Hanna-Beth Rieve

The thought of going back to the Gamma Quadrant and whipping some Soltan behind has already been planted in the collective Marine mind. Any chance we get to act on it?

==/\== Imperial Starfleet (Marine Division) Biographical File ==/\== == Vital Statistics == Name: Hanna-Beth Rieve Rank: Marine Captain Species: Human Gender: Female Age: 22 Height: 171 cm Weight: 64 kg Hair: Brown Eyes: Blue == Family == Marital status: Single Mother: Samantha Rieve Father: Albert Rieve (deceased) Siblings: 4 (2 deceased) Birthplace: Pioneer General Hospital, Pioneer Village, Theta Proxima Colony Next-of-kin: Parents, Currently residing on Theta Proxima Colony == Medical == Health: Excellent, All immunizations up to date Psychology: Normal, Consistent with a human of her age and background Psi-factor: 0.1 (negligible) == Academic Credit/Certifications == Degree: BA, Psychology/Military Arts/History, Imperial Fleet Academy (Marine Div), Annapolis Engineering: Basic training only, not certified; Class B Weapons Technology Medical: Basic training only, not certified Security: Class A Police Action/Internal Security, Completed Advanced Marine Training Science: Basic training only, not certified Flight operations: Class A Shuttle pilot, Class B Fighter pilot == Biography == Hanna-Beth was born to a farming family on the frontier Terran colony of Theta Proxima, founded by a breakaway group of pacifists years before. Their relationship with the Terran Empire was almost one of mutual ignorance: the colony provided the Empire with its goods, and the Empire left them alone. She would eventually become the the middle child of five. It was expected that she would settle land on the colony and marry her long-term boyfriend. Just before her seventeenth birthday, the Romulans made their farthest incursion into Terran space, destroying everything in their paths. The orbital bombardment came without warning. Hanna-Beth's father, oldest brother, and youngest sister were both killed in the attack. Her mother was severely injured. The Imperial Starfleet considered their distress signals a low priority. It was in the following year that she realized that her loyalties were misplaced: the outsiders were right that power was the key to survival and prosperity. Had Theta Proxima been more loyal or a more valuable assest, they could have protected themselves, and surely the Empire would have protected them in turn. On her eighteenth birthday, when the Imperial ships came for their semi-annual collection of goods, Hanna-Beth sailed off in one of them, intending to join the Imperial Marines. At the Academy, she was placed in officer training following extensive physical and psychological examinations. She completed training at the academy in the middle of her class, and was subsequently assigned to the 139th Marine Battalion, serving on the ISS Agincourt. == Imperial Fleet Record == 20503.01 Graduated Imperial Academy (Marine Div) 20503.07 Assigned to 139th Battalion, ISS Agincourt, rank of Private 20504.27 Promoted to Second Lieutenant. 20507.06 Promoted to First Lieutenant. 20512.21 Promoted to Marine Captain.

Marine Captain Hanna-Beth Rieve was well ready to go into a firefight. She was expecting her squad to come back with casualties. She was expecting some of the hostage engineers would be killed in the battle. She was prepared for an assault. She did not expect to be negotiating with a Romulan terrorist. She knew that she would not convince the Romulan to surrender. tr'Tonil, as he called himself, was right. He had the upper hand. He had the trigger switch on Agincourt's engines, and, given enough time, he could break the computer command codes and fire on whatever planet he wished to at will. The all-out assault had failed. At this point, Rieve's best option was to buy the bridge crew time. This put Rieve in a difficult starting position, to say the least. She tried to force Tonil's hand by taking a hard-line position. If Tonil shot an engineer, she would order her Marines to open fire. If Tonil had his way, the ship would be destroyed. So, shooting one engineer equals destroying the ship. Then, she tried to convince him that whatever his alternative mission with the ship was, it was more important than destroying Agincourt. She taunted tr'Tonil that if he simply destroyed the ship, his memorial would read: "Here lies tr'Tonil, the man who completed half his mission." She had to appeal to his senses of duty and "honor," although she didn't know to whom the duty was due, and she knew that the eventual duty was to kill them all. It was the only desperate way she could think of handling him. The bridge had been given an update on the situation. She hoped she could provide them with enough of a delay for an alternative solution to their pesky Romulan problem.

