Col. C.E. Harper

Can y'all wait until I have my computer back and can send out my 'finishing' logs, or will you expire before then?

Lieutenant JoNs moved out of Main Engineering along with the executive officer and the re-captured Klingon woman. She maintained a rear point guard, officially to keep an eye on the shackled Klingon, unofficially to keep an eye on both Nelar and Harper. The foremost thought on her mind was "how in the name of the Great Predator Bird of the Galaxy do I get myself into these situations?" She had chosen to keep her phaser rifle slung over her shoulder; wouldn't want to make anyone nervous now would we? Heavens no. After the escaped Klingon had been tracked to engineering, it had been decided that DeChevel wanted her brought to the ready room by Harper. JoNs herself had asked "Colonel, do you require a security escort for the prisoner?" Phrasing. Its all in the phrasing of the quesion. Of course, since she hadn't specifically mentioned Rrowl or Spitfire, Harper had zeroed in on JoNs to be said escort. For all Kansas knew, it could also be a way for Harper to get un-interrupted access to the Caitian for a few minutes. As the ranking security officer present when Nelar had made her successful jail break...well, that sort of thing just does not look very good and invites a hurting. The small party entered a turbolift, which obediently whisked them toward the bridge. "Computer, halt lift," Harper said abruptly. She turned to Nelar. "Our conversation was interrupted. Quite rude of the captain, really; I'm sure he won't mind if we delay a moment to finish it. Aren't you?" A coy smile invited confidence. The Caitian ears flicked forward, intent on what was going on and being said. "You wanted an opportunity to join our merry band," Harper continued intently, watching Nelar. "I might be able to offer you one. But first you'll need to prove that your loyalties are as dependable as your skills." Nelar nodded slowly, knowing what was coming. She turned her head towards the Caitain and then back to Harper with a raised brow. JoNs's interest skyrocketed, and one ear flicked back as she observed the conversation between Harper and Nelar with unabashed curiousity. Before the conversation continued, Harper turned her gaze on the Caitian. "Let me be clear, Kitty," she said silkily, narrowing her eyes slightly. "This is a private discussion. I trust that Robair has taught you the meaning of discretion?" She waited for confirmation before continuing, "Good. Then I'm sure I don't need to explain that no one will hear about this from you. I assure you, if I discovered that your chief's lessons had been... disregarded... or less than thorough, the consequences would be severe, for you and for him." She smiled cruelly. "On the other hand, if you prove your education, the rewards would not be inconsiderable." The Caitian cleared her throat and muttered. "Oh yes, wrong place and wrong time." She looked directly at Harper. "Give me another good reason why I should trust you Colonel? This is, after all, much to spring on a being." "Trust me? I'm hurt, Lieutenant, honestly hurt. I thought, after our conversations regarding Lieutenant Zimm, that we had come to a certain... understanding. But if that isn't enough for you, shall we discuss what brought you to sickbay earlier today? Or perhaps we should proceed directly to the matter of our prisoner, here," -- she indicated Nelar with a jerk of her head -- "being very much not in the brig where she belongs." JoNs wisely reconsidered her rather precarious position that could also affect the security chief, if Harper had any say in the matter. "Right! I'm a non-Terran, currently in the middle of a sensitive conversation between the marine XO and a captured Klingon prisoner in which the XO is asking the prisoner where her loyalties lie. I'm thinking that I am fond of my career and my life, and would like to keep Robair around as long as possible because he looks so cute in that little ranking officer walking target outfit that he wears. Officially I know nothing, and this conversation does not exist, but if you both don't mind my saying, this is all fascinating. Please continue." Harper smiled and turned back to Nelar. "To put it bluntly, the captain has become a problem for a number of us." She leaned in closer to the Klingon woman, dropping her voice still further. "Problems like that need to be removed. Now, we could go about doing so in a number of ways... and if you refuse, it won't trouble me overmuch. But you wanted a chance. Here it is." Arms crossed, Kansas observed Nelar for her reaction and response. From the moment she detected the gleam in Harper's eye, she knew Colonel had a plan. Call it a warrior's instinct. Sure enough, when they paused before the turbo lift, the plan was laid out to Nelar. Kill DeChevel and earn a place on Agincourt. It was certainly an interesting prospect and as Nelar had nothing else planned at the moment... "Very well, I'll do it. The price of my services will be steep however. I require a command position on this ship plus a weekly payment." She grinned. "I must be able to maintain the right appearance after all. If a better opportunity comes up, I leave. You understand of course." Harper folded her arms, regarding Nelar with a cold speculation. "A command position? For something any idiot with a phaser could do? You must think very little of us, Klingon." The fingers of one hand drummed against the opposite arm. "Your fee we can arrange easily enough. I can even offer you a cut of the spoils from any conquests we make." At the mention of a fee, JoNs cleared her throat in a purring trill, and a lopsided grin appeared on the Caitians face, exposing one fang. "Credits and compensation? Oh, now that really is the universal language, at least in my own, ah, little world as well." She glanced at Nelar appreciatively before turning her full gaze back to Harper, sly grin still in place. "Colonel, since you seem to know so much regarding my under the radar activities, let me speak plainly. In addition to my word on keeping silent, a payment would further ensure that silence." One ear quirked back expectantly. "Business, you understand." Her eyes slid away from the Klingon to fix on JoNs. "Perhaps I wasn't clear earlier, Kitty," the colonel said tartly. "Your payment in this matter is my silence regarding your unauthorized activities. Unless you've always had ambitions of facing a formal inquiry, in which case I wouldn't dream of holding you back." JoNs paused for a beat, considering silence, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Colonel, I mean no disrespect, but I'd like to know. Why have you stayed quiet regarding my activities?" "Because so far, you haven't endangered or disgraced the ship, and besides which..." A brief, wolfish smile lit her features. "...it's always wise to be owed a favor or three." The Caitian briefly closed her eyes and sighed, before refocusing on the conversation at hand. No further comments were forthcoming. "Oh sure, I understand. Any fool with a phaser could do it," Nelar said, slowly leaning closer to Harper. "So tell me, Colonel, why hasn't it been done yet?" She chuckled quietly and leaned back. "I'll tell you why. You can't find anyone else to do it. So... my original offer still stands. You have just a few minutes to decide though. His Captainess is waiting....."

