Shane

Hey STSF, So as the post indicates, I'm wanting to return to simming. I have ever since I left because of my schedule, but you know how that goes. I realize that I will need to work through the Academy once again, but do not mind. In coming back, I would to explore the possibility of using my old character, Shane. He's been through three different simulations at this point, starting with the Aegis, then to the Reant and finally the Qob: Tranquility. Through the years, he traveled through at least three different universes, served on over five vessels, fought almost everything in the Trek universe(including the Federation itself) before ending up as the head engineer aboard Joe Manning's merc Bird of Prey, the Qob. Shane's life has been a hard one and left him an angry, bitter, shell of a cyborg. After leaving the Reant to serve aboard another Federation vessel as a Chief Engineer pursuing a promising career in the Federation's ranks, the man's fortune took a turn for the worse when his ship was caught in a split with reality and lost to another universe. The new home for the ship's crew was one the worst nightmares imaginable, where the Borg had won the battle for Earth after Wolf 359 and where spreading across the galaxy. Similar to, if not the same place glimpsed in the TNG episode "Parallels." Shane survived(I used the term loosely) for almost 13 years, before barely fighting his way into the universe of Qob:Tranquility which was in the middle of a Federation civil war. Seeing the first glimpses of his home being ripped to shreds again, Shane joined the fight for the heart of the Federation. Unfortunately, his side lost and Shane was forced again to flee for his life. When Shane left the Aegis, he had a mere prosthetic from a battle near the station. By the time he was hired on to the Qob, he was more machine than man, his prosthetic and his attachments taking up most of one side of his torso. What he had installed was much of his own making from parts he could scavenge. The man is hard, "shoot first, ask questions if he feels like it," hard drinking, cigar chewing brute of a man and a very enjoyable character to play as. I've missed working with him ever since the Qob closed and have a steady schedule now to enjoy a sim. He has a rich history which can be traced back through the forums and through emails with GMs(all of which I have). I would like to see if any of the GMs would be willing to work him into their crew. I've attached the image I normally used for him. Let me know here or email me at: [email protected]

Hey Bybs! Good to see that you're still around and kickin' Do you know if any of the other Qob crew are still around?

"Jykin' qoh..." grumbled Shane under his breath as the bunker door slid shut at the top of the stairs, sealing in the majority of the Qob crew underground with the blood splattered, dark doctor at the other end of the room. The Gilmo connection had been a long shot, that he would admit. He knew that Gilmo wouldn't admit to connections to him unless his arm was twisted and hard. Trouble seemed to follow the cyborg around like a Klingon after a good fight. Gilmo knew that all too well. Shane glanced at the Orion. He figured she was angry with him for jumping in head-first, as much as she usually objected to on-the-go planning. Maybe he should have waited, but the captain and the annoying pilot could have already been in pieces for all they knew so he had felt time was of the essence. Employees don't get paid if the credit holder is lying in a medical freezer. And that Argyle character had made him wary. But he guessed a little more planning would have been better in hindsight. Something to keep in mind for the next crisis. He had hoped that the medical staff would make an offer for him if he came asking about reconstructive surgery but that had fallen apart quickly. He would probably get another chewing on that once they got out of this. If they got out. The big cyborg looked back down the hallway, narrowing his eyes at the mysterious doctor and slipping the holster strap off his gauss pistol. He had been in worst fixes then this before and gotten out relatively unharmed. Time to see if his luck held out...

"Mr. Gilmo is waiting inside." Gurk the Klingon motioned towards the end of the corridor with his disruptor. A red and grey, rusted doorway stood several meters down the dimly lit, dripping hallway. Shane and Byblos both took a step before Gurk held up his weapon to the latter. "Just Tayjer," he snarled, "the Naussy stays with me." The pair looked and shrugged. Shane headed for the door in the hallway as his boots clanged against the metal floor, speaking over his shoulder to his partner, "Don't kill him yet Bybs." Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the next room as the rusty door slid away out of his way. The room the big cyborg was a large office that was sparsely decorated with filled book-shelve and a small bar lining one side. Opposite of that, the wall had been replaced with transpari-steel that gave a view into the company’s private yard where a several small ships where being built. Gilmo sat behind his average sized metal desk at the other end of Shane, reading absently over a file with his feet propped up. The balding, pudgy man looked up at the clanging sound of Shane’s boots on the floor and lowered his boots down to the floor, tossing the file aside. “Have a seat Tayjer,” he said as he stood and moved to the bar, “what do you want to drink?” “Nothing,” Shane replied in his low growl of a voice as he sat heavily in one of the two metal chairs in front of the desk, “and the name is Shane.” Gilmo grinned slightly as he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and leaned against the bar, regarding Shane. “Only Shane? I suppose you wouldn’t have told this crew of your past quite yet. Not after what happened when your last captain found out who you are…or where anyway. That’s why I wanted to speak in private with you for a moment, between old friends.” “Acquaintances, nothing more.” Shane’s cold glare fixed on Gilmo, disdain written on his face. “I won’t forget how you cut out on us.” “The Fleet was dying Shane, everyone knew that. I’m all for fighting for an ideal, but only if there’s hope. And from what I heard, it wasn’t a moment too soon.” Shane bristled visibly at Gilmo’s last words, his expression growing colder. “Your ship might have made a difference. Instead you went to your scum of boss, running with your tail between your legs.” “Spare me Tayjer,” Gilmo said dismissively with a wave of his free hand as he walked back to his seat, “we’ve argued this before. I had a family to feed and a crew on the verge of mutiny. The Bossman may be what some narrow-minded fools may consider corrupt, but he pays for loyalty and results. I’ve given both. If you hadn’t been consumed by revenge, you’d be at my level of achievement or better. But look at you. A shell of a man, if you could be called that and working as a petty merc. What’s next, raiding?” Shane stood suddenly, his real fist clenched white knuckled, the claw clanging shut and his face reddened with a rage. But he didn’t move towards Gilmo because in the recesses of his bitter mind, he knew the smaller man was right. Instead he turned and walked to the giant window, staring out as he buried his anger with a long sigh. Gilmo moved hand back under the desk where it had slipped to a disruptor and took a sigh as well, watching the cyborg with a frown. The two sat in silence for moment before Shane spoke. “I’m here for information, Gilmo. Nothing more.” Gilmo thought for several long moments before replying, “What have you got to offer?”

The small thin young man named Nel shuffled nervously along with his two new "friends". Looking side long at the man walking along beside, pushing him along with an iron grip on his shoulder. A tall and surprisingly well dressed Nausicaan and a huge cyborg with the biggest prosthetic he had ever seen. Boy, was his luck rotten. First he gets on the Boss-man's bad-side whose right hand goon assigns him the job of hauling an 11TE type engine by hand, threatened by a ferocious beating if he was late in arrival. Now he gets singled out by the dynamic duo of doom, which wouldn't leave him alone. For the tenth time that day he considered running off. If only he had the guts... But an idea had begun to germinate inside Nel's little head. A little idea by a little man to get back on Boss-man's good side. He knew that the supply of trustworthy thugs in the business had gotten low lately because of Gular's recent crackdowns. A lot of them had either been bought out, or were free-floating in open space with a suit. If he could bring in some new guys, bigger and meaner than any of the Boss-man's rivals, maybe he could regain credibility. Of course if they turned out rotten, it would be on his head. But he didn't have any better options and life had taught him to take opportunity when he could get it. Which wasn't often for the scrawny fellow. "So," Nel said, after a hard swallow in his nervously dry throat, "you guys looking for a job?" Shane, who had been stomping along next to Nel, twisted and looked back at Byblos with his bionic mechanically whining and whirring. The cyborg gave the slightest of grins towards the Nausicaan on his scarred face and a wink turned to look ahead. "We might be looking for somethin'," he growled in his low, booming voice, "Bybs and I just came from off-asteroid. We're out of a job and both of us are plum broke. I'd be up for anythin' that could give us good food and some latinum. Wouldn't you say, Bybs?" "Can you tell Nel, this is my job interview outfit. Not my work outfit. I spend my last cash on them. And since I have struck out as my friend points out I need the latinum." Byblos told Ned as he pushed the cart. "Yeah...a job would be great! And we have many skills aside from must hauling things around Nel," "Well," Nel said in his thin voice, his small brain turning hard at the possibilities, “what kind of...uh...skills are you guys advertising?" "Depends," the big cyborg replied as he stomped steadily along, looking forward, "on what sort of skills ya'll are lookin' for Mr. Nel. Bybs here can handle a blade like no other and is a pretty crack shot. Not to mention the advantages of his...intimidating appearance. Myself, I have a few years experience as an engineer, something your boss could use I'll bet." Nel smiled to himself as he nodded his head in quick twitchy motions. Things were looking good with these two. "Say, uh, why don't you come with me to the yard talk to Gilmo? He might be able to set something up for both of you guys." Byblos smiled then proceeded to look at Shane with a slight bow of respect. The true Big Guy of Qob, Byblos now thought of Shane. He had decided to follow Shane as a superior, and the urge of the "Alpha Male" as Pher would put it had seemed to recede from him. The gift of the energy blade, though untested was more emotional to him than he had allowed Shane to see. A Nausicaan without a blade was a like a Klingon without honor. Nausicaans had to have a sword, and when he could not manage to forge one himself, the big Cyborg had forged one for him out of his engineering technical expertise. Perhaps it was the forming of a friendship. Time could only tell, for he did not know what could have so severely damaged Shane's physical body; Byblos only knew it had something to do with the Federation. Byblos was pleased not to see any Federation present on Andus. Shane could do his thing, without anger and hate. Byblos still surveyed the scene around them as Nel guided him to his superior. He was unfamiliar with Andus, and the Gular themselves. Sure he was familiar with some of their equipment on Tranquility. Tanks, ships and their relationship with the Guardians. That kept Byblos from being as calm as Shane at the moment. For all he knew this "Gilmo" was one of the individuals tight with the Gular, trying to keep the Guardians on their side as opposed to the Nebulous Taurus Brothers. As Byblos continued to walk by an assortment of Space docks, Ships of all sorts and Cargo along with Gular personnel checking new arrivals and cargo. He realized Shane's engineering abilities were probably going to be the most important assets of their little job search. Their job, of course given by their Boss was to acquire information. Byblos was not a skilled engineer to dig around computers, what he could offer and would offer Shane was a pair of eyes watching his back. Just in case this Gilmo fella was interested in cashing in on some bounty. But something about Nel's behavior suggested the Nausicaan...”Gilmo" was probably another "Samus" with agenda all his own. "Oh well, Nel I'd certainly like to meet Mr. Gilmo. And I certainly need the employment!" Byblos responded to Nel's offer as his eyes continued to look around for undesirable surveillance. Shane and Byblos did stand out walking as giants with little Nel and pushing his Engine...