Marine Captain Hanna-Beth Rieve barely had a moment to think after the departure from Starbase 621. The shore leave was fun. Until then, she hadn't really seen Col. Harper, Lt. Col. Day, or Pvt. Merill outside of the NNC, training, and missions. But now, she had to bring her squad back up to full readiness, and to lose a few of those extra shore-leave pounds that came as the inevitable results of idleness and triple-chocolate cake. All in all, it was worth it. During the yellow alert, her mind wandered a little. "Hair." She told Day her Academy callsign a few days ago. Shore leave on Starbase 621 marked the first time it had been used in the 139th. Like most callsigns, there was a story behind it. And, it was an incident Hanna-Beth would rather forget. Level one fighter training was a required course for all first year Marine cadets. Unlike the fleeter equivalent, basic piloting training was taught in real fighters, instead of holographic simulators. The fighters were F-1560A sled fighters, short, thin, little clunkers that were pulled out of mothballs from some unknown Starfleet warehouse and threw out on the hapless cadets. They weren't just intended to teach how to fly. On these craft, equipped with the most minimal of inertial dampers, you could feel the results of any movement of the six-axis manual controls. Level two introduced more standard Starfleet spacecraft to those who survived the first level. It was also a course where many Marines obtained their callsigns. Perhaps the most memorable was "Bouncer," who made the mistake of overdoing the pitch control on his first run and found himself ricocheting off the energy barriers that made up the course. Hanna-Beth's turn came on her sixth run through the training course. Cadet Hanna-Beth was not the best pilot in the class, but she had demonstrated sufficient competence up to that point. The sixth run was also known as a make-or-break run. It separated the proverbial men from the boys, and the women from the girls. The sixth run was the first where the copilot-instructor's seat was empty. To pass, the craft had to take off, run the course without any collisions with the energy barriers, hit all ten simulated targets with the onboard with 75% or higher accuracy, and land the craft, all in under the allotted time. Failure meant failure in the pilot training program, and being sent back to the beginning of level one. The run began with a textbook take-off from the Jupiter-orbital training center's shuttle bay. The course deceptively started out straight and wide. One target was located dead-center of the course. It was variantly referred to as the "confidence booster" or "the trick." Once the craft was within firing range, it would begin to move along the course in a randomly spiralling motion. Those with quick instincts got it before it moved. Those who were slightly slower chased it through the entire course. Hanna-Beth hit it shortly after it began moving, right before the course narrowed and proceeded into three low-radius corkscrew turns. It was well known that there was a target embedded somewhere in the turns. On the second round, the target came up. She fired instictively... and missed. She had to slow down to get another shot. This time, the target was hit. After the third turn, the couse made a rapid shift leftward. Hanna-Beth pulled on the y-axis control. She felt something pulling at her head painfully. A lock of hair had fallen out the side of her helmet, and jammed itself in the groove where the y-axis control emerged from the right side of the cockpit. There was no time to figure out how to pull it out. The craft drifted leftward, going sideways through the course. In a stroke of luck, one target appeared right in front of her. Third target down. Then, the course changed direction again. The time, requiring a simultaneous quick pull on the z-axis control, the pitch and the roll in order to right the craft She found herself rolling in order to prevent the fighter from zipping into the energy barrier on account of the out-of-control y-axis setting, and ending her chances of passing the flight training. It was nauseating. . . . She landed the craft and attached to the last catch-rope in the shuttle bay. Her head was angled to the right because of the lock of hair. She could still feel the constant pulling, pushing and rolling from the course, even though she was stopped on solid ground. . . . The training XO objurgated her -- publically in front of the other cadets, of course -- in the least uncertain of terms. The XO tapped on a pad, and branded the text into her flight helmet: "Hair." The CO then took over to announce the scores. Cadet "Hair" had fired all thirteen allowed laser bolts, scored ten hits, with zero collisions, time -0.23 seconds. The decorum violation on its own wasn't grounds for failure of the course. She was passed on to level two. Back in the NNC, the orders came in. Her focus returned to the mission. "Back up" security. Jolly good. In case anyone got locked out of their quarters or lost a cat, they'd know just who turn to.

==/\== Starfleet (Marine Division) Biographical File ==/\== == Vital Statistics == Name: Hanna-Beth Rieve Rank: Private Species: Human Gender: Female Age: 22 Height: 171 cm Weight: 64 kg Hair: Brown Eyes: Blue == Family == Marital status: Single Mother: Samantha Rieve Father: Albert Rieve Siblings: 4 Birthplace: Pioneer General Hospital, Pioneer Village, Theta Proxima Colony Next-of-kin: Parents, Currently residing on Theta Proxima Colony == Medical == Health: Excellent, All immunizations up to date Psychology: Normal, Consistent with a human of her age and background Psi-factor: 0.1 (negligible) == Academic Credit/Certifications == Degree: BA, Psychology/Military Arts/History, Starfleet Academy (Marine Div), Annapolis Engineering: Basic training only, not certified; Class B Weapons Technology Medical: Basic training only, not certified Security: Class A Police Action/Internal Security/Conflict Resolution, Completed Advanced Marine Training Science: Basic training only, not certified Flight operations: Class A Shuttle pilot, Class C Fighter pilot == Biography == Hanna-Beth was born to a farming family on the Federation colony of Theta Proxima. She would eventually become the the middle child of five. It was expected that she would settle land on the colony and marry her long-term boyfriend. Instead, she left the colony the day after her eighteenth birthday following an earlier recruitment campaign by the Starfleet Marine Corps. At the academy, she was placed in officer training following extensive physical and psychological examinations. She completed training at the academy in the middle of her class, and was subsequently assigned to the 139th Marine Battalion, serving on the newly commissioned USS Agincourt. == Starfleet Record == 20503.01 Graduated Starfleet Academy (Marine Div) 20503.07 Assigned to 139th Battalion, USS Agincourt, rank of Private 20504.27 Promoted to Second Lieutenant. 20507.06 Promoted to First Lieutenant. 20512.21 Promoted to Marine Captain.

Thanks, Col!

Updated Starfleet record to account for promotions. Will update again if someone has the records so I can get the dates right...

1Lt. Hanna-Beth Rieve kept increasing the power on the phaser rifle and taking shots at the thing. She tried to think of it as if it were the small hull of a shuttle. If she were trying to break into it, how would she? But, even at settings that should, in all her experience, blast the whole room apart, the object stayed in place. The phaser energy absorbed or diffused, and the object remained undamaged. She called over the other Marines. If one phaser rifle couldn't break this thing apart, maybe a whole salvo could. They carefully positioned themselves around the object. A scientist or engineer might have calculated the optimal firing angles. The Marines went on training and experience. They readied themselves, aimed and fired. The object's encasing didn't budge. It seemed as if the Romulans had constructed this particular object to withstand even the destruction of their own ship. At this point, Lt. Rieve was wishing she could oblige them herself. Rieve then ordered the Marines to change the frequencies of their phasers. It was a technique that was used against the Borg's adaptation mechanism. The Marines randomized their frequencies and commenced fire, resulting in absolutely no change in their situation. But, they had only covered a small fraction of of available modes. The tedious job continued. Randomize, aim, fire, scan... Randomize, aim, fire, scan... After almost an hour of nonstop shooting at a target with the challenge level of shooting a parked vehicle, a hairline fracture finally appeared in the encasing. It was sensitive to a particular high-intensity green phaser beam. It was time to inform the engineers to see how they wanted to proceed..