Construction on both the memorial and the Towers' replacement has already begun. The memorial uses water cascading into pools over the footprints of the old towers, and includes a below-ground gallery where the names of victims will be inscribed. The Freedom Tower (I hate that name...) is taller than either of the Twin Towers by over 400 feet. That's not usable space, btw, but a spire that rises from the Towers' height (1368 ft) to the new height (1776 feet). It's something of a "so there!" As for being an attack target -- probably. They've incorporated all sorts of things into the design to allow for better evacuation and rescue in the event of an emergency, and to limit the environment effects (chemicals, dust, and so forth) on the surrounding area should it come down. But I doubt they'll have trouble filling the space. When the various designs were being debated (and oh, were they debated) the one thing that most people seemed to like was the idea of making the new structure taller. This is a town that's very good at saying 'up yours!' :P

Based on the "count the sides" comment, let's see if I understand the first bit of your question... d4 -- pyramids d6 -- your basic cubes d8 -- diamonds, and the only other really pointy kind in the basic set d10 -- diamonds again, but circular around the middle instead of square like the d8s d12 -- almost spherical, all faces are pentagons d20 -- very spherical, all faces are triangles d100s are just really big, nearly-perfect looking spheres. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/comm...nD_Dice_Set.jpg -- left to right, d4, d6, d8, d12, d20, and 2 d10s. http://www.dicecollector.com/diceinfo_polyhedral.html -- your basic roleplay types http://www.dicecollector.com/diceinfo_how_many_shapes.html -- information overload on shape types

August 2397: The Marines have found a Romulan base, which appears largely deserted except for one room which is being protected at great cost. Security has a problem on its hands in the form of an escaped prisoner. Betrayals of various kinds are occuring all over. TBS: ~15 minutes Ag090606.txt

And it earns a terrific rate of interest, but only with the stipulation that you can't withdraw anything until 2314. To get back on-topic, though - Would there be any value in a short series, similar to the "summer academy" that was run a couple years back? I suspect we could get a couple-three GMs to volunteer for that if it was on a weekend and a limited commitment. And yes, I'd put my money where my mouth is. Drawback to that would be, there wouldn't be much time for word-of-mouth to get around. So it might not get much participation at first, where a permanent sim would become more widely known.

Recap 08.02.06 En route to Psi Velorum IV, it's a typical day on the ISS Agincourt. JoNs and Quade are dressed down for their little "sparring match" which ended up damaging Prell's ship, leaving the Trill fit to be tied. The Caitian's smart mouth earns her a good old-fashioned smacking from the Chief Engineer, before he decides to shackle the two guilty parties together to clean up their own mess. Just in the nick of time, Kroells enters the equation, unchaining the two women from each other and causing a bit of a ruckuss with Prell as Kassem, JoNs, and Quade enjoy the show. Nimetti reports in to keep things from becoming too inflamed. On the Bridge, Harper and Robair discuss the rebellion planetside, before the second officer realizes that his tactical cat isn't at her post. A quick message to the communal gathering place of the pool room clears up the issue, and it isn't long before JoNs arrives. Merril is in the NNC's armory with Day as the two Marines discuss Merril's role as Harper's bodyguard and their plans to extricate Velorum's overdue tribute justly due the Empire, before the colonel heads up to the Bridge to join the planning session. Impressed by Toren's successful ODN junction repair job, Kassem and Prell dispatch her to assist Tordai with a faulty monitor in Sickbay before taking a moment to discuss Kassem's plans for the evening. Frustrated that JoNs's indiscretions were witnessed by three Marines, Robair yields the bridge and reports to his office. No sooner has he arrived than Kroells joins him, intent on seeing Prell suffer. Agreeing, Robair dispatches Nimetti to arrest the Chief Engineer.

Recap 08.09.06 After Prell is escorted by Nimetti to the Booth, DeChevel and Kroells join the gathering of unhappy officers, where the captain secures the chief engineer's release. Amidst much finger-pointing and heated discussion, Robair is called down, whereupon he and DeChevel exchange words before the second officer has a meeting with the agonizer and a date with a toothbrush and the Holodeck. Meanwhile Kassem and Toren begin prematurely plotting on behalf of the chief, then head off for a combination of making one another's acquaintance and doing a bit of repair work. Day, Merril, Harper and Rieve are on the surface, continuing interrogation of the planet's reptilian residents. Harper gives the order for the leaders to be rounded up and made examples of and panic strikes among the lizards as Rieve and Day lead the pack into town. Adding to the chaos, the Marines destroy the residents' "Great Hall" and round up some of the younger ones to get the desired attention. After the situation is brought under control, a few specimens are selected for Vaos and Harper to interrogate. In the Science Lab, Enlington and Quade are making preparations to visit the surface, creating a nasal inhibitor to make their contact with the lizards easier. After dealing with the catfight in the Booth room, Kroells joins his assistants before they journey down to the planet. While on the surface, they come across a set of odd tracks, leading them to a set of ancient ruins.

August, 2397: The Marines clean out a nest of Romulans on the surface while Engineering brings the Iconian device aboard for study. A 'guest' in sickbay causes a few problems. Various command officers plot against one another in a variety of configurations. TBS: Science and Engineering: some hours, as logged Everyone else: up to 30 minutes, as logged Ag083006.txt

Presumably you'll find you when we either succeed or fail at taking over...

(Special thanks to my special cowriter, from whose point of view this log is written.) "Plotting" Joint Log 08.23.06 August, 2397 In orbit of Psi Velorum I mumbled as I entered the cargo bay. It was dark within, since it wasn't in use, and was perfect for such a secret meeting. Looking around, I saw a hint of movement to my left, and moved toward the wall. "Colonel?" Colonel Harper emerged from the shadows of a tall shelving unit to perch on one of the containers scattered about the floor. "Right on time, as always," she said quietly. "I was concerned you'd be delayed... with all that's going on." I shook my head. "On the contrary, Colonel. My younglings are capable enough, and naive enough to believe everything I say. Most of them, anyway. I presume you have interrupted the sensors around this area, so as we are not detected?" "Naturally. And I sent my guards to stand outside one of the holodecks, so they won't give us away. Do resist the urge to try to kill me while they're gone." She smiled briefly. "Of course not, Colonel. I wouldn't dream of hurting my ally in this... endeavor.” I glared at where I believed her eyes to be. "The captain. He will have to be dealt with, as I'm sure you've determined as well. Quickly and easily, and no knowledge. The sooner, the better. What options do you see?" Her eyes glittered slightly in the darkness. "Yes," she agreed. "His arrogance is nearly unbearable... but that is his weakness, I think. He is entirely too certain of himself and his authority on this ship. And I doubt he would expect an attempt to be made on his life while the Regent is watching us. This is the best time to move forward.” She hesitated a moment. "The problem is not so much how but who..." I nodded, even though it was doubtful Harper would notice. "Kroells, perhaps? Quade? I don't trust any of the Security people, and besides, they are being looked over by Command and Engineering both. It would be difficult for anyone in Security to pull this off. I don't believe we can trust anyone who is stationed on the bridge, either. Pilot doesn't like DeChevel, but he is quite fond of the Caitian. That would work to DeChevel's advantage. And the Caitian isn't going to kill the only non-Terran on the command staff. It has to be someone... else. I'd go for Kroells." "Kroells just might do it," she mused. "And his father could protect him from some of the fallout. The other possibility... There's a rumor going around the ship that the doctor is highly put out with the good captain for some reason. Perhaps we could enlist her assistance?" "I'm afraid I don't know the doctors all that well. I presume you mean Levy? If you think she's up for it, then I'll agree.” And then I thought about something else. "Whoever it is, we have to make certain that person doesn't try to take power for him or herself. One of us will have to be on the bridge at the same time, and neutralize the shooter, whoever it may be.” "I'll try speaking to her... carefully, of course." She got up and paced a few steps restlessly. "A shooting may be too overt. Even Kroells isn't that stupid; he'd wind up in the Booth for it no matter what. I'd prefer to arrange for an 'accident' of some sort.” She grinned, the white of her teeth flashing briefly in the dim light. "We could pin it on the collection of aliens down in engineering." I nodded. "Perhaps something in the Captain's chair? Some malfunction? We could make it work remotely, I believe. I'll look into it.” And then I laughed a bit. "Blame it on Engineering? Sounds like a plan.” I thought about the possibilities for the chair for a moment. "It could shock him to death?" "Oh, I like that," she purred. "Very symbolic. Tell you what... You see about getting Kroells to help you with the power rerouting necessary to pull that off, and I'll make sure that our medical staff won't be... too capable when responding." I simply smiled and nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll get with Kroells. Think you can see about getting him back up to the ship for us to discuss this? I don't know how much longer DeChevel expects to keep him down there." She nodded. "I'm sure I can arrange it. The device they've found ought to be brought up to the ship for safekeeping anyway; he can come up here and tinker with it." "I'll meet with him then. Anything else we should discuss? As in which of us takes the chair after DeChevel is... dealt with?" "It's a big jump for you," she pointed out, frowning. "But then, I don't really need the chair, and I'd just as soon not have the target on my back. Maybe, if you track down the "culprit,” Starfleet could be persuaded to confirm you as captain over... other choices. Myself included.” Harper considered a moment longer. "You have favors you could call in if there's trouble over it, I suppose?" "Of course I have favors I could call in! But I'd prefer not to use them.” I sighed for a bit, thinking again. "I'd have to put the blame on Prell, call in one particular favor, and have Starfleet siding with the two senior officers. I'd have to plant some evidence, but it would work. Actually, I could blame it on Kairi, which would put Prell in the hot seat indefinitely. If you don't want it, I'll take the target. I'm not nearly as big of a power-hungry idiot as DeChevel is." "Perfect!" she declared. "I can call in a few favors as well, but it'll have to be done quietly. It wouldn't do to have people think we actually like one another, after all." A wink was hardly visible in the poor light. "No, we mustn't have that. Colonel, I must be off. I'm afraid I may have already been missing for too long. I know people are keeping close tabs on me.” On that, I turned toward the exit. "Anything else, Colonel?" "Just don't get caught.” As an afterthought, she added, "Oh -- and good luck." "You either. I've got more to lose here than you. I'm the one that is going to take his place. And good luck to you as well." On that, I walked out the door and back into the public.

