The light of understanding returns. Remember when I told you that T'Pvell's bonding had been broken with the fatal disease of her betrothed." Savros nodded, wondering where this was going. "That was only partially true." This was an unexpected turn, thought Savros. Vulcans do not lie easily. "Savil is not dead. He has aligned himself with a dangerous faction of revolutionaries who deny the teachings of Surak. They were exiled a year ago. Since this no Vulcan male has approached my daughter believing that she may have somehow been influenced by him." Savros put his hands together to calm himself. While he knew Se'tok's actions were logical, he despised the position he found himself in. Se'tok knew his plight. He also knew his avowed pacifism. Had he not been clear that he could not, under any circumstance take a life. Se'tok paused to let his son-to-be digest the information and continued. "I am certain you see the logic in my actions, but I also see the anger in your eyes. There's more…" He breathed a purging breath. "Savil has declared that anyone attempting to bond to T'Pvell will die. To this end, he has studied the Kal-if-fee for several years." Continuing with his hands tightly together, Savros whispered "I will not kill. Therefore, you have condemned me to death." "For my daughter's sake, I hope you change your mind. You, Savros, are a Star Fleet officer. Your ship has been responsible for taking lives. Therefore, you are complicit." Savros lunged forward and grabbed his accuser by the throat, but Se'tok did not defend himself. Instead he let down the walls in his mind to reveal his thoughts. An instant later, Savros loosed his grip and began the mind meld. If I do not this evil, a greater evil will be done. Yes, my son. This will seal you to our daughter and we shall be grateful to you. Even if it were possible for me to take a life, how will I defeat Savil, one who has studied the Kal-if-fee for so long? I will die in combat. A fitting end to a pacifist? Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts. In life or death, you will be a hero to my daughter. Should you live, she will be forever in your debt as will our whole family. If, however, you should die, the authorities shall incarcerate Savil. Your death will serve a great purpose and you shall be remembered for your sacrifice. With that the meld ended. At least there would be a purpose in death.

Savros sat browsing through the profiles that had been forwarded to him. What could be said about the problems of arranged marriages seemed to pale in comparison to last minute shopping. Vulcan males simply could not be trusted to make a decision in a reasonable amount of time. And time was in short supply… A sudden surge of rage filled him. His eyes seethed. Had he not been on board a shuttle for Vulcan, he would have had an overwhelming concern to break something…but he was prepared. He grabbed a previously replicated pry bar and bend it. Although he did not have the strength to break it outright, he maliciously moved it back and forth like a paper clip till it snapped in two. His usual temperament returned a moment later. He considered the decisions that brought him here. The guardian portal he had studied as a Starfleet officer. The unfortunate death of his parents while studying the crystalline entity. The false onset of Pon Farr. The precipitous flight and subsequent return. The illogic of it all was disconcerting. Then he remembered the moment he chose to leave. He stared into the Guardian portal and pondered his options. With no living family and few close friends, he had no close ties to remain here. The prospect of seeing history unfold excited him. This thought he focused on, allowed it to fester and grow, till finally illogic became logic. In this state of internal struggle, he did the human thing; he closed his eyes and stepped through. Savros did not know the lengths others went to avoid reaching sexual maturity, but he knew that the Vulcan government avoided a discussion of such statistics. For him it had been an after thought. The effect of such portal journeys cannot be predicted, he remembered his thoughts prior to entering the portal. It might cause disorientation, affect cognitive skills, and might remove the effect of the Pon Farr. No one would have predicted that it would come, not in the usual building, but in waves. He could be in complete control one minute and feel a wave of disorientation the next. The disorientation waves could cause him unconsciousness, surges of desire, aggressiveness, etc. Although he could not yet predict the outcome, he had formulated a theory of the time between waves. It was an exponentially decreasing time function. If his calculations were correct, he had about 3 weeks left to live. If you subtract a week for travel to Vulcan, there would be 2 weeks remaining. That left no time for extensive thought. He had to be decisive. He returned the pieces of the broken pry bar into the storage container and noticed there were no other fresh pieces. Each of the 10 bars had been bent, twisted or otherwise distorted. To borrow a human expression, the last two days of his trip would indeed be long.