Agincourt had something along those lines. Check out the Agincourt briefing and logs boards.

First Lieutenant Hanna-Beth Rieve couldn't let the dumbfounding surprise overtake her. The security procedures had somehow failed... there had been an explosion, many casualties, possibly including the president. She could no longer see the stage from the monitors through the thick smoke that now veiled the scene. One of the positioned cameras had fallen with a piece of the roof. It was transmitting the chaos of moving feet, running in all directions. In a strange form of irony, the central control position knew the least about what was happening firsthand. Rieve received incoming communications from the Marines on the ground. She had sent an emergency notification to Starfleet command. With the size of the crowd in the hall, and the failure of the safety systems, the best mode of evacuation would be by transporter. But, she knew that it would take Starfleet a few minutes to have their transporter facilties ready. A few minutes may be too late. Lt. Kansas Jones was next to her, in the process of contacting Agincourt. The Marines and Starfleet security were rushing in to control the flow of people out of the auditorium. The danger of a trampling incident was high. One group of Marines started to open new exit routes in the rear by drilling phaser holes in the building walls. The men on the ground reported in, and Hanna-Beth relayed the situation inside to the Marines outside, who were ordered to try to move the crowd away from the building, but keep them contained. Any one of them could have been the bomber, or one of the accomplices. The ceiling was coming down. The building was collapsing. Even though the scenes from the auditorium were taking place only a few tens of meters away, it seemed like a world away. A few minutes after the explosion, the smoke and dust became visible at the security post. It was happening, it was here. It was real. The time had come to abandon position, and recall the Marines still inside. Above the screaming, and the orders being sent back and forth, she could hear the hum of shuttes arriving. Starfleet Rescue had finally arrived. It seemed like an eternity. It was five minutes and sixteen seconds on the chronometer. There was no time to think about the failure. There was no time to think about the consequences, or the future. There was barely time for rescue.

Harper sat in her small office beside the NNC, reading and rereading the transfer orders on the PADD in her hand, and waiting with some trepidation for the arrival of the officer she had asked to see. First Lieutenant Hanna-Beth Rieve put down the tricorder she was working on, and walked into the office straight from the NNC. She had been summoned there by the Colonel, and she didn't intend to disappoint. She entered, and saluted. "Colonel, you wished to see me?" "Yes," Harper said, returning the salute with her free hand. Motioning the young lieutenant to a chair, Harper set the PADD down and folded her hands on the desk. "Well, I have good news and bad news," she began. "The good news is, Starfleet Command finally listened to my screaming for more officers." Rieve dropped the salute, then followed the Colonel's direction, carefully made her way to the seat and put herself down into it in the unique, rigid style they teach all the Marines at the academy. She listened intently. "That's good, Colonel." Harper nodded a little distractedly. "The bad news is, they're sending us someone who'll come in above you." She waited, her eyes on Rieve. Rieve tried not to display any emotion. Every Marine officer was supposed to crave command and promotion, after all, right? This was the equivalent of a demotion, in some perverted chain-of-command sort of way. But, all she could feel was a weight lifting off her chest. Relief. How, odd. She looked back towards the Colonel, trying not to appear like she was averting her gaze. She stated, pretty matter-of-factly, "I'm sure the squad, and myself, will have no problem adjusting to being under his command." "You're all professionals," Harper agreed. "But..." Her eyes flicked down the the PADD on the desk, then back up. "I wanted to make it clear to you, personally -- this isn't meant to be a reflection on your performance." "Thank you, Colonel. I won't take it that way. The squad needs officers, and we'll work with whoever Starfleet command decides to send." She almost wished it were a reflection on her performance. Not even a year out of the academy, and, already a whole squad of Marines relying on her. Of course, they still would. But, the burden of command was a heavy one. The reality of it doesn't sink in while training. She had no idea how the Captain and Colonel could handle the whole ship. Though pleased the conversation was going so smoothly, Harper was a little concerned. She'd never seen anyone take a de facto demotion so calmly before. "I've been proud to have you as my second," she said, "and I'm certain you're going to make a fine commander in a few years." Rieve looked straight back at Harper. "Thank you, ma'am." A bit quieter, she added in, "maybe, in a few years." Harper sighed internally. It appeared she wouldn't get anything more from Rieve. "Very well. That's all, then -- dismissed." And as she watched Rieve depart, she reflected that this Major Vaos had better be worth the trouble.