The USS Agincourt has been assigned to escort a convoy of freighters to Melkas III, a large colony world at the "crossroads" of two major trade routes. Agincourt is one of many vessels pressed into providing security for civilian shipping, as attacks on the trade routes increase. The culprits remain unknown, beyond scattered rumors of varying degrees of reliability. Recap 07.05.06 Leaving JoNs on the Bridge to keep an eye on matters, Davies pays a few surprise visits around the ship, stopping first in Engineering until a few minor Engineering issues distract Prell and Kassem from captain-sitting duties. He therefore makes his way to the NNC, where on-duty marines Day, Rieve, and Merril welcome him into their little on-ship base with some semblance of open arms. After making his way to the Colonel's office, Borel sends a covert message to Harper detailing their commanding officer's appearance before heading out to join his comrades in making him feel welcome... In the Mess, Harper and Condacin share a session of good-natured button-pushing and scientific speculation on the anomalous subspace rift, while Spitfire discusses life and work with Holt in Security. TBS: 2 days

Recap 07.19.06 The two alien ships begin transporting supplies away from the freighters and the surface. The Agincourt moves to engage them, and calls for backup. The alien ships are distracted from their prey, and turn on the Agincourt, just as the USS Gideon arrives to help. Down in the NNC, Day and Rieve attempt to get a solid ID on the vessels, and possibly extrapolate their weaknesses. Merril fires up the auxiliary bridge to help coordinate efforts. Science is also busy scrutinizing the attackers. New midshipman Enlington is thrown in the deep end as Condacin helps talk her through doing scientific studies in the midst of a firefight. Together they gather some information on the vortex formation, but sadly it does nothing to keep the Agincourt and the Gideon from getting pounded by the aliens. Everyone on the planet has vanished to emergency stations or shelters, leaving Davies to try and gather information from news feeds and communications with the ship. But things up in space are busy; coordinating between the main and battle bridges, Harper and Robair are attempting to keep the ship in one piece. No easy task, despite the quick targeting work of JoNs, as well as Pilot's hand on the helm and Kroells managing OPS. Kassem and Prell are scrambling to hold things together in two different engineering sections. The Gideon eventually falters under the strain. Critical explosions force its evacuation. The Agincourt drops shields around the shuttlebay in order to provide a transporter window, and begins taking on surivors, including Toren, who are met by Merril and a triage team. With the loss of the Gideon and the damage to Agincourt, it becomes clear new tactics are needed. Harper orders the initiation of Multi-Vector Assault Mode. Primary section Alpha and secondary section Beta tackles the alien ships while tertiary section Gamma remains to finish the evacuation of the Gideon and pick up the Away Team. Finally, a lucky quantum torpedo strikes something critical aboard one of the enemy ships. Fires are visible under a partially-collapsed hull. It begins to retreat, while its sister ship continues firing at the Agincourt sections. Alpha section pursues, as another of those strange vortices opens to receive the alien ship. When the second ship also begins heading for the vortex, Beta section joins the pursuit, and Gamma races to grab the Away Team before the aliens and the other sections can out-pace it too much. TBS: none

Recap 07.12.06 Davies, Prell, and Spitfire beam down to Melkas III to meet with the planetary governor, Toin. While they're in transit, Toin exchanges words with Robair, who is manning the bridge. Neither he nor JoNs seem particularly happy about the governor's opinion of the Agincourt and her crew. Toin doesn't seem particularly happy with their diplomatic training. Elsewhere on the ship, people are taking the opportunity to work on some personal projects. Condacin engages in her favorite sport, lieutenant-baiting, when Kassem drops by the science lab to pick something up. In the NNC, Day and Rieve shoot the breeze about the current mission, while Borel works his way through a small mountain of backlogged paperwork. Merril brings his squad in for a debriefing after a holodeck exercise, but he isn't allowed to talk long before Kassem shows up with the chips for their project. Day uses the opportunity to escape from Borel's paperwork and pay a visit to sickbay, passing Harper on her way out -- who likewise does a quick about-face upon seeing the looming stack, and walks to Engineering with Kassem. The quiet is interrupted when JoNs picks up some anomalous readings. Neither she nor Condacin can identify them. It becomes a moot point when an alien vessel appears, of the same class encountered at Vorana and Alamis. The Agincourt goes to red alert, just as a second alien vessel joins the party. TBS: <1 minute

August, 2397: On Psi Velorum, the lizard 'scientists' are taken into custody by Agincourt security, so that the Agincourt scientists can get to work on the strange device. Meanwhile, the Marines discover that there is more to this rebellion than a few foolish slaves... TBS: about 2 hours Ag082306.txt

Well, yes and no. It was going to be cancelled, and then it was renewed at the last minute. Which is why 4th season is a little... fast, and 5th is a little... lame. Because all of the important plot-wrap up was squished into 4th, and then there was a scramble to fill 5th with the 'extra' material.

If it doesn't count because it overlaps Neptune's orbit, doesn't that mean Neptune doesn't count because it overlaps Pluto's orbit?