Chief Engineers Job Summary ---> Zoalus System <<BEGIN AUDIO FEED>> ((a rustling is heard as Shane settles in his seat, his bionic arm giving off a hiss. He clears his throat and begins in his deep growling voice)) "Chief Engineer's Mission Summary, Zoalas System. I'm beginnin' my summary from the time after our second run-in with the Capricorn, shortly after we arrived in system. I was commanded by Capt. Manning to modify one of the Verbistul shuttles for an aquatic incursion to the planet Zoalus 1's surface and proceeded to do so with equipment borrowed from the Verbistul and the Qob. I'd like to note that two force emitters from our inventory were never recovered from the aquatic shuttle. Chocox and the Furball performed well, completin' to modifications according to my specs and without any major mistakes, aside from installin' one of the emitters backwards at one point. No problems were reported to me by the surface team as a testament to this work. They should do fine for future engineerin' work, provided they don't get annoyin'... Once the shuttle headed out, I headed to the Capricorn to assist with repair work accordin' to an agreement made between the Capricorn commander Raj and you, Cap'n. As I understood, Troy Parson was placed in charge by you before we left. I was also ordered to bring along a little insurance in the form of an anti-matter pod set for remote destabilization. On my way off the ship, I passed the Nausicaan's quarters, which had been left open, and saw a container that was surprisin'ly similar to the one that contained the antimatter pod. I thought it might be useful to have a a decoy to the actual bomb, in case the raiders tried to dis-able the bomb behind our backs. So I grabbed it. Once aboard the Capricorn, I contacted the chief engineer in charge, a man named Ford who sent me and Will to supervise hull breach repair. Before I made my way there, Parson pulled me aside and asked me to give him override codes to the Capricorns main computer, to give us an edge. I proceeded to plant the anti-matter pod in a Jeffries Tube panel near the main computer core, when the first sabotage was committed. I used the confusion to access the main core and found that someone already had implemented Parson's idea, instead using a complex takeover virus inside a small pyramidal device, that was Klingon in manufacture. Being familiar with Klingon tech, I copied the program to my tricorder and removed the device. I decided to use the virus instead of override codes, since the former would be more difficult to track and correct. My method was a little more sophisticated, as I used a wireless link from the tricorder that was hidden in the core room. After all this, I took the pyramid back to Troy who showed it to Raj. Later, Kaara Soora and I investigated a murder that was "discovered" by Gotem or whatever the jyke his name was. I suspected him of the murder, as the obvious is usually the truth in such matters, but didn't have the evidence to accuse him. So I continued on alone, as Soora had to help with the autopsy. Around then, I was called with Will to repair the transporter in a hurry from another sabotage attempt. We were successful and found another Klingon device like that of the pyramid. The surface team was recovered and taken to the messhall. I went back to repair work on the hull. It was about 2 hours later that I awoke in an empty set of crew quarters, feelin' the after-effects of a stunbeam. Ford was blaring over the radio about the virus program, accusin' me of every sabotage attempt and demandin' I relinquish the override codes. I was more than a little pissed. And I wasn't about to be used as a bargainin' chip. I broke out by hacking the local security network and blackin' out the lights on the deck, killing a couple of the guards who fired at me when I punched through the door. They had it comin. I met up with Pher, who began throwin' orders around like she knew what was going on and yellin' at me "to talk things out". Now, I know you're fond of her Cap'n, but in my opinion, when I've been attacked, imprisoned and fired upon, all the talkin's over with. Negotiatin' only works to a point and maybe it calms everyone down in Never-New Risa-land, but around here most folk only answer to the biggest fist. At least that's how I've found it. The group of us headed to Main Engineerin' and met up with the Verb reinforcements. At this point, Parson was considered no longer in charge from what I saw, so I hung back as I had been injured in the fight against my imprisoners. We arrived to find Engineerin' flooded with radiation and Ford nearly dead. Turns out he had been turned against us by someone else, presumably our sabotagers from earlier. I was ordered back to the Capricorn by someone, I don't remember who or care really. I figured it was better back on the Qob where we had a definite command structure. Little did I know that our red-eyed friend from the Verb was in on the whole thing. He and I were back in the Engine Room when he blew the computer core and transported to the Capricorn. Turns out he had rigged a single trigger command on every one of the bridge and engineerin' console set to blow an EMP device on the core. I thought he was acting a little strange, but mainly attributed it to him being an idiot like most of the Verb crew and ignored the behavior. Once I had my back turned in trying to deal with the fightin' with the other mercs, he blew the core and transported out before I could rip his head off. I learned my lesson, I guess. As far as what happened otherwise, I think you know. The atmospheric escape from Zoalus and the Capricorn pod rescue went without a hitch, aside from the disasters that caused them. About the computer core. I repaired most of the basic programin' needed for warp travel, impulse and defense systems, but the old thing is unreliable. Plus I've got ghost programs creepin' in everywhere and messin' with stuff; the thing takes constant maintenance. In short, we need a new one. Desperately. I've got a couple ideas on where to get one, but it'll need to be an authentic Klingon core for warships. Freighters and crap won't work. In whole, I think the mission went pretty well, considerin' what we had to deal with. Sure, research wasn't done much, but we did our part and kept the Verb safe. Now the Verb scientists may think it was a failure, but they ain't dead and that's our part. Sure their original plans fell through, but plans are usually the first casualty in any mission. At least that's the way I see it." <<END LOG>>