Arcane numbers and forbidden units of measurement bubbled and boiled on the console before Anastasia as the computer ran its pattern-matching analysis. It was child's play, really: index the sensor readings from both the Columbia and the Cepheus, strip out the noise, and look for matching warp trails or energy signatures. But that's all the computer was, really: an EPS-powered child with a massive library database. And it loved playing "Which of these warp signatures is like the others?" "I hate it," said Anastasia, swivelling her chair around to face her colleagues. "I hate it all. The intrigue, the manipulation--using entire civilizations in some interstellar long game." She paused, surprised by the vehemence in her voice, and looked around to see if anyone else on the bridge had heard her little rant. After a moment, she continued, "First the Klingons use the Elasians to get to the Federation, and now there are Romulans involved?" Verging now on exasperation, Anastasia sighed and changed the subject. "Nitara, how are those sensor modifications coming along?" Nitara responded to Anastasia's question without looking up the screen. "The sensors are about ready to be calibrated to the energy readings, but I'll need your data first, you know." There was a moment of silence while she tapped away at the buttons. The energy readings were fluctuating too far up, then seconds later dropped to almost insensitivity. Nitara dealt with these problems almost mechanically. No use getting frustrated with a machine. If the sensors ignored anything it was the passionate emotions of a ticked off scientist. The console behind her beeped. Anastasia surveyed the results. "Here we go. The Cepheus and the Columbia detected three common warp signatures. Two were Federation, and the other one is--ah-hah! The computer's stumped. Sending it to your station now." Nitara studied the data readouts. "Yeah... this is our man..." She flipped up a new screen. "We've done it. The sensors now detect a warp trail exiting the system." She spun around towards Poldara, almost bouncing with elation at the new find. "The computer has been updated and has tracked their course out. Sending you the results." "As soon as this crisis is over," Commander Ba'alyo spoke as he walked down the ramp from the conference room into the bridge, " I'm certain we'll be able to honor your leave request." Lieutenant Savros followed down the ramp and nodded in agreement. He had said what he could without delving too much into personal matters. With as much as he knew about other cultures, he was certain there would be a way to present the matter that would not deny tradition. He just couldn't focus enough to draw it from his memory. Ba'alyo took his ususal seat to the left of the CO and swiveled to face the Vulcan now stepping between them. For a moment it looked as if Savros were to speak, but he continued towards the steps leading to the science stations. Lieutenant Poldara seemed excited. It was the sort of excited the Vulcan had not seen in her while she was the Department chief. Whatever she had done during her leave, it did the trick. She was a new person. He wondered for a moment if her improved demeanor had anything to do with her mate being assigned to the station. This caused him to reflect on his recent dinner with the Vulcan ambassador. He had explained that his parents were research scientists that had died in an accident. Years later, his arranged marriage had ended when his betrothed contracted a rare disease that affected her ability to conceive. Her parents concluded that the family line of their cherished friends should not pass away so easily. Thus, Savros was left without a future mate. "You were successful?" the Vulcan stated to Lieutenant Poldara. Anastasia turned to Savros, her face flushed with success. She had begun her week finding subspace mines and was finishing it finding a hidden Romulan ships. At the end of this, Challenger's science department would be experts in cloaking technology. "We've got a fix on their last heading...."

To: Grima Center CC: Alexi Juno, Zen Ba'alyo, Hans Seiben Subject: Disturbing insights into a Space Virus Encryption: Restricted access, Secret Clearance Grima Center, I am not an expert in microbiology or even a medical doctor. However, my recollections of the events at the Obi VI colony cause me great concern and I have decided to pass on my insights in this memorandum. I have restricted the access to Secret Clearance and encrypted this file accordingly. I trust that you can modify the clearance requirements as you deem appropriate. It was determined through investigation that the Obi VI virus originated from space. The Challenger's sensor logs show the pathogen was detected on a comet, some debris of which was in orbit around the planet at the time of our response to the disease outbreak. The confirmed presence of a pathogen that can travel through space without the aide of a starship is disturbing. Most humanoid species are quite frail. They require a narrow range of temperatures, atmospheric gases and are easily damaged by any number of things not the least of which is the vacuum of space. If we were to consider the possibility of prolonged survival in space without a suit, a humanoid would have to put its body into a dormant state. The pores of its skin would need to close with the strength to prevent the body from losing any number of fluids and gases such as: blood, tears, sweat, oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, etc. The body would likewise need to suppress a number of regulatory processes such as: digestion, follicle growth, cell reproduction (blood, skin, and organ), etc. As it travelled through space, it would be subject to extremes of temperature and radiation at levels that would destroy cell and tissue both exterior and interior to the body. In order to survive, the body would have to become a sort of capsule, providing only the minimal amounts of these functions necessary to sustain life. Certain microorganisms are known to go into a dormant state. Bacterial spores on earth, for example, have been reanimated from the digestive tracks of amberized bees thought to be some 25 to 40 million years old. Some scientists in the 20th Century claimed that they have found spores that survived temperatures ranging from -269 to 3000oC. They propagated the theory that single cell organisms traveled through the stars over millions of years to begin life of new worlds. This theory has not received acceptance by the Vulcan Science Academy, which questions the validity of the research. The current condition on Obi VI may be the first real evidence of panspermia, the theory that life originated from microorganisms drifting in space. Although bacterial or fungal spores are more likely, it is theoretically possible for other agents (like viruses) to be carried in such seeds. Whether the virus travelled in a spore of its own making, in a host, or by some other means is not known. It arrived and is capable of mass destruction. I see two possible outcomes of attempting to kill such space travelers. One, we will kill it through conventional means. Two, we discover that this pathogen is highly evolved and is difficult to destroy. If the latter, a glancing blow from a phaser may not destroy it. Thus, we may see it again.