(Takes place after "Holding the Reins". -- CEH) "Intimate, Intimidate" Special guest author, name withheld Harper Log 08.16.06 In orbit of Psi Velorum IV Harper bid the guard a good night as she stepped into her quarters, engaging the privacy lock behind her. This day had been, while not unpleasant, extremely long. Now that she was off-duty, she wanted nothing more than to settle in with a book-padd and a glass of the good brandy she had stashed away. The slave lay sprawled upon the colonel's bed in his usual scant attire, looking relatively placid. He turned over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he gave Harper a playful smirk. "Good evening, Charlotte." She gave him a half-hearted glare; the question of address was an old fight and not one she had the energy for tonight. Besides, he'd at least waited until the door had shut. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled. "Sheuji," she purred, sauntering towards the bedroom and leaning against the doorframe. "Good evening." He smiled slightly, almost boyishly. "How was your day?" "Very... long." She sighed lightly. "Although productive, and occasionally entertaining." "Productive," he repeated, "and entertaining. Aren't you lucky. Tell me more." She smiled. "Well, I educated some of the Empire's up-and-coming forces, and coaxed information out of a lizard. Incidentally," Charlotte added, wagging a finger at him playfully, "your people didn't teach these slaves their place in the galaxy very well." "Well, give them a bit of a break; the flip-flop of the slave masters has to be a little... disconcerting for them. Don't you agree?" "I don't see why." Shrugging, she pushed off the doorframe and came the rest of the way to the bed, brushing her fingertips against his bicep teasingly. "So there's an Imperial Warship hanging over them instead of a Warbird. What does it matter?" Resisting his first impulse, he sighed softly as she rubbed against his skin. "Perhaps it's how their masters drive them, but who am I to tell you how to manage a fellow slave." She nudged him over and sat down on the bed beside him. "And such a fine, upstanding example to your fellow slaves you are... ryak'na." Flushing, he replied, "What ever do you mean?" Eyes wide, she feigned innocent surprise. "You are obedient, aren't you?" Her hands trailed lightly over his bare chest. "Respectful?" She brushed the back of her fingers along his jaw. "Humble?" "Guilty as charged," he said, letting her hands wander over him. "Speaking of obedience..." "Yes?” Her hands paused, and she sat looking at him expectantly. "The trio of senior officers learned a few lessons today, so I hear." "Oh, really?" Amused, she settled herself more comfortably. "Robair was in a foul mood on the bridge as we arrived; something about a little tiff keeping his kitten away from the bridge.” Once again her hands began drifting aimlessly. "Something to do with that?" He knew that by keeping her informed on all the good gossip, she'd be more tolerant of his... failures as a 'good slave.' "Seems that the dear captain is into micro-managing the little power struggles between the department heads." "Already?" she asked, dragging a nail lightly along his collarbone. "Either he's extremely confident, or extremely nervous." "Confident," he nodded slightly. "The man certainly knows how to stir them up. They've taken to calling him Dread." Her hand stroked down the side of his face, fingers curling into the slightly waving locks of his hair. "So what did the dread captain do?" Laughing slightly, he answered, "Verbally made the little Kroells speechless, agonized Robair, and has Robair allegedly cleaning the holodeck by hand... not bad." "Hmm," she murmured. "I imagine Robair isn't happy about that." "Especially since the half-breed took Prell's side," the Romulan noted. If there was one thing they agreed upon, it was racial purity and superiority. The difference, however, was their definitions of racial superiority: one involved pointed-ears and green blood, the other round and red-blood. She nodded and released him, shifting her weight so that she leaned across him, one hand planted on the far side of his body, the other now freed to caress his throat and chest. Her eyes slightly distant, she murmured, "There must be some way to use this..." Cooing softly, he let her have her way for a few moments before speaking. "It could be a trap, Charlotte." "You tell me nothing I do not already know," Harper replied, her tone hardening as her gaze came back in focus. She glared down at him fiercely. "I think we can see which of us is better at holding on to power, can't we, ryak'na?" "For all your superior technology," he replied as gently as possible, "I still have much knowledge of the game of deception that you do not, e'lev." "Do you now, slave?" She caught his chin in her hand, staring coldly into his eyes. "And what, in your 'expert opinion', is going on aboard this ship?" "He's making a power play," he stated obediently. "Early for such a move, which makes it smell of a deception. He could be very well trying to draw out his enemies now, so he can tell who to off later – or sooner, as the case may be." She released him with a forceful motion that turned his head to one side. "Throwing his weight around like this will get him knifed before he has a chance to off anyone." "Well, sahe'lagga, you know as well as I do," he said as he gathered himself, "that half-breed didn't rise to his position without being smart enough to know what he's doing. The man certainly is ambitious." "Ambitious.” Her eyes lit with amusement and she leaned over to claim a quick kiss. "Like someone else I could name." "Well," he admitted. "I do see some qualities of a certain Romulan Admiral who once struck fear into the hearts of the Imperial Starfleet." Laughing, she dipped her head for another kiss, hot and hungry. When she released his mouth, it was to whisper, "But never the Marines, my little ryak'na." After three years of servitude, he'd learned to ignore her mangling of his native tongue. He'd grown accustomed to the horrid accent she couldn't be bothered to correct. Of course, it was also his own little way of reminding himself which race was superior. "Well," he said after she released him. "At least one Marine." "So long as you remember that, Sheuji." She fixed him with a sharp glance, then relaxed, settling back down. "Why is it you prefer to call me that?" "To remind you of your place, of course.” She idly toyed with a lock of his hair. "Everything you are -- even your most private name -- is mine, to do with as I please." He sighed, "I know that, but I prefer to be called by my given name -- Destorie." She smirked. "I know," she said simply. Romulan Language: ryak’na – garbage, trash e’lev – love sahe’lagga – passionflower Sheuji – In addition to a personal name, surname, and often a middle name, Romulans have a private name. They typically give this name only to those who are extremely close to them, and it would never be used in public.