One of the Capricon crew members asked Tomar to step aside to discuss a matter, leaving the Qob group alone for the moment. Seizing the opportunity, Shane reached into the pockets of his greasy cargo pants and tossed a small object to Troy. The piece was a triangular shape, with a worn green covering and wires hanging from an opening in the side. The big cyborg spoke quietly as to not be overheard, "I grabbed the chance to have full access to the main computer durin' all the rucus and found that. The Capricon system had already been tampered with when I got there." Troy caught the object, looking at it, turning over in his hands. If the Capricorn's computers were already compromised, then any information recorded there relevant to the plasma leak-- or, for that matter, anything else-- could have been falsified. He supposed that was to be expected in a situation like this one; on a starship, where extensive maintenance needs translated into fairly ubiquitous surveillance, any crime worth talking about needed either an escape plan with a very short timetable or a component of electronic subterfuge. This crime was certainly worth talking about. And Troy doubted that the enemy had gone for the short timetable option, not only because of the green pyramid that he now held in his hands, but also because of a shamefully unscientific feeling that there was more hostile action to come. In his head, the former professor made a list. Priority 1: Establish Goals. This much was easily done. Possible goals included: a) Remaining alive, B) Keeping the other members of the party alive, and c) Preventing any further unnecessary deaths. Troy considered a): In the short term, that goal might be best served by getting off the Capricorn and seeing to it that the former Federation ship was reduced to space dust, taking the whole mess on-board with it. But then there was the murder on Verbistul; perhaps the mess had already spread. Besides, in the long term, destroying helpless vessels had a way of coming back to bite you. So a) didn't really say much either way, at least, not enough to make him care. As for B), many of the same considerations applied, and anyway, if his comrades were worth anything, they'd be able to look after themselves. So that left c): preventing any further unnecessary deaths. Troy did the math in his head and concluded that goal c) recommended in favor of finding out who was responsible for the recent plasma leak, so that the threat that they represented could be identified and neutralized. Priority no. 1, accomplished. Priority 2: C&C. Control and contingency. Establish control over the situation, because the more that was going on without their knowledge, the less they could infer from anything they found out. As things were, the members of the QoB party were very much on the outside of whatever was going on, and while they could try to investigate from such a footing, anything they came up with would be little better than guesswork and vulnerable to a million kinds of deception. Troy supposed that some might argue that it would be best not to focus too much on control, to instead work together with the locals in the spirit of friendship (or some other kind of meaningless feel-good nonsense, no doubt to be carried out to a soundtrack of tribal peace chants). But the scientist in him identified any participation by the locals as investigators, rather than as witnesses and/or suspects, to be a source of uncontrolled variables. To be sure, Tomar seemed trustworthy, but seemings weren't worth anything. Knowings were worth something; you could take knowings to the bank. Seemings, on the other hand, could take you to the morgue. Besides, even if he could trust Tomar's character, it was irrelevant, since he knew that he could not trust Tomar's competence. The fact that this situation existed was proof enough of that. Conclusion: for everyone's sake, establish control. At the same time, especially since establishing control was not a sure thing, they had to prepare for the worst. Troy had nothing against optimism, but optimism was a feeling, and he did have something against confusing feelings with reality. If the investigation failed, most likely, the risks to the QoB party would increase; that, in turn, would change the status of considered goals 1a) and 1b). Should everything fall apart around them, Troy wanted to be able to get his people out, and to ensure that the Capricorn could not once again become a threat to QoB and Verbistul. Thankfully, he had had the foresight to have Shane take steps in this direction already, by accessing Capricorn's computer. The next step would be to leverage that access into control. He would need surveillance protocols, for instance, with data-filtering capability so that he could listen in in the right places. That alone, of course, would not catch anyone, but it might yield interesting clues as to who was who on the former Federation ship, as well as being helpful for keeping track of the situation as it evolved. He'd also want a quick and dirty variable lockdown of some kind: not executed yet, of course, but waiting, so that control could be regained quickly in the event of another attack, and, somewhat more subtly, so that he could redirect personnel flows through the ship in ways that enhanced his surveillance capabilities. And, of course, he would need any uncontrolled influences, whether hostile or simply (given the situation) idiotic, purged from the network. Conclusion: return Shane to Capricorn's engineering. Priority 3: Personnel Distribution. He needed his people spread out, so that they could investigate more efficiently. For one, he needed at least one person on Verbistul, to determine the extent to which the problem had spread to that ship. It would make sense to send Kea; the Verb was her ship, after all. On the other hand, Verbistul's crew had been compromised before, so he wanted a QoBite there. Conclusion: send Kea, but also send a low-value QoB member to keep an eye on her. Byblos, perhaps? The large alien's injured condition reduced his value, but on the other hand, he was still fairly intimidating. Conclusion: send Kea now, with no indication that he'd be sending Byblos later. Once he had more control over Capricorn, he could send Byblos to Verbistul, a move that also might be unexpected enough to catch enemy elements on Vebistul by surprise. If Shane and/or William-- perhaps the latter could pull it off under the banner of helping out, while the stronger cyborg did the dirtier work on the computers?-- could get the Cap's transporters back, he might even consider sending Byblos (or rather, a molecularly exact duplicate of Byblos, after the original Byblos was annihilated by the dematerialization process) over via beam. The remaining members of the party would stay on Capricorn and start investigating the old fashioned way: by asking around. Who had been seen working on that plasma conduit? Who stood to gain by the disaster in the cargo bay? In his mind, Troy looked over the list, checking for errors in his reasoning, not seeing any (though, of course, it was always the one you didn't see that did you in). Momentarily satisfied with his plan, he turned to speak to Shane. "I'm not surprised," he told the engineer. "It'd have been rather silly of them to do what they did without computer control, after all. Can you secure Capricorn's computers for us? Make sure whoever did this is locked out, or come as close as you can. And while you're in there, see if you can get us surveillance and lockdown access; I'll have my ODRI put the specifics of the access package on the local cloud. We're going to find who did this, and we're going to stop them." As soon as Shane was on his way, he'd give Kea and the others their respective instructions. And then have a smoke; it'd been too long, thanks to the disaster, and the cravings were starting to get bad... There wasn't much time for Byblos and their was no patience in him at the moment period. The gas he inhaled while running around in the triage center had to be purged from his lungs fast or he'd cease to be of any value to the Boss's crew. The Nausicaan knew knew the only reason why the human called Joe Manning allowed him to join the Qob crew was his species reputation for intimidating and enforcing an employer's will upon others. He'd be of no use in a mobile chair with a respirator system replacing a set of destroyed lungs. Nor would anyone care to provide such a chair anyways. Byblos was broke, and just another expense to the boss. He'd be spaced rather than attended to in the long term. It was just part of the business. Time was of the essence. He needed one of the Doctors to get his Lungs flushed NOW. For if he just saw what the Cyborg had handed Parson, the coolant leak was an act of sabatoge. That meant someone else from the Capricorn needed to be dealt with. And talk of a death on the Vestibul could mean one of Diklyt's men survived Byblos surmised. What a jyking situation! Byblos concluded. With minutes to spare, the Nausciaan staggered to his feet briefly pulling the O2 mask from his face belting out: "Would one of you Kind Young Doctors get me back on my feet again before I am deemed a total jyking loss!!!!! Kerris frowned, turning from Troy to Byblos now, sitting him back down forcibly. How in the world was she supposed to make him better if he refused to take and follow instructions? She made a mental note to never give him medicine to take for more than a day. She ran a hand down her face, then shoved the oxygen mask back onto his face. She dug around in her bag until she found a supplement for cleansing, and worked for a minute onto making it so that she could attach it to his mask. This is what she liked to do. Fiddling around with things and making new things and fixing things. That's what she did at home... had done at home. She makes a twist in the tubing and gives a 'help please' look to Soora. At least she could hold him down long enough for the cleanser to do its work. Usually she would give it almost a half an hour or a full hour, but there was no time for that today. No, she had to increase the concentration and hope that it would be enough. He was relying on her, and Manning was relying on him.... it was a tough position to be in, that's for sure, but at this point, with all the hours they had spent in triage together, she wasn't about to just port him off on Soora for no reason other than she had a few minutes to cure him of that blasted plasma junk. She wasn't even sure exactly what it had done to him, or herself for that matter. She grabbed an extra oxygen tank and started to gradually dilute the cleanser, frowning. What had happened to her? She hadn't had an unwilling change since she was a Youngling. It was certainly an oddity. Has this attack been directed at her? She snorted and shook her head. Even back on her own ship there were few who knew she wasn't human. It was in her record, sure, but she had only to tell command, and no one else. She wasn't sure what to think of it, especially since the change was primarily mental invoked and not anything very physical. That something could get in and make her change to even her half form.... that was scary. She was glad only the kids from Qob had seen. She would have preferred no one, but she rarely had that good of luck. She hooked up the cleanser to Byblos's mask and nodded to Soora. "Just sit," she begged of him, "be careful not to move too much or the poison might get into your muscle tissues..." She sighed. Soora looked back at Kerris and nodded, keeping her face blank with difficulty. While the woman went off to do something with the cleanser, Soora stood behind Byblos, ignoring his stench, and kept her hands firmly on his shoulders. She was prepared to slam the mask back onto his face if she needed to. He might be strong normally, and she wasn't much a match for him in size anyway, but now her body adjusted to the air change and his didn't. It was strange, so she wrote it off to her Vulcan blood and didn't think much more on it. She knew she would have to take over Byblos's care, especially if her thoughts went along the same lines as the others from the Qob, which was highly likely. Kerris would be sent to the Verbistul, and they would be left here to do damage control and investigate here. Or rather, the others would be doing the investigations and she would be left to do some undercover investigating... meaning amongst the wounded and others tending them. Which she didn't altogether mind. She wouldn't mind getting her hands on some computers, but she would let the engineers do that. She eyed the triangle that Troy held, tying to think if she had seen that design still somewhere before. It was likely she had seen them sometime in the Academy or sometime afterwards in her travels. It was going to drive her crazy until she remembered, she knew, and she wouldn't think of much else. If she had reliable access to a computer or had time to pull out her PADD she would, but she didn't. She watched as Kerris attached the cleanser to his mask, and let her eyebrows raise. "Is that diluted enough?" She wondered. "Even for his species... that seems strong." She tried to think through her process and tried to make the proper conclusions. Even with the plasma, which the cleanser was approved for, such a high concentration might be toxic. She took in a deep breath, wondering if the woman's judgement and brain was addled as well. Byblos started to feel the immediate affects of the two Doctors` efforts. Instead of his lungs feeling as if on fire and smoke choking his breathing as they had been, the Nausicaan was beginning to feel his lungs free up and cool down. He glanced up at the two forceful but effective doctors and gave them a thumbs up as he basically allowed the medication to kick in. As a few minutes went by, and events unfolded around him his breathing returned to normal, and any nausea he did have disappeared. Still he was a mess. His own vomit all over himself, no doubt testing Vulcan and..shifter's sense of smell. The Vestibul Doctor who suddenly changed into some sort of reptilian, would have to explain herself later. But for now he was just grateful for the doctor's care in the pathetic state he was. But with his breathing miraculously returning to normal another burning feeling consumed the Nausicaan. Revenge. Byblos was going to make the bastard(s) who put him in such a state pay a price. And he hoped for the opportunity to wield his old blade once more into some pirate Pe`teQ . Shane looked to Troy during the doctors and Byblo’s exchange, “I’ll get on it. I’d show that to Tomar when you get a chance to throw their suspicions of our arses.”

"Maintenance!"boomed Shane's deep voice throughout the two stories of main engineering as hetowered over a cowering Steve, the Verbistulengineer. The big cyborg had the small man cornered against the mainconsole with back to the double doors entrance."That's all you areauthorized to do! If I find that you adjusted one jykin' EPS buffer, I'll ripyer jykin' head off and use it to scrub the latrines! Got that?" Heemphasized his threat with a clamping snap of his massive metal claws. Joewas already through the double doors by the time Shane had gotten around toripping heads off. Unnoticed by both men, he stopped and waited for his chiefengineer to complete his point. "Nice to see you're makin' our guests feelwelcome, Shane," he said, drawing Shane's attention and allowing the cowedVerbistul operative to slip away inshame. "Though I hasten to point out that if any heads go flyin', I'm theone that's got to explain to Captain Maxwell why one of his people is missing.To say nothing of the mess." Thecold gray eyes under the thick brown narrowed as Shane replied, lowering hisvoice to a more respectable level, "Cap'n, I've spent nearly amonth getting this jykin' ship to the condition she's in and to be honest withya, if these white suits mess with anything, Maxwell can go suck on a disruptorcannon fer all I care!" With a loud hiss and groan from hisarm, Shane turned from Joe and stepped over to the equipment locker to grab hisEngineer's Kit which was a slightly larger kit than standard."Besides," he continued, "I still ain't understandin' why yersending me on this Awa...er..fixin' trip when yer gonna need me in case theraiders or other mercs start gettin' ugly. I know these engines," he saidwaving at the long green-glowing warp engines behind him with his whirringbionic, a very slight touch of affection entering his gruff voice, "know'em better than anyone you got." "Maybeso," Joe replied, looking around the engine room. William, he noticed, wasoff to one side and did not appear to have heard Shane's last comment."But then if things turn ugly, I plan to make sure they don't reach thepoint that Qob is taking hits. I'vegot a few cards up my sleeve for that. If it comes to it, you can do a lot moregood helpin' Byblos and the others protect the team. "Now that reminds me,"Joe crossed his arms and looked back at Shane. "How're we doin' for spareantimatter pods?" Thecyborg looked at Manning suspiciously, "We have two extra pods...figurin'on needin' 'em soon?" "Not'needing' as such. I'm hopin' we won't need 'em at all," Joe answered. Hereached inside his vest jacket and pulled out his bourbon flask. "But,just to make sure we've got ... let's say, every contingency covered ... I wantyou to load one of them pods on board the shuttle you'll be taking over to the Capricorn. Just in case the need for itarises." He took a sip from the flask. Shanepondered the idea for a moment, then nodded his head. "I'll get the'appropriate' equipment for it as well," he said turning away from thecaptain and headed for the Engineering equipment closet, suddenly on board withthe idea of going to the Capricorn,"I know what we'll need."<br style="mso-special-character:line-break"><br style="mso-special-character:line-break">