Feeling some concern, Doug had trailed behind Dr. Susan Nuress and let her get ahead of him. She entered the doors of a school gymnasium. In spite of Savros' suggestion that working might keep his mind off his situation, he found it nearly impossible to focus. He kept thinking of how the doctor had scanned him and said simply "Damn". That was one word you didn't want to hear from your doctor. In spite of his inquiry, she had not explained her choice of words. He was going to die and he knew it. It was a sober moment for Lieutenant (j.g.) Doug T. In his hurry to get on the shuttle, he had not been as thorough as he should have been and this may have cost him his life. There was a reason he had always been so vigilant at Tactical. Tactical was something he enjoyed and was good at. He had never been known for his field experience so as soon as the position at tactical had come open, he applied for it. It was a prestigious position at that. Although Starfleet boasted allowing junior officers to serve as replacements for senior positions, few had earned the right to be called the tactical officer. It was a testament to his dedication and hard work. Still… Despite the number of benefits the tactical position offered, it was often boring. Few races were stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with an Excelsior class ship like Challenger. Theodore Roosevelt had once said "Speak softly and carry a big stick, and you will go far." If Captain Seiben spoke softly, then Challenger and her crew was the big stick. Who could argue with that kind of diplomacy? Doug entered the gymnasium doors and saw Dr. Nuress kneeling in front of a dead body of a patient that had not yet been removed. There were hundreds of others in here. For a moment, he relaxed and took his mind off his trouble. The kneeling doctor looked over at the Starfleet officer and pressed a button on her environmental suit. It looked like she'd toggled the transmission frequency so she could speak to him. "If I had to guess, this one died after most of the others." She reached out with her encapsulated hand and repositioned the head. "Notice the flushness of the skin on the face and the distorted position of the body. This person probably died of asphyxia." "Asphyxia?" "Lack of oxygen," she explained. "Probably drowned in his own fluids." Doug gulped inwardly as he thought of the horror of choking to death on his own vomit. Noticing his reaction, Doctor Nuress got to her feet and grabbed him by the shoulder. "That's not going to happen to you. We are going to watch over you. You aren't going to be alone like this." She changed her tone. "We can still find a cure." But she didn't sound convinced. Doug didn't know whether to feel comforted or panicky. At least if he was going to die it would be in comfort. * * * * * Back at the environmental lab, Lieutenant Savros processing more samples in an effort to learn more about the virus. So far the computer had scanned through thousands of known viral strains and some theoretical ones. There was nothing new to report. He re-read the procedure as a double check. He appeared to be doing everything correctly. His quality control samples had checked out. No, if the computer was not reading anything it must not be there. Beyond the synthetic enclosure of the erected lab, Savros knew that Doug and the newly arrived doctors were fanning out, looking for clues to this mystery. With so few of them, there hadn't been time to move the dead, but they were making progress. Only time would tell whether they would find a cure.

