Savros

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the debris laden capital of Qo'noS, two Klingon guards, posted at the entrance to the building housing the High Council, waited their fate. It had been several hours since General Lorgh had come and gone. He took with him any chance for a peaceful resolution. Outside the darkness was thick and uninviting. Warriors moved into position awaiting the command to begin. Suddenly a single light emanated from a discharging disruptor on the roof struck a position on the ground. The rebel fell backward from his advancing position and his comrades returned fire. The defenders had taken first blood. Behind cover, Captain Kor and a few loyalist troops surveyed the rebel warriors guarding the communications array. The irony was not lost on him. Twenty-seven years prior, Captain Kirk had conducted guerrilla warfare against him on the Planet Organia. Kor always thought it unfortunate that the Organians interceded. He would have executed Captain Kirk and ended his illustrious career. It would have been a glorious day for the Empire. "HoD, I do not see how we will be able to take them. They have us 10-to-one." Kor smiled. He had a long history of war and was well known in the Empire. His only regret would be not having avenged the death of his son to the Albino. "Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam <It is a good day to die>," he mouthed. Picking up his disruptor he considered his options. A frontal assault would likely get everyone killed and they would be no closer to the objective. Though it would be an honorable death, there would be no glory in it. No, he had something else in mind. Ten minutes later, two warriors began firing at the relay tower which exploded in a flash of light. A few minutes later, a band of rebels charged their positions. As they passed the predesignated locations, Kor ambushed them from the rear. Disoriented, the rebels fell quickly. Kor waved to his companions. He needed to keep the momentum going if he were to retake the communications array. One of his warriors stopped and pointed in the direction of the building. Another wave of attackers was coming. Quickly they took cover and began firing. Then all disruptor fire stopped and the defenders charged brandishing bat'leths. Kor leveled his disruptor, squeezed, and noted the lack of response. "Dampening field. They must not know our numbers," stated Kor as he replaced his disruptor and took out his bat'leth. Standing tall he declared, "I am Kor, son of Rynar, and a descendant of the imperial line! All who oppose me shall journey this night to Sto-vo-kor!" At this, his companions changed weapons and prepared themselves for death. A single Klingon warrior sat propped up at the entrance to the Chancellor's antechamber. Both friend and foe lie dead all the way to the room he now guarded. He was proud to have survived this far. Three waves had come and been defeated. The surviving loyalists, all but he, had fallen back into the High Council chamber itself. His arm cramped, he twitched his right shoulder and winched in pain. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breathe deeply and exhale slowly. He felt the pain leave and looked at the sudden appearance of light. For a moment, he thought the end had come. Then, focusing his eyes, he saw that it was sunlight. The long night was over.

At the entrance to the High Command, three Klingons stood guard watching the elder general approach. One guard leveled his disruptor. Another spoke in Klingon, "This is not our decision." He raised his communicator, explained the situation and requested instruction. The word came back to allow him in. The first guard lowered his weapon and waved General Lorgh in and returned to his cover. "jIyajbe' <I do not understand> Why does he carry the banner of the Empire? Traitorous pet'aq! We all know he's behind this rebellion!" Together they watched General Lorgh enter the building and directed him to leave his bat'leth. One of them moved to scan him. "You have all my weapons, you piece of baktag! Put down your scanner." The two Klingons glared at each other. "Perhaps you would like your bat'leth returned to you?" General Lorgh's heart raced as he considered his response. It would not take much to kill these three and wave his troops forward, but three-to-one was risky. They might injure him in a way that would prevent him from continuing. "pujwI' HIvlu'chugh quvbe'lu'! <There is no honor in attacking the weak!