On board the Verbistul, in the small shuttle bay, Shane stood back to take a break from the work of the Qob's engineers. Will and Zaphod were scurrying around the Verbistul's two shuttles, finishing the last few upgrades need to allow the craft to operate underwater. He eyed the Catian for a bit as he grabbed a fusion welder and hurried back into the shuttle. Looks like the furball can hold his own like the Guardian. Good, that green skinned heap o' junk needs a decent engineering team. Less work fer me. Pulling his old tricorder from the holster on his belt, he turned his back to the crew and stretched out his bionic arm with a hiss to lean against the bulkhead. >>ACCESSING LOG FILE<< >>LOG FILE FOUND-ENCRYPTION CODE NEEDED<< >>ENCRYPTION ENTERED...ACCEPTED<< >>CHIEF ENGINEERS LOG<< >>ENTRY 4<< >>BEGIN ENTRY<< "Chief Engineer's log, May 1 2420. We're a couple hours from finishin' the modifications needed to make the Verbistul's shuttlecraft submersible. The process wasn't near as complicated as some were expecting; obviously some of these guys have never heard of a thing called "jerry-riggin." Basically what was needed was to re-enforce both the shields of the craft and their Structural Integrity support systems. We did this by boostin' these system's power reserves by leachin' off of the warp systems. The craft don't have the power for warp, but they'll get the crew down to the planet and through the water provided they're not shot down. We should be able to use a similar entry to what we used for the underwater probe, this time firin' the Qob's disrupters as the shuttles aren't armed. The shuttles will use their shields to withstand the hull stresses of travelin' underwater, but only enough for about 60 kilometers per hour. Once the shuttles have reached the shoreline, they'll power down the shields at standstill. The mods we've made to the SI system should allow the hulls to withstand the pressure up to one hundred feet. The airlocks were simple to create. We sectioned off the back four feet of the shuttle's interior with force field emitters from the Qob's repair reserves. This'll allow the ground crew to step into the sectioned area, put up the force field and open up the back hatch to get wet. We installed pumps directly into the hulls usin' spares from the Qob and others..." At this Shane paused, thinking of the pumps silently stolen from the Verbistul's lavatory system. "...from elsewhere. The pumps will make sure we keep most of the shuttle craft interior dry and allow us to re-use them. That's it for now. >>ENTRY END<< >>LOG FILE STORED<< >>COPY FORWARDED TO JOE MANNING<< Shane snapped shut the tricorder, turned and started back towards the work area. "Checkov," he barked as he grabbed a hypospanner, "I wanted that jyking pump done yesterday!"

With different shades of red flashing off his face, Shane stood towering beside William in front of the main console in Engineering as the overburdened computer of the Qob performed the new diagnostic procedure for the upgraded power grid. Steam arose from the dull, worn metal of Shane's hulking bionic arm as sweat from his brown dreads dripped into the inner workings of the machinery. Reaching up with his right, real hand, he wiped his forehead and shook off the moisture, glancing at the chrono on the big screen. A low, rumbling growl escaped his throat. The heat build-up in Engineering from the radiation shielding around the warp nacelle never helped his normally sour mood and it certainly didn't help that ten problems had already been found in the newly installed lines, not to mention the fact that his new, jyking engineer was fifteen minutes late. The cat would certainly have hell of a welcoming when he got here. William continued to look over the diagnostics as they came in. He couldn’t believe that so many problems kept coming up even after the upgrade. It seemed that no matter what the engineers did the Qob seemed to only stay flying due to overwhelming amounts of spit, tape, and the hope that the laws of physics would stay constant. William could hardly believe sometimes that the Qob was still hanging around. “Where is that new engineer?” Will said to himself. Zaphod walked into engineering. "Sorry I'm late, the doc over on the Vertibule gave me quite a dose of painkiller. I dozed off." He walked up to Shane and William. "Ok, where do ya'll want me to start?" Zaphod looked around the engine room. It looked like a typical B'rel engineering plant. Small and cramped. But, the first thing he noticed on inspection were the upgrades. He laughed to himself as the saw the improvisions that the others had made to the Bird of Prey. Good thing I brought my duct tape. This was going to be fun "What are you laughing at, furball?" growled Shane angrily, as he turned to the newcomer, "Do you think that just because we're a bunch of mercs, that we don't show up for shifts on time? Well I got news for ya! Next time time yer not here five minutes before yer shift, I'm gonna shove my hypospanner so far up yer butt, that you'll be cleanin' EPS taps with yer forehead! We like to think that we're professional here, so you'd better get with the program before we throw you out the jyking airlock!" Shane turned back to his screen without waiting for a response and spoke over his shoulder, "Checkov, take the cat and head to Section D on Level 3. We've got conduit joints 34-41 showing red." He tossed Will a datapad with the mark sections on a diagram, "Figure out what's wrong with 'em." Will caught the pad and looked over it. “Right on it boss.” Will picked up his toolkit and started to walk towards the door. Turning to the furball he said “Come on, let’s get moving.” Zaphod grinned as Shane turned back to his console. "Sure thing boss. I'll set my alarm next time." He grabbed some tools from the equipment locker and put them in his belt. "Ready when you are." He followed William out of the engine room. Zaphod grinned toothily as he followed. 'Yep, really friendly crew mates.' He thought, as he reached the ladder. 'Glad no one swings a dead cat by it's tail anymore.' Zaphod laughed as he stepped on the rung.

<<This begins shortly after Shane arrives back on the Qob and wasn’t originally intended by him to be a personal journal. But as with what happens with people with a lot on their minds, things leak out and therefore, Shane has this log encrypted and hidden pretty well from anyone without major Engineering experience. I hope this will help give a little insight into Shane’s actions and such during gameplay.>> >>ACCESSING LOG FILE<< >>LOG FILE FOUND-ENCRYPTION CODE NEEDED<< >>ENCRYPTION ENTERED...ACCEPTED<< >>CHIEF ENGINEERS LOG<< >>ENTRY 1<< “Chief Engineer’s log, Stardate…uh…oh what the jyke, who cares? This entry is shortly after the raider situation on the science vessel Verbistul, if any time record is needin’ to be kept. I don’t normally keep audio records such as this, but the need has arisen mainly on account of me not rememberin’ what I was up to before being called up to look over the raider’s bomb. Plus I thought it prudent and all to have a record of repairs for any other engineer who might come along if I’m injured or incapacitated. Though, they’d have to be pretty desperate for something, cause this is encrypted with level five coding, similar to what it would be on most military vessels. Anyways… Chekov…or whatever his name is…and I have finished installing an alternative EPS line to the bridge through the neck of the ship. With that in place, I’m feelin’ a bit more confident of the Qob’s combat readiness, as that will have completed most of our EPS upgrades. One of the best way of keeping this bucket of bolts cruisin’ is through redundant power grids, which is what the alternative line is apart of. Sure, it makes the crawl spaces pretty cramped, but I can always send Phil…or Will? Whatever. Point being, we’re nearly done with this particular upgrade and should be finished within a couple of days. The next order of business will be improvin’ the Structural Integrity system. That would be why I had Chekov pick up a lot of force field materials, to replace faulty emittars and get these things repaired. Once we get the SI fields strengthed, Rosy will be able to take the Qob on tighter maneuvers and increase our top warp speed. Right now the whole ship feels like it’s about to rattle apart whenever we pass Warp 6.5. …guess that’s it for now. Shane out.” >>ENTRY END<<