(Takes place after "Lessons Learned", a joint log which appears to have been held up in editing. -CEH) (Also, not kidding about the M(ature) V(iolence) rating. Really. -CEH) "Holding the Reins" (MV) With special guest author "Cpl. Maria Torrence" Harper Log 08.16.06 Orbiting Psi Velorum IV Maria Torrence stepped through the doors of the interrogation complex, a slight swagger in her step. There always seemed to be bonuses for helping out the top dog once in awhile. Taking a few steps towards the colonel, she fired off a sharp salute. "Corporal Torrence reporting as ordered... sir!" Colonel Harper returned the salute casually, smiling at the young Marine who’d had the good sense to inform her of Lt. Staunton’s carelessness. "At ease, Corporal." She beckoned the young woman over to a console set before a cell with opaqued forcefield. Torrence glanced to one side, attempting to peer into the forcefield. "What -- or who -- do we have here today, exactly?" The colonel smiled, and activated a viewscreen on the console, displaying the interior of the cell. "One of the lizards. We had to give a few subjects to the Legate, but Lt. Merril saved the best ones for us. This fellow -” She tapped the screen. "- is going to tell us how these creatures got it into what passes for their brains to withhold tribute." "So now the hard part is figuring out how to get him to tell us that in the easiest, neatest way.” She even seemed a little proud of herself for deducing that on her own. Harper glanced at her, amusement clear on her features. "I do hope you're not expecting to keep your hands clean, Corporal. It's unlikely we'll finish the job without bloodshed." Maria shook her head. "Didn't think so, sir. But the neatest way possible often does still involve bloodshed." "The first thing," Harper explained, "is to know your subject. At its heart, every interrogation is about control -- who has it, who doesn't. The key to breaking someone is to learn how to take control from them. “As it stands," she went on, resting her hands on the console, "our subject here has control of one thing: the information we want. What we need to do is prove to him that he controls nothing else." The younger woman looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you have any ideas how to do that, sir? I've never had any dealings with a reptilian before..." she inquired, her tone nowhere near simpering, but obviously the Marine was slightly in awe of Harper. "Reptilians are little different from any other species.” The colonel keyed a quick sequence of commands into the console before her. "They rely on the existence of certain conditions -- atmosphere, gravity, temperature, etcetera. They gather information about these conditions through the same senses as humans. One of the easiest methods to discomfit a humanoid of any variety, therefore, is sensory deprivation. "Holding cells are designed to be completely isolated from the control well," she continued, as indicators on the console began flashing in response to her programming. "So now we've removed light and most sounds -- we could fit him with a hood if we wished to block all sound, but I prefer to operate remotely at first. The impersonal is far more frightening. "Now, Corporal, your turn. What else might we do to teach this swine that his fate is entirely in our hands?" Harper gazed at the young woman expectantly, wearing a small, pleased smile. Looking warily at Harper for approval, she ventured politely, "We could now flood, almost overload another one of his senses. Intermittent blinding lights, or impossibly high noises. Nothing injuring yet, still to unnerve him. He's cold-blooded -- perhaps something that his body would be unable to adjust to comfortably." Harper allowed a grin to slide briefly across her features. "Very good. Chaotic sensory input is excellent for breaking initial barriers." She programmed a sequence into the console, and a moment later the green-tint image was washed out by a flash of light. As they watched a random pattern of flashes dance on the monitors, the colonel added, "Another option -- which we might use in a moment -- is to alter the cell's temperature or atmospheric mixture. Or even its gravity. Once your subject is discomfited enough, resistance becomes difficult, if not impossible." She stepped to one side, waving a hand at the controls. "Here, Torrence. Amuse yourself." Almost randomly, she selected a few controls. For heat, the cell became cooler, frozen as Andor's moons. The planet they inhabited was dry -- the prisoner's quarters became as muggy as a rainforest. With any luck, it'd disorient him greatly. Harper watched over her shoulder approvingly. "Very good. Mind his vitals, though." She indicated a series of readouts to one side of the display. "We expect to see elevated heartrate and breathing, simply as a stress reaction, but we don't want to send him into cardiac arrest or seizure. Particularly when you adjust atmosphere, you need to keep a close eye on the subject's health." The colonel turned her back to the console, resting her hands on its edge casually. She kept one eye on the corporal's work, but was content to let the younger woman toy with the lizard. "It doesn't hurt to have a medical officer standing by when you're dealing with a new species," she said idly, watching the lights strobe in the cell on the monitor. "Keep at it for a while, then we'll take him into the main chamber." "Aye, sir. Of course, sir.” Hesitantly, she ventured a question. "I take it you're not unfamiliar with treatment of non-mammalian species, Colonel?" "Oh," she replied off-handedly, "my first assignment was in Cardassian space. One scaly is rather like another.” A nervous, quiet laugh. "But of course. It must have perfected your technique.” Torrence had such a long path to tread yet. It was disheartening, in a way; then again, she'd taken a grand step that day. "Think we're ready to get back to our little friend in there?" Harper looked over at the lizard's vital signs, then reached out and stabilized the lights so that she could see his face clearly. "I think he's softened up, yes. Bring him into the interrogation chamber." She pushed off the console and strolled towards the door at one end of the cellblock. Lowering the forcefield, Maria held her phase rifle at the ready, aiming it at the reptile as she jerked the barrel towards the main corridor of cells. Pitiful, really. The creature looked like it was shivering. Undoubtedly from the cold, and perhaps from the element of fear starting to seize him, he complied, jerkily moving across the plated floor down the cellblock. She followed, impatiently hurrying the lizard along with her rifle. The room was set up simply, with basic equipment suitable for restraining the subject in a number of positions and instruments with varied uses. Harper was inspecting an array of gleaming implements laid out on a tray. "Standing and spread," she ordered Torrence, motioning to a set of shackles attached to a freestanding frame. "And see what you can do about that tail," she added, as the limb in question lashed weakly. Binding its four limbs, she nodded, looking about for a restraint for the tail. She considered simply spiking the tail to the floor, but that would likely have left it incoherent for too long. After a few moments of consideration, Torrence took a cord, binding it fast around the tail and legs. To strike something with the tail, it'd be forced to move it along with both of the back legs, concurrently. Harper approached the creature bound to the frame, his limbs cruelly stretched by the too-short lengths of cable. She paced slowly around him, a medical tricorder open in her hand. She ignored the instrument, which was dutifully recording a baseline to be placed in the room's computers, in favor of watching the changing expressions on her subject's face. There wasn't much to read on that alien visage, but his eyes tried desperately to track her and she knew he was frightened. Circling back to face him, she allowed her lips to curl upwards slightly. "This can be brief," she suggested softly, gentling her tone. She considered touching him, but recoiled from the thought of it. "It can't be avoided, but it can be quick. You should have cooperated when you had the chance," she added, clucking sympathetically. "Now all I can do is try to minimize the unpleasantness." She leaned in, fixing an earnest expression on her features. "Tell me where your leaders are hiding, and you can go back to your home only a little the worse for wear." He was silent, but his tongue flickered out quickly and retreated again. She held herself still with an effort; coaxing this animal to talk was beneath her. "Mercy, and justice, are not unknown to the Empire, despite what our enemies may say," she told him quietly. "We do not wish to harm more of you than we must. The blame for this rests on your leaders' shoulders, and so too should the punishment. Why should you suffer for their folly?" Nothing. Very well, if the beast was going to be stubborn. She turned away, strolling to the table where the instruments waited, carefully ordered and arrayed. She walked her fingers over the selection, making sure the lizard could see her clearly. Now and again she paused for a