> I have been summoned by the Chancellor herself! Do your scans!" The scan completed, Lorgh continued along his path. Ever vigilant, the third Klingon guard followed behind him, disruptor in hand. They passed through the long, dark hall, turned left so as to not enter the council chambers, walked under an open archway and into the huge antechamber. There they saw Azetbur sitting in the Chancellor's chair accompanied by a half dozen of her loyal warriors. The table before them contained several interfaces with fleet positions. Behind them, overhanging from the ceiling, an exaggerated banner of the Empire governed the proceedings of the war room. Chancellor Azetbur watched as General Lorgh was escorted into the room. As the escort turned and left the room, two warriors pulled out disruptors and aimed them at the traitor. "Chancellor, I assure you this is not necessary," the general began. "I have been and will always be in the service of the Empire." Azetbur thought it audacious that he would start with this position. "As long as the Empire works in your best interest isn't that right, General?" She raised her hands to the guards and lowered them. They responded by lowering their energy weapons. Lorgh smiled. "I have made no deception about my desires for the Empire. Even now, I have come at your request, hoping to make a swift end to this conflict." "Even as your house leads the rebellion?" "My house? Is that what your spies tell you? The Klingons outside are not from my house. They have taken up arms in the cause of the Empire! They have asked me to relay a message." Azetbur looked past Lorgh to the rough-hewn bust of Gorkon to the left of the entrance to the antechamber. "What message?" "They demand you step down as Chancellor and call for the High Council to reconvene. They will select another in your stead." "And if I refuse?" "Then, they will break through and have you executed." General Lorgh watched to see if she would reveal any weakness, but she did not. For the first time, he began to doubt. "Liked they killed my father?" Azetbur's slid her hands below the table to hide her nervousness. "At least I would be in good company!" "Be reasonable!" the general exclaimed. "We need to return to the old ways! None of this talk of peace with the Federation." Azetbur stared into the General's eyes and thought about all the manipulations Lorgh had to go through to get to this point. If he has the power to take leadership of the Empire from me, why talk? It did not make sense. "QamuIs Heg qaq law' lorvIs yInqaq puS <Better to die on your feet than live on your knees.>" At this, she signaled to have him removed. The two armed guards raised their disruptors and approached the general. "taH pagh taHbe'. <To be or not to be.>", he stated as he turned to leave. The irony was not lost on Azetbur. The first time she had dined with the Federation was the last time she dined with her father. She recalled General Chang had used that very phrase in considering what would become of the empire. In effect, that question still lingered on every warrior in the Empire. Suddenly, it occurred to her that General Lorgh was not present during that dinner. He must have communicated with someone who did, perhaps Chang himself. Why would he make reference to this now? Then, it occurred to her that this was challenge. He was telling her that he had been involved in the murder of her father and was about to come for her as well.

Rok'Tun sat in the Captain's chair and looked at the screen. "Any word yet on our boarding party?" He knew the answer even before he asked. Still, he was unwary with the situation. Firstly, the order had come from General Lorgh. Secondly, it was unlikely that the warriors he sent would return. Either they would die honorably or they would be captured. Fortunately, honor would be served if they succeeded their mission. "Captain, the boarding party has not checked in," said a nearby Klingon before he reached to respond to a green light at his station. "There is no change of position." Rok'Tun stood, "Onscreen". Just as the screen came up a torpedo was seen leaving the ship and heading for Challenger. He cursed loudly, "Who fired the torpedo!" The tactical officer pounded the console with his fist. "I don't know. It must have been controlled from another part of the ship." Onscreen Challenger let out a sudden burst of speed to avoid the torpedo, but the torpedo failed to adjust. Instead it continued past the Federation ship towards the planet. "Where is it headed?" the Captain demanded. The tactical officer turned, stiffened his neck and pressed several buttons on the console. "It's targeting a location on the planet surface." He pressed another button on the console and his face went pale. Quickly he turned to face the Captain, "It's targeting the High Command!" Rok'Tun cursed again and watched the screen as the torpedo became its focus. "General Lorgh," he muttered silently to himself. "Stop that torpedo!" The tactical officer again tapped the console. "Its destination is locked in, but I believe I can alter its path. That should give them more time to…" Just then an alarm sounded on the bridge. In all the commotion the crew failed to notice the full spread of torpedos and phasers angled in a sixty degree arc from where the torpedo was seen. The Bird of Prey rocked and the lights flickered on the bridge. The internal communication