Crewman Robert Mathios stood with his Mark II Phaser in hand. He thought it a curious thing to see the Vulcan Science officer running to reach the ground car. No doubt he had some logical reason, but the level of importance he placed on the urgency of the matter was overshadowed by the humor of seeing the arms of the overly large suit flapping freely as he ran. If he didn't know better, he'd think the Vulcan was pretending to be a court jester. Suddenly Robert imagined Savros in a medieval jester costume, juggling. A smile came to him as he received the signal to lower his weapon. "Are any of you sick or injured?" inquired Savros, having stowed his tricorder in his left arm flap. The passengers shook their heads no. Seconds later a chirp sounded and Savros opened his communicator in his right hand and adjusted it to the oncoming signal. "This is Lieutenant Savros, do you read?" From inside his protective suit, Savros noticed the driver pressing a button, "This is Marcos Palmenti. You are Starfleet, yes?" "Yes, Marcos," he paused looking at their reactions. "Can you tell me why you were attempting to leave?" At this the driver espoused his displeasure with a number of hand gestures. He was clearly upset, "Leave? Fronda and I are trying to find out what happened. No one is answering." "Yes, I understand. The area is being quarantined. Is your groundcar positive pressure?" The human female next to Marcos spoke, "Quarantined! But Yolanda and Mirando! Our friends are in there!" As she spoke, her hands showed a feeling of desperation that gave the Vulcan the impression that they needed more information before they would be able to feel safe. "Listen to me carefully. I will provide you with as much information as I know, but you must stay in your groundcar and keep calm." The three travelers nodded their heads as Savros continued, "We are investigating a disease outbreak in the area that is highly infectious and potentially fatal." At this, Fronda burst into tears and sobbed into her husband's arms. "By coming here, you may have put your lives at risk, so it is imperative that you remain in the vehicle and explain where you have been so that we can determine your level of risk and take appropriate action." The travelers began to relate their tale. Marcos and Fronda owned a store in north western settlement. They had business dealings with Yolanda and Mirando, and had developed a friendship over the past several years. The Efrosian female was a priestess who came to pray with members of her faith who were suffering from an illness. She convinced the couple to take her on the 6-hour journey to Giiwyen. When they arrived no one responded and they wondered if their subspace transponder was working. Marcos tinkered with it while Fronda piloted the vehicle in a circular pattern to see where everyone had gone. A half an hour later, a phaser came from the sky and they landed the vehicle. They have been waiting to see if anyone would come. Savros listened to the story and decided they would normally be considered low risk, but realized that they were still dealing with an unknown agent and that caution was advised. "Thank you for explaining. If you are certain that none of you left the vehicle, then you may not have been infected. Of course, you will have to be quarantined till the doctor clears you." Fronda sat back in her chair and used a handkerchief to remove the tears from her eyes. Marcos flipped the toggle switch to give them a moment of privacy, and a few moments later he spoke, "We understand. Can you provide us with food and shelter?" "I shall make the arrangements."

Lieutenant Savros stood at Science Station 1 manning the scanners. He had recently assigned Ensign Tarris to the landing party. A short time later, a ground car was spotted trying to leave the containment area. While Challenger had halted their advance, the situation would no doubt worsen in time. This disease was likely the cause for the destruction of a town of more than 3500 humanoids, not including many members of the nearby animal population. It was obviously very adaptive and highly fatal. From what little he knew about disease causing organisms, he deduced it was extremely rare for a pathogen to cross humanoid and animal barriers AND cause death on such a wide scale. It was almost too pathogenic to believe. Doctor Juno's assessment theorized it as a hemorrhagic fever virus. Certainly, a physician was far more qualified to make this assessment, but would not a toxin be more likely? Toxins are non selective, but usually the strong are more apt to survive. Although this pathogen may be non selective in its rate of infection, it also appeared to be non selective in its mortality. Certainly, this had the potential of creating wide spread panic among the colonists. The potency, if it was a virus, certainly left the possibility of an engineered organism. Although biologic war had been outlawed in the Federation, there were still some species who would consider it an option. Absently, the Vulcan straightened his collar and moved to the adjacent science station. There he keyed in the database search "epidemic virus". The station suddenly came alive with the soft sound of computation. "Working," came the synthetic voice of the computer terminal. "Detailed information is contained on 4354 known infectious viruses associated with epidemics." Savros' ears twitched in interest. Out of hundreds of thousands of possible viruses, only some 4300 were known to be involved in epidemics. There were likely many thousands of possible viruses yet to be discovered. "Computer, narrow search to highly fatal viruses." "Working. There are 67 viruses with known fatalities in excess of 50%." Savros pressed a few buttons and began scrolling through the list. This was at least a starting point. He pressed a button to access the information on the first virus, Anchilles Fever. The monitor filled with information on the disease which the Vulcan quickly digested. At the bottom of the screen, it indicated another 493 pages of information available. "Computer," he began again. "Using previous results, narrow the list to viruses with the known ability to cross humanoid and animal species." Again the computer churned out a response, "Working… there are 8 cases of known highly fatal epidemic viruses known to cross humanoid and animal species." Savros looked at the newly reconstructed list: Efrosian Encephalitis Feline Protein Complex Human Immunodeficiency Virus Hutzel Hemorrhagic Fever Legato Plague Risan Smallpox Spanish Flu Ulcaric virus The doctor would know if any of this information was helpful. There might also be additional information on engineered viruses that was not included in Challenger's databanks. For that, the request for information from Cold Station 12 or even the Grima Center would be needed. Savros looked up from the terminal and noticed Commander Ba'alyo standing up. He had a look of concern and an urgency in his voice, "Savros, how many people are near the beam-down point in the capital?" The Vulcan moved to Science station 1 and adjusted the sensor scope. "Several hundred," he announced dryly. He looked up, his voice slowing. "It would seem they are arriving at some kind of public gathering." "Lessard, get the transporter room," ordered the executive officer.