<<Before the raider attack>> Red splashes of light sporadically danced across the bulkhead of the cramped Engineering Lab, bathing the workbench along with Shane in brief bursts glow. Carefully, he continued moving the heating laser along the broken pathways of the EPS tap, keeping his left hand at a steady pace. He was glad that Klingon technology wasn't an exact science, otherwise this type of jerry-rigging would never work. But if he could make the broken pieces work just a few months longer, than he saves the captain money and consequently, saves it for himself. Soora brushed back her hair from her face. It was starting to annoy her, and she would probably ask someone to cut it for her pretty soon. She was on her way to engineering-- ever since coming back on board her thoughts had been preoccupied with thoughts of Shane and the need to speak with him. The captain's words rang in her ears whenever she pictured the man. She knew it wouldn't be any easy conversation, but she welcomed the challenge. Soora opened the door to the Lab, looking about. She took engineering at the Academy, but it didn't really interest her. She looked about, vaguely recognizing equipment, tools and such, and considered delving back in to the science. She quickly pushed the idea away. No, she had more pressing matters. "Shane," she said just loud enough for him to hear her. He was working, and she didn't want to disturb him, but she had no inhibitions on talking while he worked, even helping if needed. "Do you have a moment to spare?" With his back to the door, Shane tensed at the sudden noise, but relaxed slightly when he recognized the voice. The red beam of the heating laser continued with its work after its brief pause and Shane spoke in his low growl with turning or raising his head. "If it’s important. What do ya want?" Soora came closer to the bench, leaning against a table before standing up straight again. "Do you anticipate any problems with the climate once we arrive?" The laser stopped again. "Wouldn't that be a question for Parson?" Shane said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. The cyborg turned to Kaara, "Warm tropical climate, right? Sounds like a vacation to me. Humidity is high, though that won't an issue for the short amount of time we're there. Why are you askin' me?" Soora stayed quiet, studying the cyborg's face. "It will be interesting to see how the crew, the ship and all the equipment handle it is all. I know you don't seem very concerned..." She brushed back her hair again. How annoying. "I didn't want to speak with Parson because... well..." She did a very human move and shrugged. She just wanted an excuse to talk to Shane again. "I haven't really talked to many people yet. And besides... I thought maybe I could be of some help getting the ship where it needs to be to make sure it can withstand the weather." Taken back a little, Shane cocked his head and stared at Kaara for a second. Not many people offered to help with the hard work in Engineering and when they did, they were usually trying to get something from you. Though he had no idea what she would be wanting if she was. "I don't have any patients to operate on down here Doc," he said finally, "so unless you have some technical experience I suggest you move on. I don't want to baby-sit no one." Soora worked to control her facial expressions. He thought her only a doctor, only capable of patching wounds. Though she would admit to anyone that her extent of engineering is nothing compared to something like his, it was still better than most. "I had to take a number of classes in the Academy on Engineering. I know it’s not good enough to be of a lot of use, but I am sure that I can figure it out as best I can, without the need for you to, mm, 'baby-sit' me. Especially if you give me a list of things you wish completed." She stood up a little straighter. "Can I admit some boredom with medical on this ship? Especially when no one comes for, you know, days on end it seems." "Most people," Shane replied, "would consider that a good thing Doc." He considered the Half-Vulcan for several moments, rolling around the idea. Then he reached to the bench beside him with his real hand and tossed a hyperspanner to Kaara. The bionic motioned to a couple of bulky, dirty units at one end of the small work bench, "These SI field emitters need to be cleaned and calibrated. Any Academy graduate should be able to handle that." Shane turned back to his pile of EPS taps and picked up another, looking for stress cracks. After several moments of silence he commented casually without raising his head, "You're awful emotional for a Vulcan." Soora didn't take being bored too kindly. She always wanted to be busy. Being busy took her mind off of things she'd rather not think about. She caught the hyperspanner deftly, looking it over before nodding at his request, moving towards the units and started to get to work. She tapped into that side of her brain and was silent until he spoke again. She took his cue and did not stop in her work."I am not a full Vulcan, but I embrace their culture as my own. It will take years more for me to master my emotions as they do." "Are ya just gonna ditch the human side? Them Vulcans aren't much respected these days, what with the way the civil war started." At this she paused in her work, staring down at the tool and the objects scattered along the workbench. "I have no relatives on my human side, not that I am aware of, anyway. I know I have Vulcan ones, and so I am more readily accepted into their society. While I can be either, if called upon, in an everyday situation I believe I will always be a mix, and always more Vulcan than Human." She shook her head clear and continued her work, trying to ignore the green blood rushing to her cheeks. She had much resentment with the humans back home on Earth, but she didn't say so. She sometimes felt ashamed that she was partly human. "Ha!" Shane laughed, suddenly as he threw a scrapped EPS tap into the scrap pile behind them and looked at Kaara with his eyes still expressionless. "You half-breeds always confuse me," he continued, picking up another piece, "always hating yer own genes. I've spent the better part of my life being what Vulcans strive for." He tapped his metal shoulder with the laser, making a metal clang. "Cold and emotionless. And let me tell ya sister, it ain't worth it." The cyborg looked back down at the tap clamped in between the claws of his bionic, "Guess you’ll never know what you have till you lose it." "It's not about having a void of emotion," she said simply, not looking up from her work. "It's the ability to control them. Every Vulcan has a bounty of emotions, but they know how to control or at least hide them." She sighed and looked over at Shane. "It would be nice to be able to do that sometimes, despite everything." She turned her thoughts from them and again looked at the work he had assigned her. It was... nice to do this sort of thing again.

The gradually building sounds of heavy boots were heard outside of the Captain's ready room, followed by the harsh sliding sound of the doors opening. Shane squeezed his broad shoulders through the doorway and stepped up to Joe's desk, a look of annoyance on his face. He tossed down an old Klingon data pad, which landed with a clatter on the desk. The ready room was a small affair nestled between the Bridge and the Captain's quarters (the room being an extension of the latter more than anything). The desk and a small shelf to the side, which held two bottles of bourbon and assorted souvenirs of memorable jobs past, were the only notable features. Brackets for swords hung emptily on the wall behind the desk and a leash for a pet targ coiled motionlessly beside it. Joe was leaning over the desk poring over a diagram of the Verbistul. Without looking up at pad or visitor, he asked, "Something I can do for you, Shane?" "Yeah," Shane snapped, "there is. You wanna confirm that the thing on that pad is what I think it is? And why the hell I wasn't told we had one?" Joe glanced up at Shane and grabbed the data device. He looked quickly over the scans that were displayed. "I'm no engineer, but this looks an awful lot like a cloaking device ... disguised as a secondary computer core. Well, I'll be. Something like this oughta come in handy." Looking less than surprised, he tossed the pad back across the desk and returned his attention to the ship schematics. "Where did you get yer hands on one?" The cyborg grabbed the PADD back up held it close to his ace, pouring over the scans, "This can't be the original issue, it would have given out years ago. Does it still work?" "It works," Joe answered without looking up from the diagram. "I've no idea if it's the same one that Qob was built with. I just know it was on board when I bought the ship. Obviously, it would not have been concealed originally in any case. Someone was trying to keep it a secret from the Federation, no doubt." Joe looked up then and fixed his gaze on Shane. "Chris, Pher, and Troy are the only other crew who know about it. Word about it's gotten spread around by a few former crew, o' course, but I downplay that as rumor and insist that we can't cloak. I like to keep the knowledge of it limited to as few as possible. If it were to become common knowledge, we'd become targets for every piratin' mercenary in the Head and the Federation would probably make shuttin' us down a priority." Shane replied dismissively, "Secrets I can handle. What I need to know is how much power the jyking thing takes. It's set up with enough EPS conduits to power three disruptor cannons and then some! These," he said, waving the data pad around, "didn't give me squat, as whoever set the device made it indistinguishable from a core in even high level scans. And there are no schematics for it in the records. I hope you're not planning on using it anytime soon, cause I can't finish re-wiring until I know what it needs." While Shane spoke, Joe raised his arm and set up an interface between his ODRI and the data pad. "You'll find that the core frame that surrounds the device parts rather easily ... provided you send it a signal of the exact right frequency. I'm sending you that frequency now. We change it every month or so." The data was quickly encrypted, streamed directly to Shane's data pad, then decrypted at its destination. "You can have a better look at it and perform any maintenance you need to. Then just hit the core frame with the signal again." The data pad was stared down by Shane for a moment before he cleared his throat, "Uh, right. I'll get on that."

Byblos entered main engineering carrying some parts acquired from the Dr. Phantos expedition equipment budget. The Nausicaan did not see the Cyborg at his usual terminal. Could a man that big be in access tube fixing something? "Chief Shane! I have some of the parts you requested from the Phantos equipment fund? Where do you want them?!" Byblos shouted. A clatter came from the green glowing warp core assembly, followed by muttering and grumbling. "Quit yer yelling, ya qoH." griped Shane as he floated out from the confusing mixture of equipment, lying on a hoverpad. "Put 'em in the cargo bay, where else would you keep 'em?" “Geez will you lighten up?” Byblos replied, annoyed. “I am not yelling, if I were I would be making those "Feddie" Ears of yours squeal in pain! Okay Cargo bay.” He grunted as he turned to leave. “Ex-Federation Engineers...crabs.” Four huge claws suddenly clamped down on the back of Byblo's head and the big Nausicaan was shoved forward into the bulkhead by the door with a loud crunch. The breath was knocked out of him as he was thrown onto his back against the hard grated flooring. A shadow fell over Byblos as Shane knelt down and grabbed his collar with his real hand, hauling him up to look eye-to-eye. A fire of anger burned in the cyborg's eyes like no other and he spoke in a low, menacing growl, "Call me a Feddie again and I'll shove yer tusks up yer..." Byblos looked at the Cyborg eye to eye, now was the time. The time of "breaking in" his father had taught him over a decade earlier on another ship. This was going to hurt, actually he was already hurting...but he had to break Shane's grip and more importantly his armored shell inside of him that was clearly evident. "So you like my teeth? Well, allow me to introduce something else about Nausicaans…" Byblos promptly delivered a knee blow to the cyborg human's crotch, quickly adding an uppercut to Shane's jaw as insurance to break Shane's powerful hold. All Byblos could muster against the man called "Shane" was to break the hold after the combination and knock him over on the deck. "So you don't like the lovely Federation, so noted. I don't care for them either. But half this crew has had dealings or careers with them in the past. And you will need their back one of these days…as I will need yours...when the Guardians or Feds come!" The Nausicaan spat blood away from Shane. "The Federation first destroyed my family..my shipmates. Then the Guardian pigs decided that wasn't enough and they killed my brothers one by one on Tranquility! Believe me Shane you are not the only one who has his demons on this ship. You cannot allow them to win!" Now it was Shane's move and the Nausicaan was either going to get killed now, or finally get to know this individual whom for some reason he did not understand fully yet admired. The Nausicaan extended his hand offer help to get Shane off to deck, "Share your pain with me brother..." The big cyborg stared at Byblos and the fury in his eyes started to dissipate slightly. But then resolve seemed to take over and the anger was replaced with cold, expressionless stone. He pushed himself up to one knee with his organic hand and swung up upwards with his bionic. The full, weighted power of the metal arm caught the Nausicaan across the chest, throwing him up off his feet and sending him flying across the Engine Room. Byblos hit the bulkhead with a grunt and landed in a heap on the floor. Shane stared him down without emotion and spoke as such, the anger buried once more. "Pain is the only thing I've got left. No one will take that from me." Byblos took the hardest blow he ever had taken in his life. His father told him what the consequences "breaking in" could be. Now the risk his Captain had told him had manifested itself. The Nausicaan was sitting against the bulkhead after painfully straightening himself out. Oddly enough...he thought he was just flying through the air for a moment. Like a... Byblos started laughing with a few coughs of blood. Shane cocked his head slightly, confused. The Nausicaan looked up at him, "Hah! So that's what that Guardian felt like when you chucked him across the spaceport on Tranquility…” he coughed up more blood and began laughing uncontrollably. “You sure you didn't inflict pain on his sorry ass?” "Ahh...Nausica, first time I had my ass kicked by a human just now…errr…physically." More blood coughed up with a tooth," I yield." Byblos started to laugh again then quieted. " Listen, though I’m sorry to bring something up you weren't ready to talk about, I cannot be sorry for the happy memories of Guardians getting tossed like targs...or getting clotheslined to the underworld…you have brought me. For that I will always be in your debt...demon chucker! Hah!" “Listen, help me get myself up here and let's get this deck cleaned. If the Boss finds about this, he will be pissed and turn our collective rears in. I'll take your gear to the Cargo Bay and,” Byblos chuckled again, “assuming I make it down there. Lesson learned.“ Shane wasn’t too sure of what to make of the laughing man. Finally, he shook his head as he walked over to help Byblos up, mumbling under his breath. "You Nausicaans are all nuts..."