light went on and Rok'Tun pressed it. "Captain, that last hit took out our aft shield generators and a primary power relay. If we stay here, I cannot guarantee I can maintain the cloak or the aft shields. Rok'Tun took his seat and pondered the event. Someone had fired on the High Command and sought to make it look like the Federation. Without knowledge of their plan, that individual had knowingly endangered the lives of his crew. There would be hell to pay. "Take us out, full impulse. And maintain that cloak as long as possible!" ** Planetside General Lorgh released the button on his chair and watched the ships in space through the satellite relay. He smiled as the torpedo passed stealthily from the cloaked ship under the Federation vessel and was on course for the Chancellor. Then, quite suddenly, his expression changed. The torpedo's course had been altered to give it a longer trajectory and Challenger had fired on it. If it should hit… Just then, the torpedo exploded in a blinding flash of light. Things were not going as well as he'd hoped. His one chance of seizing power and implicating the Federation in yet another coup attempt ha failed. He stood, reached for a bottle of boodwine, took a swig and threw it hard at the wall. It shattered spilling its contents throughout the room. Then, his frustration lingering, he paused to think. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the Imperial banner and he smiled. ** High Command, Chancellor's Office Azetbur sat in her office, staring ahead of her at the door that just closed behind one of her senior advisers. An hour ago, there were rebels storming the compound. Many Klingons had died and it was now a standoff. Then suddenly a torpedo had been fired from the Federation vessel. Its target, this compound! In one fell swoop, the Federation could have ended this conflict and chosen to side with one of the rebel factions. They had enough ships orbiting Qu'onoS; they were in a position to take control... at least temporarily. Is this what they were thinking? Perhaps it was some new failed experiment to rid the atmosphere of the deadly inversion layer. Would they use such a lie? She had to wonder if General Lorgh were somehow behind this. For months now, rumors had pointed to his involvement in a conspiracy. All this skulking around in shadows hardly suited a Klingon of his position. Still, she had been spared. Did he change his mind? Decide not to kill her and blame it on the Federation? It did not make sense. She could hear her father, the revered elder statesman and warrior saying that Nothing is ever an accident in war, my child. You may not know the truth, but it will be revealed in time. Not all was going poorly. When the rebels started attacking Klingon ships, her redeployed fleet had soundly defeated them. If only two-way communication could be reacquired! She needed those ships to return and take control of the space around Qu'onoS! If they returned... if they still followed her orders... if only she knew, she could make plans. She closed her eyes and held back the anger. The events of late were starting to get all too confusing and out of hand. Sitting up straight, she keyed in a command to the terminal on her desk, and waited for the person she was calling. ** Outside the High Command General Lorgh walked with his usual limp through the dozens of rebels who were holding the Chancellor at bay. In his right hand was a bat'leth. In his left hand, the banner of the Empire. He stopped in his trek to look at the rebel leader. "You should get the wounded to the Federation doctors. One is underground and another is at the clinic." "I don't have the warriors to do that," the rebel leader objected. Lorgh turned his eyes back at the leader and raised the banner of the Empire. "See to it or your cause will not be seen as just." The rebel leader relented, detailing some of his warriors to see to the wounded. The General continued the short path to the Council chambers. For once he had no desire to keep the Chancellor waiting. This was not over yet and he was determined to make the most of it.

Chancellor Azetbur sat in her father's chair hands shaking. The recent communication to the Federation accusing them of starting a civil war was difficult. But, she did show strength in the face of the enemy, or was it an ally? She no longer knew. She glanced out the window at the reddish glow that now emanated from the sun. Scientists claimed that as the sun fell its rays were somehow distorted by the so-called inversion layer. It was only too fitting that the effect was 15 minutes of red sun at sunset. It was as if the red sun was a symbol of what must be done, what she was doing, what she had to do to save her people from…from…from bloodthirsty ignorance that said they would not accept help from the Federation or any other power. That thought repeated in her head a thousand times like water droplets dripping on a Chinese water torture