First Lieutenant Hanna-Beth Rieve sat on the edge of her bed in her small quarters. She leaned over the console; her shoulder-length hair, that was usually tied upwards, was let down, and it now flowed down over the side of her face. She faced the countertop that doubled as the top of her dresser. The lights in the room were dimmed, and two small candles burned on the countertop. Behind the candles was a mirror built into the wall, where she could see her own figure illuminated by the backlighting and the small flames. The woman looked towards that direction in quiet reflection. It was a Friday evening. When Hanna-Beth was young, her elderly great-grandmother Ella would have her family over for dinner on Friday nights. The artificial lights were always low, and there were always two candles on the table. Neither she nor her immediate family had continued the tradition. She didn't know anything of its original significance; by the time she could understand it, Ella had already died of old age. Hanna-Beth had barely spoken to her family since leaving Theta Proxima for the Marine academy. Occasionally, she would send them a message, and receive a reply back. They were curteous, but distant. But, they still hadn't gotten used to the distance, nor could they grasp the idea of their own blood as a Marine. It had been a long week. The battle simulation had ended, and, even after all the reports and debriefings, Hanna-Beth still wasn't sure how to evaluate herself. When it started, communication between the security officers and the Marines wasn't top notch. It was mostly a top-down command scenario with the Marines on the bottom. Tactics and planning were minimal. But, once she was given some leeway to make decisions, and a plan began to take shape, the lines of communication began to open between her Marines and the security teams. When Kor'both challenged her, it showed that there was a new openness between them in the game. Her team, and even the security officers, performed admirably. Even though everyone knew it was just a simulation, they certainly went above and beyond the call of duty fighting to the last man. She thought that they could study the data tapes for months, and still learn from their successes and failures -- meaning, both Alpha and Bravo teams'. But, while the battle simulation weighed heavily on her, it was not all that was on her mind. With the transfers of 1Lts. Nesbitt and Seversen, she had become the ranking officer in the NNC while Col. Harper performed her duties as XO on the bridge. Effectively, the go-to girl for the active-duty Marines. And, Col. Harper was a touch act to follow. Hanna-Beth looked over at herself in the mirror and lightly touched her new pip with her fingers, then placed her hand back down on the bed. The long week was over, the candles burned brightly. Now, it was time to reflect, recover, and rest for the next challenge.

CORRECTION: During the sim, we'd assumed the battle bridge was on deck 6; according to the specs, it's on deck 5. Magic edit the record to your delight. The set up was now complete, and it was time to set the assault plan in motion. With the Jeffries tubes sealed by Robair and his team, there was only only one way to the battle bridge -- through the turbolift. But, Bravo team hit a snag. It was now obvious that not only were they being tracked by Alpha team, but that Alpha team also had the capabilities to take over the manual control of the turbolift. 2Lt. Hanna-Beth Rieve thought that the Alphas revealing themselves was a grave mistake, and she was greatful for it. Their desire to brag of their small victory denied them the element of surprise, and allowed Bravo team to come in better prepared. When Cpl. Wilkins saw the message from the Alphas, he immediately disconnected the controlling tricorder. It was replaced with a new one that was quickly reprogrammed for the manual turbolift control -- better firewalled, but not impenetrable. Before that stunt, Rieve could only assume that the Alphas would be tracking them. But, now that Bravo team knew that they were being tracked and hacked, they could use that to their advantage. The turbolift would take them all to deck 12. From there, Kor'both and his team would follow Rieve and her team up the turbolift crawlway to deck 5. Meanwhile, Cpl. Wilkins would maintain control of the turbolift as long as he could, bringing it through the crawlway to the space between decks 6 and 7 behind the battle bridge. Hopefully, the Alphas would know that that was a prime access point for the Jeffries tubes leading to Decks 5 and 6 and the battle bridge... and might expect the attack to come from the rear. The attack would have two other diversions in place. Sgt. Greene would stay with Ens.(?) Bill in main engineering. From there, Sgt. Greene would make sure that the battle bridge's auxilliary power was otherwise engaged when it was needed by Alpha team; he rerouted the auxilliary power to an infinite loop taking place in the deck 5 replicator system. As a side effect, if anyone ordered anything from the replicators there, they would instead get Marine MRE Meatloaf, the smell of which was enough to stun a grown Klingon. Bill would remotely detonate the simulated explosive device that Robair had planted, knocking out main power to the battle bridge. Lance Corporal Adams would attempt to divert their attention by initiating communications with the battle bridge from a shuttle in the lower shuttle bay. She wasn't quite sure what tricks Adams had up his sleeve, given that he was fresh out of the academy, but, there was no better time than now for on-the-job training in thinking on his feet, when the danger was only simulated. In the crawlway, Mid. Kor'both had questioned Rieve's decision to send her own team in first. At first, she had assumed it was another of those petty security officer glory grabs, but, as Kor'both stood down, she realized that he was just doing his duty -- attempting to protect his commanding officer -- and she respected that. She knew that she owed the midshipman an apology for her reaction and her assumptions, so she put it on her list of things to do after the simulation was over. With LCpl. Adams, Cpl. Wilkins, and Sgt. Greene off on other duties, the first assault could not be left to only Rieve and Sgt. Mendez. Robair's squad was rapidly catching up with them through the crawlways, and they would have to join in the first attack force, if there was to be any chance of success. The first attack would be a joint operation, or it would fail. She hoped that Mid. Kor'both would carefully set his stopwatch to give them prompt relief two minutes later. The time delay was necessary. After the actual assault began, Alpha team would certainly be counting how many Bravos "landed" from the turbolift bay. When they saw only half of Bravo team accounted for, they should expect another attack from the rear turbolift/Jeffries tube diversion. Rieve thought it might cause the Alphas to redeploy their forces to the rear, expecting a second assault. Instead, Kor'both and his squad would reinforce the first push towards the battle bridge. Shortly before the attack, Sgt. Mendez would send a multifrequency pulse through his tricorder in an attempt to confuse the sensors on any improvised explosive devices. It was a trick taught in the Marine academy, known to be only 40% successful, but, for now, it was the best they had. The assault team would have to watch out for booby traps in addition to clearing enemy fighters. Rieve slowly, manually opened the turbolift door until it was slightly ajar, and readied to lob a set of three stun grenades into the unseen distance, leaving a clear path through the first part of the turbolift to battle bridge hallway. After that, they were committed. The technological phase of the plan was coming to an end. The Battle of Deck 5 was about to begin in earnest.

