Cptn Elias Moore

NX-05 Challenger Mission Briefing -- July 31, 2155 A week of shore leave has ended and the crew is heading back to Starbase McKinley, boarding Challenger, and preparing to disembark. The previous six months have seen a great deal of change. Not only is the crew pondering what happens next with the Commodore MIA, but Starfleet has headed in a direction that seems strange to some. Despite the formation of an unprecedented alliance between the local alien races, Earth's fleet buildup has accelerated and shifted to a heavy emphasis on combat capability. Some Starfleet-imposed changes will directly impact the crew. Challenger has undergone moderate refits, new equipment and supplies have been loaded into the cargo bays, new general orders have been issued to several departments, and new personnel have been assigned. Most curious of all are the orders that await the crew. An officers' meeting has been called for 0900 hours in Challenger's conference room.

Elias stood in the departure lounge of Docking Bay 7 on Starbase McKinley, leaning against a railway near a viewport that looked over the shipyards. Behind him, Challenger crewmen were filing through the corridor on their way to the nearest available transits to Earth. Many of them were in heated discussion, and Elias could recognize, from bits and pieces of their conversation captured as they emerged from the airlock, that they were talking about the Commodore. Even with all the questions surrounding the crew's mysterious blackout period, the Commodore's disappearance was understandably the only topic on their minds. They hushed and walked past in silence when they caught sight of the Commander. In the reflection against the viewport, Elias caught many of them glancing curiously at him. He merely stared at the viewport, not acknowledging their passage. There was no evidence to indicate what had caused the six-month blackout. On one hand, nothing appeared to have changed. The length of the crew's hair had not changed even in the slightest, they woke up with joints feeling no stiffer than as if they'd woken up from a single night's sleep, and they all awoke in the exact same locations they'd occupied when they blacked out. Objects on the ship were all undisturbed, food and medical supplies had not depleted at all, and the mission logs would not even acknowledge the passage of six months. On the other hand, the deuterium and antimatter supplies had depleted enough to indicate six months of warp core operation, the environmental logs not only acknowledged the blackout period but also showed curious temperature changes... and then, of course, there was the Commodore. The ship had been searched deck to deck, aft to stern--rooms, corridors, maintenance tubes, even the crates in the cargo bay--and he was nowhere to be found. A search of his quarters revealed that his pistol and communicator were also gone, but his duty uniforms were all still stored in his wardrobe. Had an emergency occured that pulled him from his sleep? Why was no one else pulled from slumber? Why couldn't the crew remember anything; were they unconscious, or had their memories been erased? Where did the Commodore disappear to, without leaving any indication of his passage? Too many questions to be answered, but very little evidence to go on. Elias already knew what they'd do next. They'd backtrack, find out if there were any traces of what had occured on the course between Earth and Cait. Given the lack of clues so far, chances were slim that they'd find anything... but finding nothing would be preferable to, as Lieutenant Walker suggested, finding his body jettisoned into space. When he wasn't considering the Commodore's disappearance, Elias was remarking at the scene out the viewport. Starfleet had been busy in the six months of their absence. The McKinley fleetyards had expanded dramatically; the crew observed the same over Utopia Planitia as they'd passed Mars. The unmistakeable frames of no less than seven NX ships and even more smaller craft were being assembled between the two sites. Even the McKinley starbase had been expanded to support the visibly heightened pod traffic. The movement of labor and equipment between the construction sites looked much like a swarm of bees, even more hectic than what Elias remembered of Challenger's construction. Starfleet was working at a frenzied pace, and Elias wasn't sure he liked the implications. Admiral Gardner's face suddenly overlayed one of the new NX frames visible out of the viewport. "You were expected for debriefing 15 minutes ago, Moore." "I thought I'd stop and admire the scenery..." Elias said without turning. He kept the sarcasm out of his voice, though it was ripe on his mind. "Yes, quite a view, isn't it?" Gardner smirked as he strode up to the railway. "All thanks to you and your crew, of course. The Caitian bounty has yielded