Shane awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open and looking about. He was lying on the cold, hard grating of the top level flooring, looking down the small, empty passageway. A throbbing pain pulsed on the back of his head and with a groan, he pushed himself up to his knees in the confined space. Slowly, he recalled his steps that had led him to this and remembered being on his way to check a EPS conduit, when he saw a flash of white. The next thing he knew...suddenly, he noticed a ceiling panel lying a couple of meters in front of him and realization dawned along with a flood of anger. This jyking, pe'taQ ship was out to get him! With a growl, he grabbed the panel with his whirring bionic and shoved it back into it's place above him. The cyborg stood up the rest of the way, though still having to bend over in the cramped access corridor and continued onward. His fingers felt the back of his head, checking the size of the bump from the rogue ceiling panel. The other crew members couldn't find out about this, he would never live it down. Counting the Klingon figures labeling the panel that lined the corridor, Shane quickly found the conduit he was searching for. With his organic hand, he carefully removed the panel, set it down and brought out his tricorder while attempting to avoid rubbing his bionic against the live conduit. He didn't need another unintentional nap at the moment. The tricorder beeped as it it finished it's diagnostic, causing Shane to shake his head in annoyance. This section of EPS conduit was corroded and out of sync, just like every other piece of equipment on this flying deathtrap. Carefully, he began tapping on the flow controls next to the plasma conduit, working with the power levels to bring the line to its maximum efficiency. Improving the EPS power grid had become Shane's first goal as his new role as Chief Engineer. That included repairing or replacing already existing EPS conduits, taps, plasma manifolds and coolant ducts along with installing new lines where needed. With a fully-functional power grid, it would be easier to reroute power past damaged lines and consequently, the Qob would become much more reliable...or at least easier to keep running when in tight situations. With the state the Qob was in right now, one lucky shot or even a rough jolt could sever power to half the ship. Shane figured that with the right supplies, William and he could get the project finished within a months time provided they didn't sleep much. With the EPS grid improved, Shane could begin work on updating and improving the Structural Integrity System, something the Qob was desperate for. With her age, the ship couldn't rely as much on the rugged Klingon build of her frame, though that was most likely what had kept her going for so long. What would be the most acceptable would be a reliable, over-competent SI system to keep her from flying apart at the seams. Higher warp speeds wouldn't need to be such a gamble at that point. With a sigh, Shane holstered his tricorder and replaced the panel over the EPS conduit. That was as good as it was going to get without new materials. He'd better go check on the engine diagnostics that had been started earlier, to make sure they hadn't been tampered with. He still wasn't sure of how nosy the crew was at this point. With difficulty, he turned in the crammed space, scrapping his metal arm against the corridor's bulkheads and stomped his way out. As soon as the hatch closed behind the big cyborg, a ceiling panel crashed to the floor.

Found a site for Klingon cursing. Could be useful for anyone wanting to add some color to their talk in the logs. http://www.datapacrat.com/Art/Fiction/STAR...ING/INSULTS.HTM

The hour was late and the bar had gotten quieter. Most of the Qob crew members had either already left or were passed out in different places in the room. Few noticed the heavy steps or hiss and whirring of Shane as he walked up to the the entrance of Pete's place, entering through the swinging doors. Those who did looked away, as his attitude was worse than normal. The cyborg looked like he had been through a speeder wreck with his nose and lip bleeding. He sported a nice shiner on his left eye and his green A-shirt was torn in several place. He reached out with a bruised and cut arm to grab a drink from a passed out patron and walked towards the middle of the room. "You're late," Joe looked up from his glass, almost empty of the last bourbon that had been left in the bottle. He'd planned to finish the glass and head upstairs to his room for the night, perhaps to salvage some of the good feelings that a positive job outcome had left him enjoying. His current mood, as it often was when he got to heavy drinking, was no better than Shane's. "You can blame..." growled Shane as he sat heavily in a chair across from Joe and propped his boots on the table,"the local Klingon thugs. Some biker gang thought it clever to take my bionic as a trophy." He took a swig of the random drink he had stolen and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking the bottle over with approval. "So what was this meeting all about and why is it so baktag important?" "Funny how no one else had trouble getting here on time. Almost like trouble has a way of singling you out and following you around." Joe finished off the glass of bourbon and briefly considered ordering another bottle. He'd already put himself in for a rough morning. "But then, you haven't been hired just yet, so you have an even better excuse, I suppose. If you're not too big on making impressions, that is." The cyborg stared at the other man with his usual stony expression for a moment before replying. "I've never cared about 'making impressions' too much. You hire me for job, I get it done. One way or another. If you aren't pleased with my time-of-arrival, then I'll kill the Klingons faster next time. Besides," he said before pausing to take another drink and look about the room, "I don't see why you'd be so irked about impressions. I still haven't been paid for the whole Minos operation." "The Minos operation that Pher has good reason to think you did more to hinder than to help." Joe reached into the front pocket of his vest and retrieved a small datapad. "I been sitting here on a note that tells me my chief engineer is leaving the crew. Giving what a fine job you did getting the ship up and running nice and fast, and how Pher managed to dig up some decent engineering credentials in your background, I've been tossing around the idea of putting you in charge of my engine room. But see, the thing is, when I put people on -my- crew, I expect them to be willing to do a job -my- way, not 'one way or another.' "Now I've got a prostitute who don't care for guns running security and a guy who's got head issues I don't want to try to delve into who's sure he's smarter than everyone else running my science team. They've got their own ways of doing things, and I give them plenty of leeway to do things their own way. But I know that either one of them is willing to do things my way, without any variation or interpretation, if I make it clear how I want it. I'm not entirely sure I'd get the same from you, Shane. "So I guess I'm irked because I need some kind of assurance from you if I'm going to trust you with my engines. Now that the two of us are here alone, no Guardians listening in, no Pher looking over us, why don't you tell me what you did to Minos?" "I repaid an old debt," Shane said with quiet satisfaction, "one owed to me for quite some time. Something you can relate to, from what I've seen. A certain Duke Redding is now under your thumb if I'm not mistaken, for betrayal ending in the death of half your crew." Shane looked back to Joe and spoke without emotion, "Revenge is satisfying, ain't it?" "But I'm no fool. Immediately jeopardizing the package would have been counter-productive for me as well as you. Mr. Simon is "safe" for at least six more days and by that time the Qob will be long gone. If anything should happen to him, I'm sure his own organization will come under question. From what I've seen in my previous dealings with them, the Rainmakers have never been known for their sense of internal loyalty. In fact, I'm sure we wouldn't have had any more problems from the Guardians if the green-skin hadn't run her mouth off to Savoy without first consulting you in this matter. Even still, the Guardians don't have grounds to blame us other than the Orion's suspicions. And I'm sure you can downplay them easily enough." Joe leaned across the table and pointed a finger at Shane. "'That green-skin' has been on my crew for two years. She knows a hell of a lot better than you do how my crew should operate. She was protecting an operation that I set up, an operation that your little surprise could have ruined." Joe stood up and dropped two strips of latinum into his empty glass. "You say Simon's got six days? I'm giving you one. I want full details about whatever gadget you used on him, and then I'll decide, not you, what gets shared and what gets downplayed. Consider this your chance to earn my trust and prove your loyalty. If that ain't your sort of thing, you can look for a job with the Rainmakers or maybe one of the biker gangs." Joe circled around the table and headed toward the upper story stairwell. He stopped to look back at Shane. "Oh ... keep in mind, if you ain't on my ship when we take off ... I'll turn your ass in to the Guardians." Shane looked at the captain, silent and contemplating. Then he slowly stood and took the tricorder from its holster with the claw of his bionic, flipping it open to tap a few buttons. An isolinear chip slid out the top, which Shane took and tossed it to Joe. "There's your loyalty." He turned and walked towards the doors, "I'll have the Qob ready by dawn."

The bionic arm landed on the work bench of the Engineering Lab with a bang after Shane heaved it up with his real hand. He opened a toolkit and preceded to remove the damged hose from its connection ports. The work was slow going with one hand, but Shane had learned to manage over the years. One couldn't always rely on others to help, especially in his previous line of work. The cyborg's thoughts once again wandered to Simon, the famous Minos that everyone had feared. A small sense of satisfaction warmed in the cold-hearted man. For years he had wished for an opportunity for revenge. Revenge for wrongs against former comrades. Against himself. The Orion and Manning had provided the ideal opportunity for fulfillment by putting Shane on the same ship as Minos. Pher had even gone to the point of knocking him out cold on the bridge. Shane picked up a piece of hosing that he had found and sterilized in Engineering. The former chief had kept the place well organized, making the process of locating the standard size relatively easy. He slide one end into the port, feeling it seal, then attached the other. A slight hiss was heard as the air in the tube escaped and the blood circulation began to flow. He flexed the piece of machinery slowly, testing the connections. Pher more than likely suspected him. Shane wouldn't be surprised if she had already contacted the Guardians with a warning. But he wasn't worried. Any video data that the security systems recorded wouldn't reveal much as he had only touched Simon when checking his pulse. With all the scraps and bruises on the small man, the Guardian medics would be hard pressed to locate the millimeter sized slit on Simon's neck, where Shane's device had entered. According to the pre-set timeline, the nano-device had already maneuvered it's way through Simon's bloodstream and settled behind his forehead, where human males have a concentrated iron deposit. That combined with an unique coating would make it unnoticeable to any grade of sensors the Guardians would use. In a weeks time, the device would release an alkaloid-based poison and cause an almost instantaneous death. By then, the Qob will be gone and hard to suspect. Using a damp rag, the cyborg began rubbing some of the dried blood from the metal. The past several days had turned out well. He was still breathing, his arm was repaired, he had a potential job and one more name had been crossed off a long list. They had gone very well indeed.