victim. She carefully and slowly stood and walked to the framed picture of Chancellor Gorkon on the wall. Only a year ago she had placed it next to the symbol of her house when the High Council had granted her Special Dispensation to both lead her house and the Empire. Her hand reached out and she caressed her father's two-dimensional face. If only he were here, she thought, he would know what to do. But they had killed him! The cowards! What she had begun a year ago was now coming to fruition and with any hope the faces of all traitors, of all those who plotted against her father would be revealed. ** 3 hours earlier A group of Klingon officers stood as their commander entered the room. Captain Rok'Tun took his seat and the others followed suit. At the center of the tabled displayed a picture of a Federation starship, Excelsior class. "As you know, our ship is enroute to Qo'noS. Our orders are simple. We are to attack the Federation Starship Challenger and recover a spy before he can reveal his secrets." The Klingon Captain looked around the table for comprehension. If they did not grasp the enormity of the task, they did not show it. "How do you think we should accomplish this mission?" Lieutenant Kavok looked at the other officers, inhaled deeply and spoke, "Captain." He cleared his throat, "Captain, I have been studying the records of the attack we made on the Federation Fleet some days ago. The Federation may have a weakness in their shields we might be able to exploit." "Go on." The Klingon Lieutenant pressed several buttons on a nearby console. The image changed to a torpedo hit on the shields of Challenger. Kavok pointed to a section of the screen that highlighted a torpedo hit. "You will all recognize this hit sustained by Challenger in our recent skirmish. Watch as I play some of the recording of our encounter with them." Looking at the recording, frame by frame, the torpedo exploded creating a ripple in the shields and then something interesting happened. The shields seemingly jumped a meter. Rok'Tun stood up and asked that the image be replayed. "What is that?" He pointed at the jumping shields. "I have starred at it for hours, sir. I am convinced that the torpedo caused a momentary wave in the sensor harmonics. When the wave returned to its point of origin, it phased, causing a momentary reset." Kavok paused to let his statement sink in. "Captain, if we had a small ship at a designated location the moment a torpedo hits the shields, we could push our way through."

Lieutenant (J.G.) Savros meditated quietly in his quarters. There had been little time in the past week for meditation and his mind needed to be purged again of emotion. Thoughts swirled in his mind like the chaos of chicken soup as one human had put it. The delicate plan to restore the planetary balance from the harmful particulate matter had been approved and would be presented shortly to the Klingon High Command. They really had little choice in the matter. If they chose not to act, their planet would choke itself for lack of ozone till the animal and plant life recovered. Unaided, this could take a millennia. By then, who knows what could have happened. Root beer had been unpleasant and had provoked a gag reflex. In spite of this, Abe had offered him another mug of root beer. He liked Lt (J.G) Kas, but found his mind disorganized with random thoughts and an uncontrolled obsession for root beer. If only he could share with him his passion for order. The science department had not yet had sufficient time to unify. Lt Poldara came across as a hands-off manager, so he did not know whether she would personally approve of the plan to remove the particulate matter in the atmosphere. If she did not, it could mean a reprimand. If that happened, he would have to request a meeting with her and her supervisor, presumably the new XO, Commander Baalyo. That meeting could not be expected to be pleasant… And what of Lt Xiang? Savros had seen him so rarely as to barely know of his existence. It would have been nice to have another voice at the table. Then at least, it would be Lt Xiang speaking with the Engineering Chief. The idea of a warrior race puzzled him again. There was always a need for competition for limited resources, and most species had warriors, but a race dedicated to war? Klingons did have other castes, but these were not well known. They were not known for their achievements in science, engineering, medical, architecture, mining (except for Praxis), or any other non military pursuit. It is no wonder the Founders manipulated them so easily. Savros paused in his meditation. He needed again to compartmentalize his thoughts on the future. If he failed, he could affect it in some way as to alter its natural course. He inhaled deeply the vapors of the candle and focused his mind. His thoughts moved swiftly back into the storage areas allotted. They would surface when they were needed, but not before.