moment, caressing the contours of a handle or tipping a blade to better catch the light. Each time, though, she moved on. Only after she had considered the whole tray did her wandering fingers return to a single small knife. The blade was only three inches long, but it curved backwards and came to a thin point at the tip. Flexing her hand gently around the handle, she approached the prisoner again. His tongue flicked in and out rapidly now, unceasing. She wondered how necessary it was to his race's speech; the idea of cutting it out appealed to her. Over her shoulder, she said to Torrence, "On the topic of knowing your subject: sensitive locations vary from species to species, and in individual members of any species. Always take the time to learn a new subject's sensitivities." "So watch for minute changes in his reactions to your motions?" she asked, thoughtfully. "If he reacts a little differently, you know you've hit a nerve?" "No different than any other species." She turned back to the lizard. Flipping the knife so that the edge faced away from him, she carefully traced a wandering line down his cheek and throat, and down onto his chest with the needle-fine point of the blade. Not much reaction, though when the point caught on the edge of a scale he twitched. Harper increased the pressure slightly, scoring a gouge in the tiny scales. His breathing quickened slightly. Patiently she continued, over his chest, across his abdomen, down each leg and across each arm. She watched him carefully as she worked, alert to the small flinches and hitches in breathing that told her where the most sensitive spots were. Turning the blade, she pressed the edge against his chest, pressing lightly, then with more force, until the scales parted and the blade sliced lightly into flesh. He gasped, jerked in the restraints. But she had no intention of continuing with the knife. Now that she'd calibrated the force required, the real work could begin. Returning to the table, she considered her next step. Then a slow grin slid over her features, and she chose a simple pair of tweezers. She strolled up to the creature, stroking its face with the tip of the tweezers. "Perhaps now you understand?" she said softly. "Resistance only breeds suffering. Help yourself. Help your people. Tell me where to find your leaders." The lizard said nothing, only breathed rapidly, his eyes rolling wildly in an attempt to track the tweezers. The colonel let them slide down his neck and come to rest at the shoulder where a mottled pattern began. "This coloration," she mused aloud. "It's intriguing. It's almost like... guidelines." Easing the tweezers under a dark scale, she tugged sharply. The scale ripped free, a single drop of blood welling up from beneath it, and the lizard cried out. "This might take a while," she said ruefully, eyeing the dark patterns that threaded across his skin. "But I think you'd look fetching in green and red -- brown is so drab, don't you agree?" Another scale pulled loose wrung a cry from him. "Oh, but of course.” Torrence smirked, almost lazily enjoying the spectacle. Even if they didn't get one damned bit of information, it'd be an enjoyable bit of work nonetheless. Harper looked at the corporal; she'd almost forgotten Torrence was in the room. "Would you like to try?" she offered, holding the tweezers out. Excitedly, but not overly so, she accepted the tool, turning it between her fingers before approaching her subject. Mimicking the more experienced Marine's motions, she slid the implement between two scales, jerking it out a bit more messily than the colonel had managed to. She squinted a bit at the noise it solicited, wrinkling her nose. Did it have to make such god-awful noise? Harper stepped back to watch appreciatively. She enjoyed teaching more than she would admit. As well, the slow methods she preferred were effective but often tedious. But what were underlings for, if not to do the boring scut work? A few more of the soft plates met the tray beside the worktable, with the creature periodically screeching and whimpering. "Still no interest in giving us the names?" Smiling, the colonel put in, "Make your life easier. Tell us what we want to know." The lizard only shook its head wildly. Putting the tweezers aside for a moment, Torrence looked down into the scaled little bastard's beady eyes, a darker expression on her face. "You really do want to share your knowledge with us, Smelly." "No," the creature whimpered pitifully. Retaking the tweezers, Torrence pinched some of the bloodied skin from a recently opened wound, stretching it from the rest of the lizard's body. "Tell us," she whispered, her voice calm. The colonel watched Torrence work for a while, admiring the effect as the lizard's torso slowly became a patchwork of red flesh and green scales. When he had stopped writhing in his bonds and merely hung limp, sobbing, she stepped forward and laid a quelling hand on the corporal's shoulder. "Now he's ready to listen," she whispered in the young woman's ear. Slowly, she nodded, pacing in front of Smelly for a few seconds. "Your leaders have betrayed you. They have abandoned all reason, leading you and your kind into chaos. Tell me -- would you have your entire civilization brought down by the madness of a few? Save your people; save yourself." "A word of advice, Corporal," Harper said, approaching the prisoner. "Not everyone is best motivated by selfish concerns." Idly she picked at the loose edge of a scale, setting off a broken whimper. "Some have higher concerns. Family, for example.” The lizard hissed involuntarily, and she smiled. "Yes," she whispered to him, "it's so easy to be brave when you are the only one who suffers, isn't it?" Almost casually she ran a nail along the edge of a slender line of scales on his chest. "But if you don't help me now, then for our next meeting I'll secure your family. You can watch them go through all of this -- won't it be interesting to see what it looks like? "Or," she continued, tapping a scaleless patch of skin, "you can be more noble and turn over the ones who are truly responsible for this. Then you go home, and your family don't find out what the inside of an interrogation chamber looks like." The lizard kept silent, aside from the occasional moan or whimper, and Harper snorted in disgust. "Clearly, stronger measures are called for," she declared, returning to the tray of instruments. Wiping her hands on a towel, she considered the selection, and finally picked up an agony wand. Similar to the technology in the Booth and the agonizers, the wand delivered targeted pain without doing physical damage. She didn't want the beast bleeding to death yet. "Stubbornness does nothing for you or your people," she told him, flicking the wand on at its lowest setting. She brushed it over the raw, bleeding skin at his neck. When the screaming stopped, the colonel continued, "Resistance only breeds destruction. If you continue to refuse to answer me, you will die. Likewise, if your people continue to refuse to obey us, they will die." She circled him slowly, making the wand dance over his skin, never still. Maria watched in pure, unbridled fascination. The little hellion was a fool; the sickly sweet smell of blood in the air attested to that. Harper was a genius; the fact that the reptile had been through as much pain as he had and was still alive -- coherent and conscious proved that. And while Torrence had more respect for her than ever, she was also getting a distinct feeling that she would be unwise ever to cross the other woman. Very unwise indeed. The lizard would concur with her. Having worked her way around behind the lizard, Harper now stepped in close, speaking quietly into the membrane that passed for ears on his species. The wand stroked down the length of his tail, almost lovingly. "At this rate, my superiors are going to lose patience with you slaves. Your labor will simply cease to be worth the trouble of suppressing this foolish rebellion. And then they will order us to destroy your cities from orbit. "Have you ever seen an orbital phaser strike?" she asked softly, pressing the point of the rod against his tail. "First there's a sound like a distant sonic boom, and when you look up to see where it came from, the phaser beam comes lancing through the clouds. It touches down, and for a moment nothing seems to happen, except that all the clouds have turned to perfect rings, drifting away from the beam. Then you see a vast white plume rising from the impact site, and a moment later you hear the roar and feel the ground shiver beneath your feet while a strong wind rushes over you. "The funny thing is, it doesn't smell bad. You look at that towering white column, and you expect to smell burnt wood, plastic... flesh. Except it's not smoke -- it's steam. So the wind smells like the air before a thunderstorm: heavy, moist, and energized. It's almost beautiful, really. But there's no town there any more. It's just... gone, instantly." “No,” the lizard whimpered, his voice nearly worn away from screaming. “No?” Harper repeated. “Then tell me where to find the ones who put you up to this.” He thrashed weakly in his bonds, a last token resistance, and then slumped, all fight drained from him. “I… will tell you.”