The noise of the engines in the Qob's cramped engineering room continued to climb higher and higher until it the roar consumed all other sounds, from the pings of gunfire on the outer hull to the sounds of Shane's heavy breathing. The big cyborg was sitting with his back leaned against a bulkhead, his robotic arm laying immobile and useless at his side. The color of his face was a sickly pale, his usually stony expression now turned to a drowsy, almost delirious state. His eye's moved down to the sliced hosing on his bionic, still dripping blood from the worn auto-shutoff seals. The seals had turned on in time to keep the big man from bleeding out completely, but not in time from to keep him from losing a significant amount. A feeling of annoyance came across him as he glanced about engineering. Red covered the floor, dripping from the control panel he had been working on, staining his shirt and pants. It looks like a freakin' war zone in here. Gonna be a heckuva mess to clean up. Sometimes Shane questioned the wisdom of rebuilding the arm to operate on organic fluids, but it had its perks. He didn't have to worry about finding power to recharge it all the time, giving him much more flexibility. But it obviously had it's disadvantages as well. Especially when he didn't have enough fluid for both his hearts to pump efficiently. The room started to spin a little. "Whelp," Shane mumbled as he stood uneasily, steadying himself on some railing with his good hand, "time to find that blasted doctor." Slowly, he started to make his way out of engineering.

Shane stood in the holo-room, staring at his father Dayson with confusion as the older man paused.”What,” he finally asked, “do you mean by all this, Dad? Are you saying that the Tal Shiar did this to us?” Dayson snapped back from his distant recollection, his eyes flashing with anger at the array of stars across the room. “No,” he replied quietly, “it wasn’t. After my agreement, I received instructions to make my way to a civilian ship docked at the medical facility. There I underwent a procedure that was…painful, but worked. We bought the salvage and disposal yard as instructed and lived a normal life, raising you and your brothers. Years went by before I heard from the Romulans. “I had almost forgotten them until, a week before our disappearances; I received an anonymous message with a ship offer. It was an aging freighter in disrepair with a cargo of triceron aboard. The message described the offer as usual, but read at the bottom in small letters, “I’m glad you survived.” The freighter carried the name Owed Favor.” “I surprisingly wasn’t all that shocked. All those years, in the back of my mind, I knew the Tal Shiar would appear again. I guess that was what made my decision of how to respond. Deep down, I felt I had been living a lie, always afraid of discovery. I was tired of it. So I contact my former captain, now an admiral and arranged to meet him out of system. That was when it happened. They…” Dayson choked as the tears began to stream again, his eyes filling with pain as he faced his son. “They killed her Shane. They killed…everyone. The freighter was delivered to the yard without my knowing, while I was two days away. Starfleet Intelligence found out and staged a raid on the station. Kaylie…she was vaporized as soon as they burst through the airlock. They didn’t ask questions or anything! They just murdered her outright.” The older Tayjer turned, unable to face his son with his guilt heavy on his heart. He spoke more to himself than too Shane, “She’s dead…because of me. Because I was too cowardly to face my fate. Because I was willing to forgo my duty to save my own life. Kaylie…and everyone on the station paid for my transgressions.” Shane’s expression was numb with shock as his father fell silent. Slowly, he sank down to the black, featureless floor, sitting and staring distantly off into the artificial starfield. “Mom’s dead,” he whispered quietly, “just…gone.” The two sat and stood in their silent grief for several long moments, one overcome with sudden loss and the other filled with regret. Dayson Tayjer turned to look at his son, the pride and love he felt for him stirring through the grief inside him. “Shane,” he said at last, his features reflecting the same burdened sadness he had felt before his son had found him, “if you never grant me forgiveness for what I have caused…it will be justified. But that’s not what I’m looking for. I had to tell…someone the truth about what happened, about what I have done. This secret has burned in me for the latter part of my life…I couldn’t carry this to my grave. I can’t repair the damage I have caused to the lives of the innocent, to your mother. But I can set my relationship right with you. That’s the only thing that has kept me going. I wanted you to know who I truly was.” Shane starred silently forward, his cheeks drying from fallen tears. Part of him burned with anger what had happened to his mother, at his father for his selfishness long ago. But it was over-shadowed by the love and respect he had for his father, despite his mistakes. Shane stood and gripped Dayson’s hand, looking him straight in the eye. “I love you Dad,” he said with conviction, “and I’m still proud to be your son. That will never change.” Dayson smiled sadly. “Thank you.” he said softly. Shane returned the smile and turned to leave, “Come on. We have to figure some way to get yo “No,” Dayson said, a look of sad determination on his face, “we’re not.” Shane looked back to his father, confused. Dayson continued, “It’s time that I paid the consequences of my actions. I’ve run from them my entire life and look at what it has cost us.” “What if Starfleet responds the same as they did at the station?” Shane asked, but knowing too well the answer. He could see that his father’s mind was set. Dayson shook his head slowly, “Between the Tal Shiar and Star Intelligence, I’ve been expecting death for quite some time now. In fact, I’m surprised I’ve made it this far. But...I’m glad that I did.” A beeping noise was heard and Dayson pulled a device out of his coat pocket. “My shuttle has been compensated” he said after reading its message. “Looks as if my time has run out.” Dayson looked back up at his son, pride filling his eyes and embraced him. “Goodbye son…and thank you.” Shane couldn’t reply, the pain of losing another parent too much for him. He could only return the embrace as hot tears burned at his eyes. Then Shane Tayjer did the hardest thing in his life. He watched his father walk out of room. He only watched. Earth, several days later The bright Texas sunlight shown down on the red canyon walls, creating a brilliant scene that stretched for miles in every direction. Near the edge of a cliff, a group of people were dispersing from a grey stone monument. Shane stood with his hands held behind his back, staring at the inscription: In memory of Dayson and Kaylie Tayjer Loving father and mother We shall remember you always Shane’s uncle, Todd Tayjer, walked up beside him, looking out across the canyon. “Shane,” he said,”I know it was hard to let go. It was hard for all of us. But I think its best that we’ve found peace. When you contacted us with news about them being found in wreckage, I was almost glad to finally know the truth.” He paused for little, looking back to the stone etching. “Your father, my brother…he was a good man.” Shane continued to stare at the monument for a moment before answering quietly, “Yes, he was.” The two stared at the memorial for a time, lost in the memories of those passed. Todd finally turned and patted Shane on the shoulder as he left, saying,”Keep in touch.” Shane stood alone for a little longer, before tapping his comm. “Computer,” he said, “End transmission.” The canyon and stone monument disappeared to show the black and yellow grid of a holo-deck. Shane stood watching where the memorial had been, his face expressionless. He then turned and walked out.

The bright rays of afternoon light shown through the tall picture windows of the starport’s main boarding room, causing Shane to shield his eyes with his sole organic hand. The huge room bustled with hundreds of beings scurrying in and out of corridors leading to various shuttles and passenger ships. Tayjer stepped into the crowds, moving away from the transporter rooms and wandered what to do next. The message he had received yesterday onboard the Reaent had said to come to the starport, but beyond that had provided no other instruction. Without a doubt, Shane would be easy to spot with his Starfleet uniform and gleaming metal appendage. But even still, there were several million people in the port city making it almost impossible… Suddenly someone in the crowd shoved into his right shoulder, almost causing him to lose his balance despite his large frame. He turned quickly to give the person a piece of his mind, but noticed a white piece of paper in the silver fingers of his hand. Unraveling the scrap, it simply showed directions to a local observatory. It seemed that the problem of locating his father was solved. The Starfleet officer was able to locate the observatory in less than twenty minutes. It was a quiet-looking building off of a semi-busy street and seemed to be a place more frequented by school classrooms than anything. Several young space enthusiasts gathered in the various miniature holo-decks to argue the fine-points of their craft as Shane walked down the darkened hallway towards the end room. Shane stepped into the dark room littered with the specks of star systems and the brilliant colors of various nebulas, to find a sole occupant with his back to the door. The man was in civilian clothing with slightly graying hair and was staring at a miniature version of the Sol System. Shane cautiously stepped forward, his mind fearful of disappointment, “Dad?” The man slowly turned to look at him. “Shane,” said Dayson Tayjer as he stepped forward and embraced his son, “I’m glad you came.” “Glad I came?”replied Shane, almost overwhelmed with the joy of finding his father alive, “Why would I not? We’ve been worried sick since what happen at the station! Some of us had almost given up hope. What happened to you and…” A realization suddenly hit Shane and he looked about the holo-room in growing dismay. “Dad,” he said slowly, “Where’s Mom?” A haunted look overcame Dayson’s face and he turned back to the stars shining around them, a tear running down his cheek. He was quiet for several moments as if gathering himself to speak. Shane looked at closer at his father’s features in the pale light. He looked much older than Shane ever remembered and his demeanor was that of a person in great sorrow, under a burden of sadness that no one should ever have to bear. Dayson’s eyes became distant as he remembered events from his life. He slowly began, his voice sounding hollow, “Almost a year before you were born, your mother and I were just happily married, living aboard an exploration vessel in Starfleet. During an away mission, I contracted an alien disease, one that the medical staff could not find a cure for. It was non-contagious, but incredibly painful and deadly. The doctors gave me three months to live. I was given medical leave and was sent to a medical center to live out the rest of my days in comfort. Your mother was allowed to come with me and we settled down to await my death. During this time I was approached by what I later found to be a Romulan agent of the Tal Shiar and was given an offer. He could give me a genetic enhancement to my immune system that would allow my body to overcome the disease that was killing it. In exchange, all I had to do was to leave Starfleet and acquire a spacecraft scrap yard that was going up for sale. I wrestled with the decision for several days. I knew that there had to be a reason behind the Romulan’s reasons, but I couldn’t see what they possibly could be. And I wanted to live! I didn’t want to leave my wife alone after being married for only a few months. I wanted to raise a family and grow old to live life to the fullest. So…I accepted.”