On Quo'nos the average storm front is quite different from Earth. Although the planet is teaming with life, the erratic wabble of the planet contributes to very powerful storm fronts. Combine this with the destruction of Praxis and the storms have been devastatingly large. Compared to Klingon storms, category 3 hurricanes are as common as tropical storms. Rok'Tun stood on the shore of his ancestral home and stared at the incoming storm. All of the arrangements had been made. Much of his family had evacuated, but many, many warriors remained. They were going to make a stand. With winds estimated at 230 mph, his home which had stood for 800 years might now be in jeopardy. The only comfort came from knowing that four other rival houses would be staying through it as well. By 1700 the storm's fury pounded his home. Those who failed to evacuate the smaller houses were driven from their homes and joined with the five. By 1800, the first of the large houses fell; many of its occupants were injured or killed. Unfortunately, the survivors found there was no room for them with the remaining four houses and most of them went unattended. By 1900, the eye of the storm passed and there was an eerie lull. During this time, defenses were reworked and several of the large houses began to communicate. Three of the houses decided to work together, but Rok'Tun's house decided it best to weather the storm alone. At 2000, the north wall of Rok'Tun's home had fallen and mass amounts of water entered in. Two of the other houses fared equally poorly. The roof of the first became saturated with water and collapsed in large sections. The second was hit by a tidal wave which broke through the rear door and flooded the house. By 2100 the storm had passed. Rok'Tun surveyed the damage to his home and visited the other houses. As he looked through the debris he heard "Commander." ***** Rok'Tun stirred in his bed and opened his eyes. His dream of a great and terrible storm had ended abruptly with someone calling for him. "Commander. Commander!" came the urgent request at the door. "Yes, yes, what is it?" "Commander, you asked me to wake you for your promotion ceremony." The ridgeless Klingon stood and began putting on his clothes. "Yes, Gar'at, you did well. I am awake." Some time later, Rok'Tun stood before some forty other Klingons. The head of his house inducted him formally into the Order of the Targ and promoted him to the rank of Captain. Then, as he accepted this honor, he was given a moment to speak. "Over a year ago, the moon Praxis exploded and plunged the empire into crisis. The chancellor had a crucial decision to make, go to war with the Federation or work towards peace. He was unwise to make peace with our enemy. We do not need the Federation! They pollute the warrior heart with their gifts!" The room burst out in affirmation. Rok'Tun continued, "The only security we shall know is the security of war! There is none other! Until we have seized the Empire and placed a true Klingon on the throne, we shall not know peace!" Again the room roared with cheers. Blood wine was spread in goblets to everyone in the room. The new Captain took a goblet and raised it high, "To you my peers I say, let us fight for the blood of the empire!"

Personal log – Lieutenant Junior Grade Savros The last week has seen a series of crises emerge concerning the Klingon Empire. With the destruction of the moon of Praxis a little over a year ago, the Klingons appear to be in disarray. A significant amount of the population of Quo'NoS has left. In at least one case, a rebel group has formed that appears to favor war with the Federation. This rebel group attacked the Federation relief fleet and within the past 48 hours attacked the USS Columbia commanded by Captain Saylek. My department head, Lieutenant Poldara, has beamed to the surface to survey the damage less than 24 hours ago. Her teams reported finding wide spread evidence of radiation damage to plants. At the same time, Dr. Gidgiddoni reported finding evidence of particulate matter in the respiratory system of Klingons. I have been working with engineering to determine the cause of the deteriorating ozone and to recommend solutions. Based on sampling the atmosphere with a number of probes and by communicating with several experts in the field of atmospheric science, I have concluded that there is an inversion layer located below the ozone layer that is trapping particulate matter in the upper atmosphere. The majority of the problem has been isolated to an approximate 1 meter layer of atmosphere approximately 20 kilometers from the surface. This layer within the ozone layer appears to be composed of a significant level of radioactive particulate matter which is ionizing and heating the surrounding air. As it does this, the particles are interacting with oxygen gas and ozone to form oxide compounds like Sulfur Dioxide, Arsenic Trioxide, Iron Oxide, etc. The presence of these oxides is interfering with the natural balance of oxygen gas to ozone within the ozone layer.It is not known how this 1 meter layer of dense particulate matter formed. Generally, an inversion layer is closer to the ground, perhaps 3 Km from the surface. It forms when industrial and other particulate pollution sources combine with water vapor and other compounds. These interactions occur at various points within a large area such as a 1 Km. The natural way of eliminating such pollution is by precipitation. An inversion layer at 20 Km from the surface exceeds the height where clouds might form (up to about 16 Km). This phenomenon is thought to be the unique to Quo' NoS and the condition of having a moon orbiting said planet explode, releasing billions of tons of matter in all directions. Some a small portion of particles became trapped in the upper atmosphere and conglomerated there. I have had several discussions with Lt (J.G.) Kas on how to resolve this problem. He believes he can modify the transporters to beam the particulate matter into a storage area. He intends to use shuttles strategically positions with transporter enhancers to increase transporter efficiency. He does not know how much volume he should attempt to beam at a time and expects to determine this experimentally. If possible, he will attempt to beam as much as 100 cubic kilometers of air at a time. If successful, he might be able to filter the entire atmosphere in approximately 500 million transporter beams. The inversion layer could be filtered in 5200 transporter beams. I am skeptical that the transporters can be configured to filter such an enormous area and will present one of my own solutions. Using modified 20th century filtration technology, it may be possible to filter the air at 1 cubic Km per minute. Using 1000 atmospheric probes filtering at this rate, the inversion layer can be filtered in approximately 1 year. Depending on how successful Lt Kas is in his tests, we may wish to use a combination of filtration probes and transporter technology.