impressive results. We should have ten new NX vessels ready for active duty by the time the year is finished." Elias raised an eyebrow. "Copied the Challenger Project schedule, have you?" Gardner uncharacteristically chuckled. "I'm starting to warm up to those Martian friends of yours. Their labor contributions along with the fruits of the Caitian mining operation are allowing us to amass our own little fleet out here. And with the formation of the Coalition, not to mention problems with some anti-alien extremists that we put down while you were away... folks on the surface are starting to warm up to the Project too." "How aware are they that these ships are being built for war?" Elias asked, his tone as casual as he could manage. Gardner snapped a look at him, the smile no longer on his face. Elias met his gaze for the first time and smiled pleasantly. "That is what they're being built for, right?" He pointed at the viewport. "I mean it's clear in the framework of that one right there. Built more for short-range mobility... tactical mobility to be precise. And the gaps in the frame reveal where you're going to be installing... what is it... six, seven phase cannons?" "Six." Gardner replied. "Standard armament since Columbia's launch. We've even since refit Enterprise. An overhaul of Challenger's tactical systems would be impossible given the construction demands the Commodore made. But his desire for peaceful exploration is continually revealed to be shortsighted. The NX missions are showing us how much more vital strong defensive capabilities are. That's all it is... defense. We're hardly at war. Quite the opposite, in fact; you have read the reports about the Coalition, I take it?" Elias ignored the question and pressed on. "I was told that Challenger's construction nearly started one or two wars. One ship... poor tactical capabilities. Now you're building, as you say, a small fleet, heavily armed. Seems a little risky, wouldn't you say? Admiral?" "Do you honestly think we'll back down, just because a few worlds think they can bully us around?" Gardner narrowed his eyes at Elias. "If anything, those incidents reinforced the importance of a strong fleet capable of defending Earth. Trust me to do my job, Moore, and you worry about your own. *That* is what I'm here to discuss." Elias shook his head, all too willing to shove aside the Starfleet buildup issue and return his attention to the real problem at hand. "The crew's paying a visit to Earth, but I'm not giving them too much time. As soon as the ship is swept over for any signs of sabotage, I'll recall them so we can head out and look for him." "Your crew has earned a decent shore leave after the Caitian mission." Gardner said. "Let them stay for a week or two." "But the Commodore--" "Is out of your hands." Elias looked at the Admiral incredulously. "Challenger will have other matters to attend to. Locating the Commodore is a task that will fall to the appopriate people." "'Appropriate people?'" Elias repeated, raising his voice. "Who's more appropriate than a Starfleet crew? Than the crew that was under his command?" Gardner paused for a moment before delivering the answer that he was sure the Commander would not receive well. "Internal Affairs." The shocked look on Elias' face said it all, but the Admiral was quick to cut off the verbal outburst that he knew would come anyway. "The circumstances of your crew's six-month blackout and the Commodore's disappearance are posing a lot of questions. There's been some speculation that he was responsible for this mystery." "You're going to have to explain that particular line of speculation to me, Admiral." Elias snapped at him. "Because I certainly don't get it." "According to your reports, you all awoke after this six-month period in the exact same conditions and locations as when you blacked out. Yet one man, the Commodore, was nowhere to be found, nor were his sidearm or communicator." Gardner directed his gaze out the viewport. "There is some belief that the Commodore aided his own covert removal from the ship. That he defected." "Defected?! And exactly whose belief is that, I wonder?" Elias asked in a clearly accusatory tone. Gardner glanced sideways at him. "The private discussions of the Admiralty are not your concern, Mr. Moore. I can tell you that there has been concern among more than one of the Admirals for quite some time, even before this incident, about the Commodore's loyalties. Even if we are wrong, however... the Commodore could still be in the custody of a hostile alien agency. This will have to go through Ambassadorial channels... and your diplomatic experience leaves much to be desired." "I can't believe you'd accuse him of being a traitor. Who could you possibly imagine he'd defect to anyway?" Gardner gave him a look that was difficult to read. "Like I said, Elias... leave such matters to the