(Somehow I forgot to post this at the time. Oops. -- CEH) "Collecting Tribute" A joint log by Harper, Day, Merril, and special guest STSF Muon as Ghecky. Day stood with the others on the transport pad, ready to beam down. Merril stood slightly to one side in the backup position. Nodding to the transport operator, she spoke, “Energize.” Moments later, the three plus their respective teams appeared in the designated lizard settlement, eyes alert, and weapons ready. The local leader, Ghecky the Smelly glanced up at the arriving humans after reading a note he'd been passed. “Whose idea was this?” he said, smacking the lizard who delivered the note. “Out of my sight!” Crinkling her nose slightly, Harper glanced at the others. “Reports of their smell were certainly not exaggerated.” As she looked around, she watched several lizards head indoors hastily. Ghecky, however, turned to watch the approach of the ‘thieves’. Day nodded, also looking around. “Indeed. Looks like we'd be doing the empire a favor if we sterilized this world.” She keyed the subvocal comm and spoke to Harper. “The ugly one there is the leader,” she said, indicating Ghecky. “It may yet come to that, but then we'd have to send crews to extract its mineral wealth.” Her eyes shifted to Ghecky, appraisingly, and she used the subvocal system back. “Seems like a good place to begin, then,” she said, stalking towards Ghecky, whose tongue flicked in and out of his mouth nervously. Merril remained in place, scanning the area and keeping an eye on the Colonels. “Enjoying watching our 6's, are you, Troll? Keep your mind on your work,” she said subvocally to him, while smirking at Harper. Harper bit her lip to hold in the smirk as she stopped in front of Ghecky. “So... lizard... You're in charge here, are you?” she drawled. Ghecky attempted to smile. “Ghecky in charge, yes. What you want?” Paradox casually raised her phaser rifle, pointing it dead at his chest. “Playing stupid? Bad idea.” Harper, however, playing the ‘good cop’, smiled back, practically purring, “Only what's ours, slave. Something of which you seem to have quite a lot.” Ghecky gave them an innocent lizard expression. “Of course, of course. You want payment but...” he paused to shrug, “Ghecky no can give.” Day’s expression darkened. “Wrong answer, lizard-boy.” A slow grin started to form on the Troll's face, with an almost-visible glow in his eyes. Subvocally, Day, who had been quietly probing the small lizard’s mind, spoke again, “It has two children.” Harper kept her rifle lowered, wearing a tiny smile. “Now, Colonel... perhaps we should offer -- Ghecky? -- a chance to explain.” Ghecky raised his arms in a placating manner, even as he spoke an obvious lie, “Now... now. Were it up to Ghecky, you would get payment and more. Ghecky's boss says no payment to give. All gone. No more...” “And I'm the Empress...” T’Loren commented subvocally. Harper spoke back, “In that case, I want a raise, Your Imperialness.” Then, aloud, she said to Ghecky, “Boss, eh? Tell you what: you introduce us to this boss of yours, and I won't have these two show you how our phaser rifles work.” Ghecky eyes darted around nervously, “Um, boss not here. Gone, on long vacation. You talk to him when he comes back. Ghecky no can help.” He was starting to wonder if he can get away alive and with the loot. Day shook her head. “Well, perhaps then your daughter knows where the tribute is... or we could turn her into a pair of boots... your choice.” Harper, looking from Day to Ghecky, offered a one shouldered shrug. “We do seem to run through boots very quickly.” Thinking furiously, Ghecky tried to find a way out. “No no. Ghecky will um, find money. You wait here. Ghecky go see what Ghecky can find...” Harper smiled, motioning forward a corporal. “It's quite a lot of material -- you'll need help. We'll go with you.” “And since I know you're thinking of running, know that if you do, we will destroy this entire city... your wife, your children, your sister...” Day informed him. Ghecky started to back away. “No, no, I get and bring. No problem... You must stay... Ghecky be right back.” He quickly turned, trying to make a break for it. Merril prepped a stun shell, as Day raised her weapon. “Very well... don't say I didn't warn you.” She casually aimed at and shot the nearest person. “That's one death on your shoulders. How many more will there be?” Harper watched Ghecky calmly, as he started to try to run in a blind panic. Subvocally she spoke, “Bottle of saurian brandy if you can get its knee in one shot.” “No problem,” Day replied, then taking careful aim, she released one hand from her rifle, drew a knife and threw it smoothing to impact Ghecky’s left knee. At the same time, Merril launched the stun shell, which landed a short distance in front of the fleeing lizard. “I’ll put it on your tab,” she added to Harper, strolling up to Ghecky. Harper spoke aloud, “Nicely done. Now, about this tribute...” Ghecky lay on the ground, hissing, instead of yelling in pain; he made one last attempt to crawl away. Day casually stepped on the left knee with her knife still protruding from the back. Harper too strolled over. “Oh, now, don't do that...” She planted a boot on his back. “...We were having such a lovely chat.” “Oh, I'm sure, Colonel, that he was just trying to lead us to the loot... weren't you?” Day intervened, taking over the ‘good cop’ role. Trying to break free and slither away, Ghecky continued to squirm, “No... no... no loot. Ghecky tell you. No loot....” He started to lose consciousness, which led Day to step just a little harder on his knee to keep him from passing out. “SSSSSSsssssssssss!!!!” he hissed loudly in pain. Harper, her voice going icy cold, spoke, “He needs to lead in a less... solo... fashion.” She leaned her weight on his back. “Listen up, scale-face. Either you hand us the loot, or your boss. Or I carve a message into your hide, to let all these other lizards know what defying the Empire buys you.” Subvocally, Day spoke again to Harper and Merril, “Second house to the right... his family is there...” Then she spoke aloud to Ghecky, who was still muttering incoherently, denying the presence of loot, “Now, now... this isn't the way you really want to go about this... it's just money, after all. It's not worth your life, is it?” Harper dispatched Troll and his squad to bring the family, “Maybe a visual aid will jog his memory.” She considered for a moment, “Some Earth species of lizard can regrow their tails. Shall we find out if you can, scale-face?” She tapped her rifle against his tail. He whimpered, attempting again to scurry away, muttering only weakly. Merril brought his wife and two children, herding them roughly out into the street where Ghecky could see them. Ghecky looked up at his wife, and spoke in a rough whisper, “Give... give...them....” His sentence was incomplete as he passed out. Harper stepped back, kicking the unconscious lizard in disgust, and muttering, “Weakling.” Meanwhile, Ghecky’s wife indicated a crate hidden behind their house. Looking over, Harper smiled… a feral grin. “Well, that's promising. Where's the rest?” The wife uncovered a second crate just beyond the first. Despite a stimulant administered to Ghecky by Merril, the lizard was still incoherent. “He’s useless,” Day told Harper, moving away from the prone ‘leader’ to look at the loot in the crates. “Well, this is starting to make up for the trouble he caused... now, where's the real tribute?” she asked the wife. With a sad sigh, the wife showed them to a hidden door in the ground leading to an underground cellar. Day smiled greedily, “Now that's better... I think perhaps we can let you all live... Colonel? Since they've been so cooperative.” Harper nodded reluctantly, “Oh, very well. I suppose we can always make luggage of the ones in the next village.” Still moaning on the ground, Ghecky turned a sickly shade of green as Merril administered a dose of a minor toxin that would make him ill for 2-5 planetary days. Day smiled at him. “Perhaps you should give that to one of the children as well... Just as a reminder.” The children huddled around their mother, quaking in fear. The mother looked pleadingly at the marines. “Please no, children not grown. Get more sick than grown one. Please...” Despite the pleas, Merril dialed down the dosage for the oldest daughter. Nodding to a member of his squad to separate and hold the girl, he administered the toxin. The lizard child almost immediately began to look ill, and started coughing. Merril snorted, knowing his job well enough not to unintentionally kill. He gave her a second injection to temporarily boost her immune system. Harper inspected the crates, “Well, it's a start, at least.” Then she glanced at Merril, “Aw... you softie.” Day prepared to order the beamup of the goods, separating out, of course, the first crate as special payment to the marines for their trouble. The lizard woman took her children back inside when she realized that no one would stop her. Ghecky was left in the street, looking ill and coughing. Merril nodded at Harper, “They need to live to pay another day,” he answered back, joining the rest of the marines in preparing for the next stop on their collection route.