Savros sat at the computer terminal in his room. On the screen he read a message from T'Kye. The news was unpleasant, but not unexpected. No Vulcan female was willing to take the risk of agreeing to an arranged marriage at this point in their lives. She had warned him of this possible outcome, but informed him of the process that was to be followed in these special circumstances. "Tradition must be respected," he read out loud from her letter. Most Vulcan marriages were arranged while the participants were very young. Although Vulcans did not have a caste system, they did have a complex set of traditions regarding marriage. These included considerations of social standing, family allegiances and wealth. Love was also a consideration, but the Vulcan telepathic bond usually assured that love followed each relationship. In those rare circumstances where love never developed, a disciplined mind assured the relationship was respected. Savros theorized that love naturally followed such a bonding. The only reason it might not follow happened when one had bonded prematurely or had otherwise given oneself to another prior to bonding. Would this be the case with him? Savros closed his eyes and took a few cleansing breaths. There was no reason to make the matter urgent yet. It could wait. Besides, he did not want to let it know that his first day as acting Chief science officer was clouded with personal matters. The circumstances of Lieutenant Poldara's departure might be troubling. He knew her to be a competent officer with a passion for science. Still, her mind never seemed to be comfortable with the position of department head. In most cases, she deferred decisions and deflected efforts to get her to take a more active role. Savros had confronted her following their last meeting and found her apathetic. She did not mind letting him be the voice of the department, but, just as tradition is followed in marriage, he insisted on strict adherence to the chain of command. It was uncomfortable for him to not receive direction from his chief. Unfortunately, at the moment when he spoke up, she made the decision to leave. Was his new position somehow tainted? Of course not, but he would not be surprised if someone made the accusation. Besides, Poldara was only taking a leave of absence. It wasn't as if she were stepping down. He reached to his right and grabbed the teacup that had been cooling on the table. He had observed that tea drinking was a habit of many a Star Fleet officer, including Captain Saylek. He pressed it to his lips and sipped. Although the liquid was nearly flavorless, he noticed that the aroma was pleasant. A welcome change to root beer, he thought, and the smell of regurgitated beef. He sipped again and turned his thoughts to Oby VI. He mentally reviewed what he knew about the situation. One, the symptoms were consistent with a hemorrhagic fever. According to the computer, this likely meant the infected experienced a fever with some unusual bleeding due to a defect in the coagulation process. Two, the doctor believed they this was likely caused by a virus. Three, virus or no, there did not appear to be any specific pattern to the infected as it attacked young, old, strong, weak, Human, Efrosian and every other race fairly equally in the Northern Continent. Four, so far the disease was 50% fatal. He took a larger sip of his tea and pressed a button near the monitor. So far, the Grima Center and Cold Station 12 had not responded to the request to access their databases of infectious diseases. By his estimation, the Grima Center would receive the message first and would likely respond in the next hour. Cold Station 12, on the other hand, was significantly farther away and might not respond till tomorrow. He hoped that once they saw his request, they might take an interest and send some to aide in the investigation. Just as John Snow had been draw to discover how cholera was spreading in London, he was certain someone would feel compelled to assist here as well. Savros reached and turned off the monitor, grabbed his teacup and stood. He had just remembered that he was supposed to inspect the biocontainment areas of the lab Lt Kas constructed. Besides, everything else was a waiting game.

Location: Oby VI Class M (Nitrogen-Oxygen atmosphere) Surface Ocean/Sea: 62% Mountains/Hills: 7% Grasslands/Plains: 3% Forest/Jungle: 12% Tundra/Desert: 13% Inland water bodies: 2% Colonization date: July 17, 2254 Population: 49,834 (as of 2292) Human: 28% Efrosian: 18% Caitian: 12% Aaamazzarite (insect like habits): 10% Grazerite: 7% Deltan: 7% Kasheeta (reptilian): 4% Bzzit Khaht (reptilian): 3% Arcadian: 3% K'normian: 1% Arcturian (clones): 1% Megarite (water breather): 1% Other: 5% Population distribution The population is spread over 8 major centers in two continents. The population centers are mostly diverse with the exception of the Aaamazzarites whose insect-like habits make many other humanoid species uncomfortable.