Personal log, Agincourt battle simulation, first hour. This exercise has been my first contact with security chief Lt. Cmdr. Robair. Given his rank and position, he must be an experienced commander. But, his command style is haphazard at best, dangerous at worst. As a loyal officer, I will continue to follow Robair's orders. But, if this exercise is leading where I think it is, joint security-Marine operations will be the norm on Agincourt. I only hope that his real-world battlefield plans are not as confused as his simulated ones. Our major objective is the battle bridge - if we take control there, we win the game. As usual, the defenders have the advantage. There are a limited number of access modes to each deck: the turbolifts and the Jeffries tubes. His first plan involved sending the Marines in as decoys in the turbolift, and attacking through the Jeffries tubes. This attack was risky, and probably would have led to heavy losses. But if the Alphsa had only ten minutes to prepare for the assault, and faced a diversion, it had a chance to succeed. Needless to say, they would know that they were being diverted, but then, they would have to scramble to defend all access ports at once. In my squad, Sgt. Greene has the most engineering experience, and, he was able to quickly hotwire the tubrolift to operate by remote control from the tricorder. We were going to hide in the upper crawlway, and let the lift doors open, then, when an Alpha came in to investigate the empty turbolift, we would set off a stun-grenade booby trap, drawing more Alpha forces towards the turbolift, and away from the Bravo security forces, who would take over the battle bridge. Then, for some reason, with only minutes to go, the attack was delayed, and we were called in to create yet another diversion -- communications from the shuttle. Initially, I left Sgt. Greene and new recruit Lance Coporal Adams to modify the shuttle, but then, we needed electronics assistance in main engineering, where the Alphas had no presence. Cmdr. Robair's team, in addition to sealing off all the Jeffries tubes (leaving only the turbolift shafts as entryways!?), planted a simulated explosive to try to knock out their main power. Along with security support from Mid. Kor'both, we have secured Main Engineering, and are now attempting to reroute the battle bridge's auxiliary power. Sgt. Greene has informed me that hacking Agincourt's systems is not easy, but that he may be able to reroute all the auxilliary power through functioning lower priority systems. One possibility involves continually cycling a pattern through the replicator pattern buffers, a huge waste of energy. The Alphas would first learn about it when they tried to order food. Meanwhile, a noise diversion could be created through the comm system, which we can keep online through auxilliary power; shortly afterwards, we can knock out main power. According to Cmdr. Robair's last communique, all turbolifts on automatic control have now been shut down. This leaves only our turbolifts operating, undoubtedly tracable on the battle bridge's main systems display. This could come to our advantage. The operating turbolift could now become the diversion. Meanwhile, with the turbolift power disabled, the shafts become more accessible, precluding a hypothetical assault force from having to eidetically remember the positions of the power junctions to avoid a nasty shock. With over a half-hour now elapsed into the simulation, we may, nay, must now assume that all entryways and corridors on the battle-bridge deck are now booby-trapped. Given that we haven't encountered any Alpha team members in such an obvious target as main engineering, we should assume that the Alphas began by bunkering themselves in a fortified battle bridge. Alternatively, they may already be trying to exit and ``hunt,'' but be blocked in by the shuttered Jeffries tube hatches. At this ``late'' -- two things are certain: First, any assault, no matter how carefully carried out, will result in large numbers of Bravo ``losses.'' And second, this will become a battle of technologies in addition to being a test of combat prowess. And, there, I have to admit deficiency; the engineering knowledge required here is well beyond the basic Marine proficiency requirements. If Greene is knocked out of the game, I don't know where I would turn. If this exercise does expose our weaknesses, perhaps it is worthwhile after all.

H.A.N.N.A.: Hydraulic Artificial Nullification and Negotiation Android (what!?) B.E.T.H.: Biomechanical Electronic Troubleshooting Humanoid (I'm so not an engineer!) R.I.E.V.E.: Robotic Individual Engineered for Violence and Exploration (I like it!)