August, 2397: As the Marines sort out the bodies on the surface, the Science team makes an interesting discovery, and some people settle their differences back on the ship. TBS: as logged Ag081606.txt

It's not just Pluto/Charon and "Xena" -- there's at least 2 other Kuiper Belt Objects vying for planetary status: Sedna and Quaoar, as well as a slightly smaller one called Orcus. Personally, I think nine is too entrenched to change. But it's pretty cool stuff all the same.

You're just figuring this out?

August 2, 2397: The ISS Agincourt has arrived at Psi Velorum, and the process of extracting the overdue tribute begins. Trouble is not far off, however, both for the Marines on the surface, and for certain officers on the ship... TBS: as logged Ag080906.txt

"Face in the Mirror" Harper Log 08.09.06 Psi Velorum system Sometime after the riot... Down on Psi Velorum, Lieutenant Staunton repressed a desire to hold his nose. The lizard-like beings swarming over the face of this world produced an array of scents from the pleasant to the putrid. Unfortunately, in combination they were entirely unpleasant. Some of his men were less disciplined; one sergeant in the back of the formation gagged. She was elbowed sharply by her neighbors, and promptly collected herself. Staunton turned, glaring fiercely. "Sergeant Gallagos, either comport yourself properly or report back to the ship," he snapped. "There'll be none of that in my squad." "Yes, Lieutenant," she replied, ducking her head slightly. "Sorry, sir." He huffed, irritated, and turned to regard the slaves they'd come to deal with. And slaves there were. They were packed together on this planet so tightly it was a wonder they had room to move. Staunton considered the best way to deal with these rebels. It would have been simplest to simply bomb their cities; it would even have been merciful. Races had been exterminated for lesser affronts to the Empire. But that was years ago; today the Empire preferred to preserve lives and worlds where possible, considering wanton destruction a waste of resources. The labor of these slaves was more valuable than the tribute they had withheld. Selective damage would have to do, he decided. First make it clear what he wanted from them, then destroy a few strategic buildings. Then he'd send one squad out to round up a few of the lizards for questioning -- and execution, if they proved useless in any other fashion. A couple of very public executions might be just the thing to motivate honesty. * * * The squads had barely shucked their combat gear when Colonel Harper strode into the team room. A flurry of motion answered her arrival as everyone hastened to stand and salute. One corporal dropped his rifle on the floor in his haste. The clatter it made hitting the deck plates seemed deafening, and everyone conspicuously avoided looking at him or at the colonel. Her eyes went unerringly to the hapless soldier, naturally. "Pick that up," she ordered quietly. He bent to obey at once, though his fingers seemed not to cooperate. Highly-polished boot tips appeared in his field of vision; he straightened to find the colonel in front of him. She held out her hands, and he surrendered the weapon to her. Casually she turned the phaser rifle in her hands, fingers brushing across its surface in search of cracks or dents. She raised it to her shoulder -- thankfully pointing away from him -- and sighted along it, then lowered it and flipped out the power cell with a practiced hand. Satisfied with the charge, she closed it back up, turned it once more, and then presented it back to him. He reached out to take it, but she didn't relinquish her hold. "This is your life, Corporal," she said, still quietly, but her voice carried in the still room. "You do not treat it like any other tool. You do not drop it; you do not leave it lying on a bench;" -- several people attempted to surreptitiously check the benches -- "you do not toss it casually into your locker. This weapon will bring you victory, but only if you treat it with respect. It will save your life, but only if you treat it with dignity. Do you understand?" Nodding vigorously, he answered smartly, "Yes, sir, Colonel!" She released the rifle into his hands. "Good," she said crisply. "Disassemble, clean, and reassemble it, then do the same for your squadmates' weapons. When it's in perfect condition, make it your best friend." Her gaze bored into him. "For the next two weeks, Corporal, you will eat, sleep, and screw with that weapon beside you. If I catch you without it, you'll be on punishment duty for a month. If I catch you treating it with disrespect, you'll spend that same month in the Booth. Do I make myself clear?" Mouth dry, he rasped out another "Yes, Colonel!" and tightened his grip on the rifle. She held him under her glare another moment, then turned away, to his intense relief and the immediate softening of his knees. "So now that we've all had our basic training refresher," Harper said lightly, strolling back towards the door, "let's return to business." She stopped at the front of the room, letting her gaze travel over each person in turn as they all held their breath and sweated. Among her men, the colonel was known for being fair, even a bit of a soft touch -- in private. Let one whisper of embarassment touch the battalion, however, and she was at once cold, forbidding, and merciless. "Lieutenant Staunton." She crooked a finger at the man, who came forward to stand at attention before her. "You have a discipline problem in Charlie Squad?" The other members of that squad tensed, while everyone on the other squad relaxed just a hair. But Staunton's face was slack with confusion. "No, Colonel," he said, his voice rising with just a hint of question at the end. "An isolated lapse, then?" He blinked. "Colonel?" One brow arched delicately. "You have a matter of squad discipline to report to me, Lieutenant. One involving... Sergeant Gallagos, if I'm not mistaken?" The woman in question blanched. Brow furrowed, Staunton shook his head slowly. "Colonel, I can't think of anything deserving of your attention, truly," he said. "I... I put Gallagos on report last week, sir, but it was a matter... It was a poor locker inspection, Colonel." He shook his head again, bewildered. "Then why, Lieutenant, was I informed that you saw fit to reprimand the sergeant while on-planet? There must have been a significant lapse to merit such -- given my standing orders on the subject." Her eyes were locked on his, and their blue depths held no mercy. She waited. Staunton gulped, but lifted his chin and straightened his back. He knew better than to protest the colonel's discipline, when it came. "No, sir," he said evenly. "The reprimand could and should have waited to be given in private." "Remind me, Lieutenant -- why do I have such a requirement?" "To uphold the dignity of the battalion, Colonel, and to reinforce its unity before the slave races," he answered promptly. Protecting the image of the battalion, and the Marines as a whole, had been drilled into all of them early on. No weakness could be shown to the slaves who must fear them. Harper nodded gravely. "You tarnished that dignity today, Lieutenant. You allowed an entire square full of slaves to see you turn on one of your own." "Yes, Colonel." Her hand lifted, hovered above the agonizer on his chest. Only a slight hitch in his breathing revealed his nervousness, and she smiled just slightly. "The battalion's honor," she murmurred, and pressed the slim badge. At once he convulsed, back arching unnaturally far, while his face twisted into a rictus of pain. His breath came in labored gasps, and whimpers were dragged out from behind his tightly-clamped jaw. He writhed beneath her hand, still pressed to his badge, and his legs gave out, dropping him heavily to his knees. The fall broke the contact, and she let it, withdrawing her hand and leaving him half-sobbing on the deck. "The battalion's honor, Lieutenant Staunton," Harper repeated coldly. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself back to his feet. A trickle of blood slid down his chin from the lip he had bitten to hold back screams. Trembling with the effort, he forced his shoulders back and stood at attention before her. "The battalion's honor, Colonel." The icy mask dropped, allowing a brief smile through, and she nodded her approval. Taking one's due punishment well was a matter of honor, too. Then she looked over his shoulder, to where Gallagos stood watching. "As for you, Sergeant -- Marines do not show weakness in front of slaves. You have punishment duty for a week. Lieutenant, make sure the sergeant understands the lesson thoroughly before you release her to normal duty." "Yes, Colonel," echoed back to her from two throats. She nodded, then waved a hand at the assembly. "As you were," she said negligently, turning crisply and striding from the room.