** On the bridge of the K't'inga Class Battle Cruiser, IKS D'akturak <Ice Man> Captain Koloth sat at the command chair and looked at the report from the engineer manning the sensors. The Federation starship was headed to the Vodrey Nebula. He smiled broadly. Normally it would not amuse him to have a Federation ship travel through Klingon space so brashly at high warp, but this Columbia was moving into a trap, and he knew how to use this to his advantage. For years, Koloth had advocated Vodrey as a staging area for war with the Federation. Located near Maranga IV, an outpost of strategic importance, it would be – would have been the site of great victories against the Federation. Afterall, he had suggested the placement of a series of navigational buoys that only responded when hailed under specific frequencies. Vodey's cloud was big enough to hide an armada. "Maintain the cloak," he ordered, "and follow that Federation ship. He knows something. I am sure of it." "Qapla'," responded the helmsman and tactical officers. Outside, the ship faded into the starry background, then the stars blurred as the ship entered warp. Shortly after the ship was brought up to speed, "Dor-sho-gha! <cursing>" stated the chief engineer directly to the helmsman. "Why have you exceeded the capacity of the engines and not informed me?" The helmsman looked uncertainly at her Captain and pressed the communication button. "Perhaps you should take your complaint to the Captain. We have been ordered to pursue a Federation vessel. It is their speed we match." Koloth ignored the complaint. The crew knew better than to challenge him openly and he seemed to recall some recent information about this ship. He swiveled in his chair to face the tactical officer, "Was there a report concerning the Columbia and the K'Shil?" The tactical officer turned to look Koloth in the eyes, "the K'Shil?" He paused, tapping his console to pull up the reports. "Yes, HoD. Here it is." He pressed a button to bring it up. "Captain Stovas was ordered to shadow the Columbia while she searched for the missing Federation ships. Somehow, Columbia was able to penetrate through the cloak and fired a warning shot. According to intelligence, the K'Shil was likely boarded by the rebel commander Rok'Tun, who used a torpedo to confuse Columbia's sensors and make his escape." "Yes, I remember now. All ships were warned of the possibility that this Captain Saylek was able to penetrate the cloak." Koloth considered the possibilities. If he informed the Federation Captain of his presence, would he be willing to head into the trap so openly? Not likely. But if the Columbia could penetrate the cloak, they might assume that he was part of the trap and open fire. It could cause confusion that might cost the battle. As much as he loathed the Federation, he had to concede to his better judgment. "Open a channel to the Columbia narrow beam. Do not let our communication stray from target," he instructed the communications officer.

Kimiko stirred in her sleep and pulled the covers tightly over her. Something was different. She opened her eyes slowly and noticed the amber glow of a small fire. Where was she? She shook off the sleep, sat up to take in her surroundings. The ceiling was smooth waves of earth with the occasional stalactite, some of which were dripping water. She was in a cave. Her mind conjured up imagines of a Neanderthal hitting her on the head and dragging her into his lair. She smiled knowing that she was more than a match for most men twice her size. Any Cave Man was in for a surprise. She felt a little cold and pulled the covers close to warm and noticed they had the appearance of fur. Feeling the inside of the covering, she recognized the feel of a Star Fleet blanket. Clearly this was only skin deep. She felt the fur, this time she noticed the imagine of fur flickered as she rubbed it. It was some sort of an elaborate holographic projection. The glow of the firelight filled the cave (room) and she heard singing further in the cave. "...What fun it is to sail and sing a slaying song tonight." If she wasn't mistaken, it was Commander Gage. "Oh...Hack and slash, hack and slash, laughing all the way. What fun it is..." The song stopped abruptly. "It appears my guest is awake." Kimiko lay back in bed, uncomfortably covering herself. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else. "Good morning, Captain." Jaden spoke as he stepped into the flickering firelight. Kimiko noticed that a large man, probably 2.5 meters (>8 feet) tall and 140 kilograms (>300 pounds), standing just beyond Jaden. A Cave Man? Jaden noticed her discomfort and walked over to and reached his hand into the fire, where he seemed to be adjusting something. A moment later, the cave was gone. They were back in his room with dim lighting. Kimiko sat up and looked at Gage. He was a tall, blond, muscular man with a small scar on his forehead. "You really know how to show a girl a good time. What was all that?" Jaden smiled, "I hope you don't mind. We talked about the thrill of the hunt in my home," he spoke openly as he walked towards his closet. "I thought you might like seeing it." "You hunt in caves?" Kimiko said sarcastically. "No. It just seemed like a better place to wake up than in a forest," he looked at her wondering if she did not like the surprise. "Ideally, we hunt then look for a good cave to sleep in. In most cases, we sleep under the stars." He paused and began dressing. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I have to be on duty in a half hour and wanted you to see this before you had to go." "Well, thank you. It was certainly a pleasant dream. Your homeland must be gorgeous! But, what was that thing hiding in the darkness? And, was that a version of Jingle Bells you were singing with it?" "Oh that. That was my father. We used to like singing that song together." "Your father?" Kimiko's pupils dilated in disbelieve. "Your related to a Cave Man?" Jaden let out a burst of laughter. "I suppose from your perspective, he does look rather strange. I think I should explain." He took a deep breath, put on his uniform and continued, "He's my father as I remember him. I was a little boy when he died and I like to think of him as the large man I knew then. I suppose if I had an accurate holograph of him, he might be a few inches taller than me. I programmed him to look that way, but I'm afraid, I don't quite have the hang of it yet." He leaned over and picked up a circular orb from off the ground and tossed it to Kimiko. "Maybe your engineers can do something with it. It took mine weeks to make it this far." Kimiko caught the orb and turned it around. It was a polished jet black color with a small circular indentation. "You press the button on top and it will open up for programming," spoke Jaden. "Try it. There should be a memory card slot that you can use for storing programs." She touched the indentation and the orb folded out revealing some interface cables and a memory card in a slot. "I bet Abe will have a field day with this," she spoke with a smile. "It'll probably be worth a few kegs of root beer that I can use for barter when we return home. Or maybe even a private jacuzzi..." Jaden hurried to finish dressing. "Do with it as you like. They are all the rage on Risa." He fastened his boots and moved over to her. "I hope you enjoyed your visit." Kimiko wrapped her arms around him and stared into his blue eyes before giving him one last kiss. "You know I did."

** As you recall General Lorgh stood in front of the communication console in formal warrior attire. What he did at this moment would define who he was for the near future. If he could gain the attention of his people, they would understand the cause for which he struggled. They would take up arms and return the government to the old ways. This was the only way for a Klingon to live! He reached over and pushed a button on the console. A light indicating he was transmitting and he began to speak. "My fellow Klingons, this past year has seen a considerable change in Klingon history. The Chancellor has taken it upon herself to assume that we need peace with the Federation to fix our problems. The truth is we need none of their help. A few loyal Klingons have surrounded the High Council building and demanded their surrender. The Chancellor has refused. Although I don't condone their actions, I understand their vision. The vision of…" He continued to speak, apparently not knowing that his communication had been cut off. "…an Empire that stretches across the known galaxy, where the name KLINGON is revered, respected and feared! This is the legacy of the people of Qo'noS! We will conquer or die!" The screen changed suddenly from transmission to receiving. "I regret that the traitorous actions of General Lorgh have been recalled," interrupted Captain Kor, "I am now in command of his communication array. I call upon loyal Klingons everywhere to rally to my side! We must throw off the rebels and retake our homeworld." The transmission ended and Lorgh gripped tightly the sides of the console. In one motion, he thrust is ridged forehead into the monitor, cracking it. The pang served to focus him. With blood flowing slowly down his head, he thought. This his final opportunity had failed tragically. While some believed in the old ways, others were no doubt waiting for the outcome. Counting on loyalist supporters like Kor was supposed to be a given! Why were his supporters not able to reach them? What would it take for him to side with the Chancellor? He picked up a nearby cloth and wiped the blood off his neck and face. The empire was now lost to the hands of cowards and reformists who clearly had no idea of the damage they were about to inflict. He could blame Kor, but where Kor was Kang and Koloth were sure to close behind. There was nothing in their past rhetoric that would suggest this action. They hated the Federation and were emphatically loyal to the Empire. Why then would they take this action? Curzon! it came to him. There was no other explanation. That damned Federation Ambassador had worked his way into the lives of the trio. He slowly deposited the blood soaked cloth on the wash basin. Curzon had put his reputation on the line to locate the Albino raider. Kang, Kor and Koloth had used his information to defeat the raiding ships and find out their master, the Alibo. For a moment, Lorgh hoped the Albino was still around. Feeding him information had made them both rich. For months, the trio was out maneuvered at every turn. It was almost too bad that he was in hiding. If any of the quartet learned that he knew where the Albino's location, they would likely seek his blood. ** The recent past, on Rok'Tun's Bird of Prey "The computer confirms that you fired the torpedo that would have destroyed the High Council!" Rok'Tun looked down at the warrior before him. "Who gave the order?" The navigator lifted his chin in defiance. "I acted alone." One of the warriors holding the mutinous navigator struck him. "Do you expect that I will let you die an honorable death?" Rok'Tun demanded. "I am Rok'Tun of the House of Ja'rod! Lie to me again and I will throw you out into space!" "The manner of my death