Hanna-Beth Rieve collected the tray with Vulcan dish for herself, and some more-or-less random liquid for Tethra Shoeny. She could barely pronounce what she had ordered, but, she figured, 'how bad could it be?' She found a seat in the Starbase's central food court, and and handed the drink to Tethra as she sat down. Tethra gently took the drink from Hanna, with a gentle smile upon his face he sat down opposite to her and the drink was softly placed on the table. Hanna looked at her generous portion food for a moment, then back at Tethra's bland drink. She couldn't help but mention, "this seems a little awkward." "Why is that" he looked at her strangly as he placed his finger in his drink to absorb the nutrients. Hanna blinked. "I guess you must be used to it. You know, one person sitting with a whole plate in front and you only have a 'tasteless' drink." She began to eat her meal, slowly. "It is not the meals that bring satisfaction, it is the company" he smiled at her absorbing his drink. "Why, thank you, doctor. I guess the whole getting used to cultural differences thing never really sunk in. I'm supposed to be here exploring new, unseen worlds, and, here I am not understanding my own fellow officers." She smiled as she said that. "Well you talked to me didn't you?" Tethra said as he swirled his finger. "That in it's own is a great step in the beginning of the understanding of others and of course oddly enough yourself." "As I recall, you snuck up on me from behind." She took another bite. She paused for a moment to drink her water, swallow, and to bring in a new thought. "Take a look at this, for example -- native Vulcan food is full of variety, and yet, on a starship, they'll all order up nutritional supplements." She continued on the previous topic, "I'm not asocial. It's just a big ship." Tethra looked at her smiling. "Interesting thought it is indeed." removing his finger from the glass. "Though in time you shall meet many of your crewmates and begin to grow a close bond with it's plating. It is merely the cycle we take." "I'm sure I will. Enough of my whining... what's your story?" "I am unsure of what you mean" Tethra pondered as he placed his finger back in his glass "What is it that you mean when you say 'my story' ". "Well... I mean..." she stopped eating for a few moments to think over -- what did she mean? And how could she say it without feeling like the antithesis of what a Starfleet or Marine officer was supposed to be. "I mean ... you're not like anyone else on the ship. Of course, we all have some common experiences, we've all been through Academy," (q) "and diversity training," (n) "but, still you're far away from home, everyone else's ... I guess the best word is... culture ... is so much different from yours." "Oh you want to know of my home?" Tethra softly asorbed some of his drink. "It is a place I gravely miss each day, for we have a great connection to water it is what gives us strength wisdom." he slowly pulled his finger from the glass once more and patted his left gill. "Is there anything about me that you would like to know in particular? Nothing taboo" She took the chance that she could really be open with him. "Well, for one thing, about the first thing I noticed when I saw you off duty is ... is that ... you're naked." "Naked?" he looked at her unsure of what she meant. "Oh, right the absense of clothing that is right. My species finds clothing to be restricting, I am aquatic it is very difficult to swim with garments on. Also it irritates my delicate skin so it is better to be without it whenever I can." "I guess that makes sense. To you, all of our embarrassment must seem equally unusual" "It is true" He smiled "I find it quite strange to see people with garments on anyways, rather than be as the seas had intended." "You always speak of the seas as if they're alive on their own," she noticed, curiously. "The seas of Minerva are alive." Tethra placed his finger in his glass again and slowly swirled his finger around the mixture "It is the sea which is the dominant species not the Minervans themselves, I suppose this is how we differ from most other species. We accept that were are at the wills of our enviroments not the other way around." Hanna-Beth was making good progress on her dish. "Interesting. And, you don't see the advance of technology, settling space, terraforming new worlds, as being out of harmony with nature?" He smiled at her and finished the asorbance of his beverage. "Other worlds may not be alive but it not so for the Minervan sea, we hear her talking." "Even out here?" she inquired. "A mother cares for her children, no matter where they venture" he smiled "I am sorry, but I have spoken too much of my home already, she is telling me to stop." Hanna-Beth giggled at Tethra's joke. But, in the back of her mind, she thought: if Tethra could hear his home, even though it was light years away, she could surely make a home out here on Agincourt. Tethra looked at her unsure why she was giggling, but placed his hand over the beverage and dispelled the thing he has spent absorbing for the past little while. -- Lt.(jg) Tethra Shoeny Medical Officer USS Agincourt, NCC-81762