Admiralty... who, I have come to inform you, have elected to pass command of Challenger to you rather than seek someone else, seeing as how we'll have so many ships to staff soon." For the moment, Elias suppressed any shock that the Admirals would give him a command. He was more stunned at the accusations being hurled at Moose. "They want *me* to replace the traitor, then?" "I'm not amused, Mr. Moore." Gardner shot him a scolding look. "Your lack of restraint was given a wide breadth of tolerance when you had others around to keep you under control. But now that you'll have a command and you'll be reporting to us, we'll expect you to show a fair bit more discipline and respect." "Respect?" Elias asked mockingly. "For you? Oh sure... because *certainly* your voice wasn't the loudest in opposition to this." Rather than respond with the expected angry outburst, Gardner put on a smile that seemed almost a mark of victory. "On the contrary... mine was the deciding vote." This left Elias with a mixed feeling of confusion, skepticism, and more of the suspicion about Gardner's agenda that he'd felt the last time they spoke. He kept his feelings masked, only raising an eyebrow at the Admiral. "Admiral Leonard will be available again at 1400 hours." Gardner added, looking somewhat disappointed that his surprising revelation didn't get more of a reaction out of Elias. "We will be waiting in his office to formalize your promotion and to brief you on your first mission. We will be expecting your prompt arrival this time... Captain." The Admiral turned away from the railing and made his way out of the lounge. Elias resumed staring out the viewport, now even more contemplative and troubled. His attention was not on the shipyards now, but on the stars beyond. "Where are you Commodore?" He muttered to himself. "What kind of mess have you left me with..."

"It is good to be back in Dimension Prime." Kinton noted, glancing at his superior officer in the command chair of the Rubikon. "Don't you agree, sir?" Rubik's eyes dropped and bounced back up, a nod of agreement in the traditional Tholian way. They both knew the truth of the matter. Their mission had seen a potential space-time catastrophe narrowly avoided. Not Rubik's first such mission; as a young Tholian, many years ago, he had been part of a crew that had cleaned up an inverse continuum echo. This more recent mission had been more severe, however, and he had been in command of it; the feeling of importance that accompanied this thought was pleasing, and he was sure that Kinton, as first officer, felt it as well. They would be welcomed back as heroes, by the populace at large as well as the Directorate. But, indeed, the pleasure of simply returning home was the proverbial twinkle on the gemstone. "We have arrived in the Sol system." Frene reported at the control console. "Powering down the slipstream drive and proceeding at light four." "Let us see the homeworld." Rubik ordered. The crystalline viewscreen at the top of the Bridge came to life. A human could identify the planet displayed as Earth... but a mutation of the familiar Earth so altered as to be nearly unrecognizable. The shapes of the landmasses were the same. But the land was partly obscured by a shifting red mist that enveloped the entire planet--vapors of the boiling oceans that were colored by light reflected off the great crystal spires of the Tholian cities. It was a magnificant sight for Rubik's crew to behold. It was Homeworld. It was Earth... conquered by the Tholian Assembly three hundred years prior. Rubik looked down at his second in command. "I must admit. There was a certain charm to working with the Humans of Dimension 42." "I know what you mean." Kinton replied. "Humans in our Dimension have become such a rarity these days. Only a few colonies out on the fringes, struggling to survive hostile environments, harassed continually by the Romulans. You almost have to feel sorry for them... but they brought it upon themselves by invading Old Tholia. The projections show that it will be the same way for the Dimension 13 Humans... they will become slaves of the very 'sub-Humans' they now conquer. Always paying for their intrusive ways, the Humans." Rubik's eyes shook from side to side. "Not the Dimension 42 Humans... if the early projections are accurate, at least. They look to have a bright future ahead of them. They are already building it, in fact--working with other species rather than bullying them around. Long way to go before they can call themselves our equals... but not bad for Humans. Perhaps we should have simply asked for their help before we sent them to Dimension 13." "Too risky." Kinton argued. He tapped the panel beside Rubik's chair. "All crews of Directorate Fleet Prime, this is the command ship Rubikon. We have arrived at New Tholia. Prepare to disembark for four cycles of hard-earned shore leave."