matters not." "The computer says you received a signal from the surface! I know it was General Lorgh who sent it, but what I do not know is why you responded! How many more spies does the General have on my ship!" The warriors holding the navigator looked at each other briefly and back at the Captain. It was a good question. General Lorgh's influence mirrored that of Tal Shiar. Who knows how many others he had and how many ships would be sabotaged? ** Departure It was time to leave. Lieutenant Strag, newly appointed aide to General Lorgh, was coordinating the effort to evacuate. His counterpart, Lieutenant Bral continued to coordinate with the rebel factions. They would have to regroup in the Vodrey Nebula where there were supplies prepared to equip them. Kor's message had ignited a maelstrom. Klingons who were not part of the Warrior caste were rising up in large numbers and flocking to Kor. The Lieutenant's suspected there was not enough equipment to supply them all, else they would have attacked and destroyed them. Lorgh completed all, but one of his communications. Rok'Tun had left the system quickly and gone to cloak thirty minutes later. His communications did not seem to find their target. He had to wonder what the newly appointed Captain of the House of Ja'rod would do. Outside the city limits, the three Klingon warriors loaded onto the Bird of Prey. The preparations had been completed, at least as much as time allowed. Word had come that Kang now commanded the fleet of ships over the Qo'noS system and was seeking to destroy all rebel ships. Curzon Dax had also arrived. The ship carrying him was older but still formidable. Between Kang's Fleet, the Federation Fleet and any number of hidden rebel ships, the system was getting crowded. Any more and cloaked ships would be running into each other. General Lorgh sat back in the command chair and ordered the ship to lift off the surface. Shortly after take-off, the ship cloaked. Here was the tricky part. Would it be better to run near the Federation ship Challenger which orbited the planet, or to bypass it by exiting through the opposite side? Duj HvoqtaH, he thought. <<Always trust your instincts.>> "Take us out through the far side of the planet. We do not want to be detected." The small 12 man craft piloted through the upper atmosphere and entered the debris field. Suddenly an explosion rocked the ship. "qaStaH nuq jay!" gasped Lieutenant Bral. <<What the ___ is happening!>> The helmsman looked up from his station. "The debris field is mined?" he asked incredulously. Lieutenant Strag chimed in, "we are losing the cloak!" How could I be so stupid? Lorgh asked himself mentally. Kang must have planted charges on the debris field. Any ship cloaking ship would be detected leaving the planet and proximity mines could be activated based on projected path. Very clever, but not clever enough. He walked to a console and pressed a sequence of buttons. As the little starship decloaked, Kang ordered three ships to pursue and capture. They began firing immediately, but none of their shots hit. Lorgh's backup plan had worked. The message he sent scrambled their targeting systems. It would be hours before they would be operational again. In the meantime, it would be pure luck for them to hit. All he had to do now was rendez-vous with the fleet. Lorgh retook his seat. "Take us to warp," he commanded, "and get that damned cloak functional!" Twenty minutes later, the pursuing ships had lost their target.

Savros sat at the Science station 2. He was troubled. Ever since this coup started he began experiencing doubts. Could he somehow apply the Prime Directive in this matter? He pulled a toggle switch, pressed a button and looked into the scanners. The sensors showed no significant change in the inversion layer. Of course there wouldn't be any. They hadn't had time to address the problem. All the time Abe and he had spent trying to determine the nature of the inversion layer would now be pushed aside for more urgent matters. Did the Klingons deserve to live? He surprised himself for considering the question. Of the races he had known or studied, the warrior tendency always seemed to fade away in favor of better manners. How had the Klingons survived for so long? In fact, they had only survived based on the the work of other races. They stole technological advances and forged weapons from the worlds they conquered. He looked around the Bridge. Lessard was busy scanning channels for more transmissions to or from the planet, and evidently listening to Klingon Opera. Was that enough to spare a race? Certainly they were filled with a passionate history, but Vulcans denied their passions. They were too destructive. No, that was not enough, at least in Savros' opinion. They needed to learn from their mistakes and turn from them. Turning still, he noticed Lieutenant (J.G.) Doug again at the tactical station. It was obvious that he experienced discomfort from his stabbing. Perhaps he was lucky to be alive. This was the law of the harvest. You reap what you sow. Would the Federation be better off without the Klingon Empire? The effect of losing the Empire would lead to massive and wide spread destabilization, but it would settle. The Romulans and others would take their due. In the end, everything would shift and settle like tectonic plates. Their would be death, destruction and chaos for 30 or more years. Perhaps Cardassia would come out of its shell. Maybe others would find a way to imprison this dying race like they would do to others. Maybe they would be sold out like Orion slaves, something they supported...