Hanna-Beth sat at a barstool next to JP Marks. She was manipulating a half-full glass containing a dark amber liquid with her fingers, every once in a while, taking a sip, then placing the glass back down on a coaster. "Four years at the academy, and I don't think I ever had a Saurian brandy." JP let out a slight sigh as he finished his third glass of the liquor. "Its an old family favorite. Potent yet easy on the body; theres nothing like it in the universe." "Easy on the body?" she giggled, as she slowly sipped the harsh Brandy. "Easy for you to say...I still don't understand how you could slide halfway across the holodeck floor and come our without a scratch ... with or without the safety protocols" JP replaced his drink and shrugged his shoulders a bit. "Well, you have to remember, I have a bit less friction on my right arm then you do... I can slide quite a bit." Hanna-Beth made an eyebrow-raising motion, but it just led her to have a strange expression on her face. "What did you do, coat it with Teflon?" JP cracked a very small and uncharacteristic smile at the joke. It quickly evaporated as he lifted up the sleeve of his tunic. "Not exactly... You see this? Looks like my own but... If I push here..." JP pressed down on a almost invisable pressure switch right below the elbow and his skin flew up with the latch. He sighed a bit as the latch came up and he showed the exposed wiring and circuitry inside. "That, Miss Rieve, is why." Hanna-Beth put down her drink and moved her head back in surprise. Her eyes bugged out for a few seconds, and she said, quietly, somewhat embarrassed by her lightheartedness, "I... didn't know." JP quickly flipped back down the plate and watched as it blended back in with his arm. "Not too many people do." With another soft sigh he resumed the nursing of his Brandy. "It's a Maddox model... Really quite advanced and incredible..." Hanna-Beth's embarrassment waned somewhat. "It's almost like you're proud of it" JP's eyes widened. His 4 drink buzz was quickly replaced by a combination of anger, disgust, and sorrow. He opened his mouth and then closed it and then stared straight out into nothingness. "Pride," JP said softly, "is not the word that comes to mind..." And all that the woman could say was, "I'm sorry." The drink must have been getting to her more than she had thought. JP watched as his brandy was refilled and he nursed it slowly. He coughed slightly and then leaned back in his chair. "Its OK, Miss Rieve, its just a bit of a soft spot for me." JP's discomfort was readily apparent, and Hanna-Beth decided that now wasn't the time to resume playing psychologist, especially not with an elevated BAC. She tried to reduce the tension, and change the subject, "You can call me Hanna" JP stopped himself from allowing his thoughts to drift back to Alpha Prime, remembering his promise to Kroells to "loosen" up. With a downing of his drink sat back up. "Well Hanna, call me JP. And honestly, I want to try and forget about my past and attempt to 'loosen' up. So lets go toss some darts, and perhaps, you can explain to me why you joined the Starfleet Marine corp and I can tell you why Starfleet Security is superior." JP winked slightly at Hanna, trying desperetely to "loosen" his image. Hanna chuckled; the man seemed to be open ... at least about some of his insecurities. She stepped up from the barstool and responded "You always need a new challenge, JP?" JP smiled slightly. "Yeah, something like that." He began walking over to the dart board and started a game up. "So tell me Hanna, why did you join the Marines? I mean... You don't really seem like the type to me." Hanna kept up with JP's dart thing. She wasn't paying very much attention to the game. "You mean the high school dropout who couldn't make the grades, so she escapes to carrying big phasers in the hopes it would compensate ... no, it's not really like that, despite the best of rumors in San Francisco." She let JP have a few moments to let him know that she knew about the image, then opened her mouth again. "I was running away, but not that way... I had to make something more of myself than a second-generation farmer in the middle of nowhere" The dart hit the 12, second ring. JP raised an eyebrow and moved up to shoot. "Yeah, but the Marines? Couldn't you of done something other then the 'Spacer Militia?'" JP shot close to the bullseye, a 3. "Command would probably want me to say something like 'the recruiters came and I was blown away by the comraderie and spirit of the Marines' mission,' or something like that. The truth is probably that the Marines were there, I guess. Those desires -- to go places and to make a difference -- they grew on me. What can I say, they turned me into an idealist... In the end, we're all on the same boat, JP." 19 points, barely hitting the edge of the board. . "Well that seems all well and good but... Eh... Maybe its just the Brandy talking but I really don't think your people belong on Starships." 1 point, just above the bullseye. "I mean its nothing personal, but the Marines seem too Gung Ho for my tastes. I mean its all rah rah rah... No sense of dignity." "I'm sure it's nothing personal, JP," she added with a note of sarcasm, "Marine training is more than just screaming loudly. It builds discipline and teamwork." After her recent experiences, she was almost convincing herself. "Putting the needs of the many ahead of the needs of the one, as a Vulcan might say." Hanna-Beth didn't realize how much defending her own existence to another could help her come to terms with her lot. She shot again, 18 points, in the first ring. JP shook his head and managed to score a bullseye. "If you say so but lets be honest with ourselves. What does the Marine accomplish by butting in on Starfleet Security? We are trained to handle the same situations except rather then dealing with it purely by 'warlike' methods, we are experienced in Negociations and Tactical scenereos... I just can't understand why you became the go-to members on the ship..." "Nice shot. Is that what this is all about? Turf? You want to see more action? Let's face it, Starfleet is in way over its head. I'm no Kent McClure, [-- ed. FNS News Correspondent/Analyst] but at the rate the galaxy's going the Fleet's going to need all the help it can get. The Federation is changing, or at least that's what they say in my parents' generation. I'm bound to believe them." Hanna-Beth concentrated on the target for a few seconds. 20 pts, knocks off one of JP's old darts. JP scoffed a bit and shook his head. He threw another dart. "I don't think thats accurate. The galaxy is changing but its for the better. You know though... Maybe its just because of the bias between our two groups is why I don't trust the Marines. I mean if you heard some of the horror stories told to us... In fact, its almost like your group was more responsible for damage then for cleaning it up." JP connected with yet another bullseye. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I don't feel like my group of trained "officers" should have to worry about a bunch of kids with rambunctious dreams and too many Rifles... No offense Hanna." Hanna couldn't help but let out a big belly laugh. "It's those 'horror stories' that help keep up our reputation." She continued, "We follow orders, you follow orders. I'm not sure what they told you, but, I think action will speak louder than rumor." Hanna-Beth mindlessly threw another dart at the board, hitting the border of the 7 and the 19, somewhere in the center of the board. It records as a 7. JP smiles lightly and throws his last dart, a 4, close to the center. Despite two perfect bullseyes, he still lost the game. "Sigh... Well looks like you got this one. And maybe you're right... I mean you don't seem too bad, although, I still say your shooting can use more practice." Another weak smile escapes JP's lips. Hanna-Beth wasn't sure if JP would ever get over the indoctrination that comes from a sense of inferiority. She hoped he would. If only he could get over his prejudice, he seemed like he could be a nice person. She smiled back. "Good game. If I don't detox by 0500, the XO's going to have my head." JP nodded. "Indeed. It was fun Hanna." JP extended his hand to Hanna. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?" She firmly shook his hand, and with much resolve, added, "Maybe," then, she turned around, and left the bar. JP looked after her one last time. "Indeed..." He sighed a bit and sat back at the bar, wondering if he should of continued to bury his feelings rather then letting them out...

In the grand scheme of a human life, 1.5423 seconds is not a lot of time. But, with the adrenaline pumping through her veins, 2Lt. Hanna-Beth Rieve's senses and thoughts raced by at the speed of light. Having just pressed a button on the phaser rifle, her ears heard the device charging and her eyes saw the ready indicator bar rising. Soon, it would be able to pump the energy through its coils, and into ... someone else. She held the phaser as if the familiarity of its shape would somehow give her comfort. Meanwhile, her nose led her back to the inescapable conclusion: "I stink." And, her concious mind was filled with unease about the possible upcoming mission. "I sent a man to his death" "I'm about to do it again"