I'm not sure which guides you're referring to, but I can tell you there's nothing you can buy that can aid you here. At least one of the advanced sims relies on novels for its plots, and a few people have found some use in the TNG technical manual. But any guides to just simming can easily be found online, in the Moose tips threads right here for instance.

Noble sentiments, folks, but sometimes real life crops up and keeps us away from the game. Don't worry, the GM's are all trained in torture and murder. ^_^

There was a flurry of activity on Challenger's Bridge as Tholian technicians moved between the stasis crystals monitoring the memory dam protocols. Each of the crystals was glowing and its attached equipment crackling. The complicated process taking place within involved the stimulation of any memories acquired since the crew had entered stasis followed by the placement of bioneural blocks specially keyed to suppress only those memories. Tholian bioneural technology was only so advanced, however, so the procedure would not be perfect. The episodic memories--the specific sensations, experiences, and knowledge collected--would be blocked, the crew effectively having no idea that a 'Dimension 13' even exists and no memory of any details from the USS Defiant. But the more deeply rooted semantic memories, those not tied to any specific experiences, could still influence each crew member--emotional sensations that can't be tied to any stimulus, creative inspiration that seems to come from nowhere, and possibly even dreams (or nightmares) that are forgotten in the morning. Since such memories are shrouded in ambiguity anyway, the crew would never become too suspicious of their source. The dam would be effective enough for all intents and purposes. Doctors Tirken and Setik were aware of much bigger problems. So far, they had filled no one in on Commodore Moose's escape; in fact, they planned not to. The two scientists were prominent officials in the Directorate of Interdimensional Affairs, and, like all of their colleagues, both had their eyes on even higher ranks--elevation to a position at the Board's conference table, eventual appointment to the position of Directorate Chairman, assignment from there to the position of Science Advisor on the Assembly Council, and, perhaps, ultimately, election to the position of Grand Councilor. The success of as sensitive a mission as the Dimension 13 Project would guarantee the immediate promotion of everyone involved. But the threads of promotion for Tirken and Setik would be cut if their critical mistake was discovered by those in charge, namely Rubik and Kinton. So they remained silent, claiming that a severe engine failure resulted in the vaporization of the missing craft, and reporting that they'd already prepared the Commodore's crystal for the memory dam. Setik leaned over to Tirken and spoke in the chirping, clicking equivalent of a whisper. "You're *certain* this will work." Tirken glanced at his colleague. "Certain? Well... no. Theoretically, however, and even quite likely, the stasis crystal will not be required to ensure the Commodore's return." "'Theoretically?!'" Setik huffed, his voice slightly raised. He glanced around and restored his voice to a whisper. "Even if the Commodore has returned, he's out there somewhere with a Tholian craft. Doesn't that compromise some kind of security? These humans should not have access to that kind of technology!" "True. But that's a risk I believe we can live with. If anything, it will only ensure that the Commodore finds his way back to this ship more quickly." "And if he *hasn't* returned, Tirken?" Setik asked angrily. "If the Dimension 13 Moose is still in this dimension, wandering around with a Tholian craft? He could end up causing even more continuum damage! We can't keep this charade up long." "Even in that highly unlikely scenario, how much damage could one man possibly do? At least the technology he's acquired is not from the future. And if any damage is caused, it will likely not be for many more cycles. Think about it, Setik. By that time, we'll probably be on the Assembly Council, *giving* orders to Rubik rather than obeying them." "The scandal it would cause! You're going to be the chipping of me, Tirken!" Setik complained. "I can't believe you let him escape! And now you're going to drag me into a conspiracy that could cost us our cranial formations!" "My good Doctor, I have survived a long chase through a dreadfully warm corridor, even as continuum fluctuations ripped at my body with increasing strength and frequency." Tirken looked over at Setik. "Danger is now my middle designation." Tirken laughed, but Setik fumed, as the crystal beside the command chair was dissolved and the released Commander Moore was caught by the attending technicians and laid out on the deck. Thick red smoke filled the Bridge as more of the crystals were dissolved, and a shipwide comm opened, congratulating the technicians on a job well done and ordering them back to their ships for the return home...