Lieutenant (j.g.) Kas returned the tablet to the table. The Vulcan's analysis made some sense. If only he hadn't slept through atmospheric sciences. Well, to be truthful, he hadn't exactly slept. More like admired Jenny's tremendously gorgeous body. Those curves! Wow! She was hot! He pulled himself out of his day dream and pressed the nearby comm button. "Lieutenant Kas to Ensign Savros." "Savros here," came the reply. Abe palmed the tablet in his hand. "I was just looked at your analysis. Would you like to discuss over a root beer?" "A root beer? Yes, I have been meaning to try some. Would you mind if I invite Commander Cyiv?" The Denobulan commander put his arm around Savros' shoulder. "I had the same idea myself." A few minutes later the three of them sat in Main Engineering with mugs of root beer. Abe took a big swig of his drink and began, "I've been reading up on weather control technology. Although we brought some weather control stations with us, it is not as advanced as the ones on Risa." "True. I checked into it prior to leaving Earth and decided it was adequate. The energy requirements of the Risan system were quite demanding." Abe signed. "Hmm. Let's back up a second and reiterate." He remembered something one of his engineering professors used to tell him. "The problem is one of trapped air particulates in the upper atmosphere. An inversion layer, as you called it. If I remember right, an inversion layer is caused by a temperature change, where it's colder on the lower layer than on the higher layer. Is that right?" Savros took a sip of root beer and fought an inward gag reaction. Putting down the beverage, he answered, "Quite." "Then, can't we just focus some heat on the lower layers to cause it to break up, say with mirrors?" "I doubt we could make enough of a mirror effect to reverse the damage. The particles themselves appear to be reflecting some of the solar rays and contributing to the problem." "So, with weather control stations, do you believe we can reverse the inversion?" Savros stared away for a moment, concentrating. "I estimate a 70% chance that the weather control stations we have will repair the damage within 10 years." At this the quiet Lieutenant Commander decided to chime in. "We can't wait 10 years. The Klingons will make this into a political nightmare and might actually go to war."

*** INFORMATION PROVIDED BY THE VULCAN SCIENCE ACADEMY *** General Statistics Name: Savros Species: Vulcan Gender: Male Age: 42 (Born 2252) Height: 185.42 cm (6 ft. 1 in.) Weight: 68.04 kg (150 lbs.) Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Dark Brown Skin Color: Caucasian Place of Birth: Vulcan Features: Typical Vulcan features, clean shaven Bloodtype: T positive Father: Sorpal (deceased) Mother: T'Vell (deceased) Siblings: None Background – Savros was born on Vulcan, but grew up on different star ships. His parents were archeologists who collected many relics through their careers. They were tragically killed during one of their many expeditions while Savros was away attending the Vulcan Science Academy. Education – Savros was awarded an honorary Ph.D in Cultural Xenology from the Vulcan Science Academy. He is well versed in many fields of science and has a particular interest in alien linguistics and cryptography. Service Record 2294 Graduated Vulcan Science Academy; applied to Star Fleet 2294 Commissioned as Ensign and assigned to the USS Challenger Personality – Savros is an avid reader. He spends many, many hours pouring over books and scientific journals on archaeology, sociology and cryptanalysis (code breaking). He has few close relationships, but generally enjoys the company of even the most annoying individuals as this allows him to study alien cultures. He enjoys chess, a Vulcan version of Scrabble®, and any game or sport that has an interesting social or cultural background.

I'm adding a note on decorations and awards. I will record the Stardate later. Award date Awards 7/6/08 The Golden Quill 7/6/08 Second Chance 12/21/08 Silver Service Stripe 12/21/08 Immunity Award Promotions 12/21/08 Promoted to full Lieutenant