Chief engineer Tayjer leaned back in the chair of his small office, rubbing his temples in an attempt to calm his throbbing head. The pain persisted, as though enjoying the annoyance that the headache gave him. He knew why he had it. Shane just didn’t want to admit it. The young officer had been pushing himself too hard, involving himself into every little thing he could get his hands on. From the responsibilities of his position aboard the Reaent to the projects he was a part of, such as bartender “Beaker” that was being built and the umpteenth number of holo-novels he had started, Shane was running at full steam. All in an attempt to forget what was threatening to break him down from the inside. But it was futile. It had been several months since the destruction of his home, the murder of his father’s employees and his parent’s sudden disappearance. Shane had felt utterly useless during that time, wanting to go search for his family, but having nowhere to start. His uncle and brothers on Earth had remained in close contact with him as Starfleet had begun an investigation only to end it with vague explanations as to the identity of the suspects. By the time the Tayjers had found cooperative private investigator the trail had long gone cold, leaving the remaining family with nothing to hope for. Shane had hoped that the incident would grow easier to deal with over time. But he was wrong. Every time he stopped to take a breather, to rest, the gut-wrenching worries, the dread of never knowing would surface in his mind. He wouldn’t even think of sleeping until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open, literally collapsing on his bed. At times he even wished that the bodies would be found to put an end to the whole ordeal and give him peace. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Tayjer stood up from his desk and started to exit the room. A beep indicating a communications chime stopped him. Tapping his comm, he replied, “Tayjer here.” “Sir, this is Ensign Faite from Operations. A private message has come from in system, exact origin unlabeled.” Puzzled, Shane frown. “Alright, patch it through.” “Actually sir, it appears to be text only. Shall I send it to your office?” “That’ll be fine. Tayjer out.” Curiosity overtaking him, Shane crossed the room back to his desk and tapped on the blinking message icon. His eyes widened as he read the text and he slowly sank back into his chair in astonishment. The message read: “Urgent. Meet at main planet spaceport. Come quickly, son.”

Simon turned back to Troy, having not moved from his place behind the desk. "My organization has a great deal of information, Doctor Parson. On whether we have the information you seek, you will simply have to trust me. Is there much downside to letting this opportunity go?" "No," spoke Shane suddenly in his low, deep voice, "there's not." The big cyborg stepped up from the back of the group and starred down Simon, the servos and gears in his massive arm whirring as he moved. "The captain will be easy to take care of once we're aboard the ship. He'll have the parts we need with him and he'll be trapped within the confines of his own ship. But before we make any bargains, what I want to know is why? You got something against Manning?" Simon allowed his bespectacled gaze to turn to Shane for the first time, though he'd been aware of the cybernetically enhanced giant from the moment he and his companions entered the utility tunnel underneath the Quantum Trinities office complex. An interesting factor in the equation, this one, he thought. "I was wondering when we would hear from you ... Mr. Tayjer. Of all our assembled guests, your past may in fact be the most interesting." Shane's eyes narrowed at the sound of the name "Tayjer". It was as he suspected; the man knew of at least a portion of his personal history. Too much. He remained silent as Simon continued. "To answer your questions and alleviate your suspicions ... no, Manning is of little concern to me. I bear him no grudge nor do we have any shared history. But he holds many ideals which do not agree with those of the Rainmakers. Further, I fear that he would ultimately put a price on his assistance that we simply cannot afford to pay -- knowledge of the whereabouts of his missing child. I fear that for all his bluster about evading the authorities and getting paid, that is his only real concern -- a piece of information that we do not possess." "I see in you in similar case, Mr. Tayjer. You have made little secret of your disdain for the Federation. That is your only true ideal, perhaps? I wonder if that ideal is strong enough to get in the way of suitable payment for your cooperation. But unlike Manning, you have me at a loss -- I am unsure what price would move you. Your enemies are too numerous to pinpoint. Your happier past cannot be recalled by any means at our disposal. Is it money that moves you? A ship and a crew? Or ... perhaps you wish to be concealed? What is it that you want, Mr. Tayjer?" The big man silently considered Simon a moment. He had dealt with men like this before and knew how the game was played. If you couldn't buy someone off, then you eliminate them and leave no loose ends. That's what was happening to Manning and what might happen to him if he didn't play his cards right. "Keep yer mouth shut about my past." he said finally, "Pay me the standard professional fee for the killin' on top of that and you can consider yer job as good as done."

After the visitors had left, Shane entered the hotel room and shut the door behind him with a bang. Watching with disinterest as Dash treated Chris, he stood next to his chief at the edge of the room. With a low growl, he spoke to Pher, "I don't like the look of them." "Hopefully," she responded, "they didn't like the look of you, either." She looked him up and down again, unable to interpret the massive arm as anything but an obvious statement. This guy had to have anger issues. Pher responded with her usual ploy, the opposite ploy, inviting him to see her as the stereotype oversexed animal woman, and therefore not dangerous at all. "In this business, I'm used to being just about the only person anyone likes the look of." She paused, briefly. "But it's to be expected. Anyone who wants off this dry rock, and wants off it now, is going to be desperate enough to take some big risks. They're going to be trouble and in trouble. Whatever passengers we pick off are going to bear watching. You have anything specific you picked up, or any tricks that might help?" "Yeah," Shane said, "I'd like to know how in the heck they found us. You rented this room all by your lonesome, without connections to Qob or Manning. Yet they somehow were able to find our hotel and our exact room number, knowing we were crewed aboard a vessel. This was all done without asking some of the hotel staff in the lobby, were I've been during your entire 'procedure'." "Well, that I can clear up, at least. The Captain has a plan. A cunning plan." Pher's eyes smiled a bit. "Too cunning, perhaps, but sometimes you have to be cunning. Before we met up with you, several of us were spreading rumors that we were planning to make a late night run. We were trying to attract certain people. These weren't quite the right people, but that's what happens when you try to be cunning. The big cyborg was silent for a moment as he considered what he had just heard. Then his eyes widened slightly as a realization dawned on him. Shane looked at the Orion with suspicion in his eyes, "Were you trying to get Minos on the Qob?" "Me? No. I'm just some innocent but green morale officer. The captain? The Guardians? Well, yes. They had such ideas. Whether these ideas are still in play or not, we'll have to see. The problem with cunning plans is that they never seem to hold still."

<<continued from last week's sim...>> "I have to face the fact that my family has disappeared and I'm the only one that wants to keep looking for them," Shane said in a frustrated tone as he sat in a chair across the way from the Reaent's counselor, Caroline, where he had been for the last half-hour. He had been struggling with what to do, what to even think with his families mysterious disappearance. Having walked by Caroline's office as he had many times before, Shane had given in to his need to talk to someone about the whole incident and now he felt like he couldn't stop hardly long enough to breathe. He must be more of a mess than he had thought. "Starfleet may consider them to be lost and gone, but I can't just give up. I just...can't." "Nor should you," Caroline responded, keeping her eyes on Shane's frustrated gaze with an understanding expression. "Hope is a powerful thing...and I have to imagine that the message you feel you're hearing from Starfleet is one that it's hard to hold up hope against. The fact that you are still adamant about this shows that you have not given up hope, and that is admirable." She paused. These were the most difficult types of conversations; she certainly couldn't bring his family back to him, she could only attempt to make the situation more...comprehensible, something he could deal with and choose his own reaction to. "What do you want to do?" she asked neutrally after a moment's silence, watching his expression carefully. The question was a calculated one -- both of them knew that Starfleet's authority trumped their own, and that his options were limited, but talking out what he expected or desired out of the situation could be therapeutic, or open up new avenues of discussion. "I want to go back to the Sol System and continue my own investigation. Shortly before Wade and I had to evacuate the station, we found the sensor readouts of a strange ship that neither of us could identify. The ship had apparently arrived and left several hours before we arrived. I believe that craft is the key to finding out what happened. I asked for the data that Starfleet found in its investigation of the station's remains, but they refused saying it was classified and have the area of the crime under guard." Shane sat back in the chair, his shoulders, artificial and real, sagging while his face went from a frustrated, angry look to one that was grim and dejected. "I feel like my hands are tied." Caroline pursed her lips slightly. She was no expert in Starfleet's methods of intelligence gathering and certainly not in the sort of event Shane was talking about, so it was hard to decide exactly how to respond to this. She could, however, tell that the engineer was feeling pulled in far too many directions, and guilty for considering all of them important. "The fact that the information is classified shows that Starfleet considers it important," she said slowly after a moment's pause. "Have you considered the idea that it may be your safety they are concerned for by telling you to avoid pursuing the issue?" Shane was silent. He hadn't thought of that before. If there was someone within the Federation that was involved in the disappearance like he suspected, that didn't necessarily mean that everyone in Starfleet was involved. But that still left with him with the question: What do I do now? "So what would be the best course of action? Just wait?" He said the last question a little distaste. Caroline smiled. "That's not something I can decide for you -- but it sounds as if this is a situation which demands...discretion at best. You are hurt, worried...scared perhaps...and loss or injury of a parent is a very hard thing, no matter what the circumstances, and yours are worse than most, because you don't really know what happened. I feel for you in that -- if you did not feel it strongly, I would be highly concerned." She paused, then went on carefully, "However...it is easy to get swept up in that, and to act with your heart rather than your head. If it *is* your safety they are concerned for...then it seems to me you should be very sure that you are acting according to what makes sense to you, and not just...the heat of the moment." She paused slightly then looked him in the eye, seeing the frustration and distaste there. "I can't honestly recommend you disobey Starfleet's directives, no matter how much personal relief you might feel it will bring you -- especially in a matter that might affect your safety, or someone else's. But more than anything, I would advise you to wait, yes, until you are sure of what you want to do." Looking at the floor, Shane considered her words for a few moments, and then slowly began to nod his head. "You're right," He said, looking back at Caroline, "I've been letting my anger of what happened and my fear for my family's safety influence my thoughts to the point to where I'm considering irrational actions. I could be making the situation worse if I keep thinking this way. So...yeah, I think I'll wait." Caroline nodded, somewhat impressed with the composure with which the distressed young man addressed himself to her advice and his decision. Her confidence in him heightened accordingly; he would make a choice eventually, and perhaps it would not be the one she recommended, but at least it would be a considered one. "Alright," she said gently. "And for what it's worth, Shane, I'm very sorry for what you've been put through. Whatever else you'd like to talk about, I'm entirely at your disposal." Standing up, Shane shook his head, "No, I think that's it. For now anyways, though I appreciate the opportunity to talk to you about these things. It's a...relief to be able to make a decision, whether it's the right one or not. I just hope that it is."