In the turbolift, Pvt. Hanna-Beth Rieve performed her duty. She found the victim, scanned him for forensic evidence that might explain the circumstances of his death, that might explain the circumstances of the attack on the station. Then, she continued on to the second floor. She had been trained to see death, and to keep working, she is a Marine. She tried to appear unaffected, but, for some reason, she couldn't get the Starfleet officer's face out of her mind. It was different from the training at the academy, when the holodeck computer simulated the loss of comrades, or, from the funerals she attended of Marines she had never known. It was even different from the sudden loss of Cpl. Steele, whom she had known and trained with for nearly a week, in the heat of battle. In the turbolift, Hanna-Beth spent barely a minute staring at the man's face, but, the image followed her around on the second floor. Who was this man? What was he doing in the turbolift when the fatal disruptor blast hit him? Was he going for help? Did he ever see the Romulan/Reman invasion force coming? That morning, could he have forseen that his blood would mark the footprints of the enemy? A man who was once living, breathing, and thinking was now a shell of inanimate matter. Now, his thoughts, the essence of his being, were somewhere in between nowhere and oblivion. Death was a normal part of life, she had been told, but, it always struck a unique individual. This time, one in the midst of performing his duty. Momentarily, the focus of Hanna-Beth's thoughts shifted back to herself, and, just as suddenly, they returned to the mission at hand.

It had been a week since she had left Theta Proxima. Hanna-Beth, whose farthest trip had been to visit a cousin in another settlement, had now traveled hundreds of light years in an assortment of ships. Getting from the colonial backwater to Earth was no easy task. First, she had to book passage on a freighter to Starbase 444. From there, she hitched a ride on a transport to Epsilon Indii spaceport. As she walked out into the crowded spaceport, she felt just how small she was. More people walked past her in those corridors than lived on her home planet. She felt out of place, or like she was being stared at. But, it wasn't like she wasn't drawing attention to herself. To the others, she must have looked like a lost girl; in some sense, she was. And, she couldn't help but take extended glances at the variant forms of non-humans who walked in the port, each one a distinct individual, each one going about his own business. Hanna-Beth reached into her left pocket, then continued on, carrying only herself and her bag of possessions to the next destination. From Epsilon Indii, she took a large passenger liner to Jupiter Station, Sol system, via Alpha Centauri. Finally, she grabbed a Starfleet shuttle from Jupiter Station to Earth. The shuttle approached Earth on the night side, from between the Earth and the moon. She didn't take her eyes off the window. She could see other ships passing the shuttle, coming from all directions in the highly choreographed motion controlled by Earth space traffic control. But what really moved her was the view of the whole planet and its moon, both covered in lights. Each light was the sum of millions of other smaller lights, uniting into one. She reached into her left pocket, and took out a slip of paper that she had written many years ago, an ancient message learned by her in middle school. "I am the dust of the earth," it said. Finally, a shuttle took her to the Starfleet Marine Division Academy and training grounds. After registration and assignment of shared quarters, her first stop was the subspace terminal. As she oriented herself, and rested a while, she felt a certain simultaneous excitement and nervousness. She made it to the Academy. Now, all that was left were four years of grueling physical and mental challenges. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that thought; She had been reminded many times that the officer candidate exams were tough, and, mostly because the test was not about what you know. ~~~ Four years later, she stood on the parade grounds, standing tall, in full dress uniform. A new pip was placed on her. Gone was the scared girl who left Theta Proxima. Now, she was a Marine. After the ceremony, she reached into her right pocket. There, on a yellowed, torn slip of paper, in the handwriting of a long-gone twelve year old, was written: "the world was created for me."

Thanks, but I can't take credit for the concept, although its use in this log entry is kind of twisted.

I'll take: WARNING: Point away from face and body Thanks.

Four years ago, in an otherwise nondescript farmhouse on Theta Proxima colony... Tensions were high in the Rieve household, at a level not experienced since eldest brother Bobby's wedding. They had just celebrated Hanna-Beth's eighteenth birthday; they had expected to be celebrating her acceptance to university, and possibly her engagement, when they learned the news. Now, the momentary shock was over, and the bewildered parents were forced to come to terms with their newly "adult" daughter's decision. With most of the lights out and the house quiet, her parents conversed in the living room. "Why didn't she tell us? She could have told us!" Samantha was still in the form of dazed panic that led her to speak in short, uncertain sentences. "She was trying to avoid /this/, Sam," Al said, his voice composed, but his insides as jumpy as Sam's. "We would have had more time to prepare. We could have talked her out of it..." Al let her continue letting off steam at him, as he flipped through the headlines of "The Pioneer Journal." "... and what do we tell George and Jane? And how could she just leave Elroy like that?" Al thought for a moment. "Remember your parents' reactions when you joined the Scouts? You turned out all right." He faked a smile. "That was different. We went camping. We went hunting, cooked, and ate wild game in the mountains. We didn't tear ourselves apart, get reassembled, drop in on far away worlds and get shot at!" Samantha gave her husband a look of consternation that she was sure he would know how to interpret after their thirty-five years of marriage. His wife had a point. "How can you be so calm? Our daughter is throwing her life away!", Samantha simultaneously asked and preached. Al looked away from his newspad for a moment and looked straight at his worried wife. "Don't worry, the first week isn't known as 'hell week' for nothing. Let her have her adventure. When reality hits her, she'll be back at our front door." The thought nagged him -- what if he were wrong? Hanna-Beth knew the trauma she was causing her family and friends. She did not want to hurt her parents. She did not want to cause her siblings angst. And, she had nothing against Elroy Jonset. But, she also knew that she couldn't stay where she was. The place was too stifling. Her destiny was too set in stone. She looked at her opened bags for moment, and ran through a checklist in her head. As much as her departure was an act of rebellion, she did not want to find herself hundreds of light years away without a toothbrush. She pulled a small plush bear out of the bag, and stared at it for a few moments as if in deep thought, then she set it aside. She closed the luggage and pressed the button that engaged the magnetic seal. She then turned out the lights and went to bed for the final time in her girlhood home.