The Academy tonight is at 12 midnight ET (9pm PT) and it's not always TOS. ^_^ Drop in at 11 for Red Star Nightclub, everyone is welcome.

The Bridge of the NX-05 Challenger was eerily quiet, as Dr. Tirken was the only person remaining on board the ship... aside from the actual Challenger crew, of course, but they hardly made for good conversation as they were currently in stasis. Tirken swept a glance across the four crystals on the Bridge, their accompanying equipment thrumming at a barely audible volume. The officers imprisoned within were close to success in Dimension 13, but they were equally close to failure. The pivotal moments had come in which the entire mission was balanced on the point of a needle. Tirken looked at the viewscreen and the eight Tholian ships assembled, including the five that had been summoned to provide support to Kinton's backup fleet, poised outside the Sol system to assault Defiant in case Challenger failed. All of their crew, along with the rest of the technicians working on the project, had been sent to Dimension 13 to man the backup fleet. They were all locked into interphasic transporters aboard the largest of the displayed ships, the Rubikon. Tirken reached across Lieutenant Krasner's stasis crystal and opened a comm channel to the Rubikon from his station. "Setik, this is Tirken." The viewscreen image changed to show Dr. Setik seated at the head of the Rubikon Bridge. The Tholian's eyes nodded. "Doctor. Just the two of us now, ay?" "Just the two of us." Tirken responded, a hint of tension in his clicking. "And by the Great Bonanza, if our Dimension 13 plans fail and the continuum shatters we'll go down together, will we not?" "An heroic sentiment my comrade in sciences!" Setik responded with a chirping chuckle. "How go the memory wipe procedures?" "Fine, fine. I've got the crystals all tied together into one of the panels up here on the Bridge. We just wait for the crew to return, give the panel a few taps, and the crystals will search out and erase every memory the crew's accumulated since they were locked in stasis." "Clean, efficient, and devoid of any need for excess work." Setik observed. "I always knew you were a great scientist, Doctor." The two Tholians were sharing a granitic laugh when they were suddenly overcome by a tremendous wave of vertigo. They each grabbed onto the stations in front of them to maintain balance, their bodies feeling as if on the verge of caving in. Gradually, the sensation faded and all was normal once again. The technicians took a moment to recover their senses. "Another space-time vibration!" Setik said. "They're getting worse." Tirken's eyes shook rapidly to clear away his dizziness. "Check the interphasic links." Setik tapped quickly at his station and his eyes narrowed. "Commander Moore and Ensign Walker have both been switched back. Their interphasic threads could not withstand the disturbance. The rest of the links are in tact. Not too bad, considering." "Moore and Walker?" Tirken asked musingly. "Those were the first two sent to Dimension 13." "Aye. It appears that the threads are getting weaker the longer they are maintained." The piercing whistle of an alarm emerged from the crystal pad lying on Tirken's console. He picked it up and scanned it over. "... something is wrong with the Commodore's stasis crystal..." "What?!" Setik exclaimed. "By the Quartzfather! The molecular structure of his crystal is beginning to break apart!" Tirken looked up at his associate with eyes that shone brightly with panic. "He's breaking free!" "Breaking free?! How in the Gemcutter's Lab is that happening?!" "I have no idea!" Tirken raced around the station to Moore's crystal and tapped frantically at the attached control panel. "I can't establish contact with it. What do I do?!" "The temperature, Doctor!" Setik replied urgently. "You must lower the temperature in his quarters before the crystal is gone! If he dies, Rubik is going to make pendants out of us!" Tirken nearly tripped and fell as he scrambled back to the science station. His hands danced aimlessly around the keyboard. "Doctor Kerik was the one who knew this ship's systems. I'm not sure if I... wait, environmental controls... I think I've got it... it should be safe for him..." "You must disable him, Tirken." "Disable him... disable him... what do I use, what do I set?!" Tirken looked around desparately. "I told you, I don't know the ship's systems!" "To the Blower with the freaking systems!" Setik shouted, pounding a fist against his station. "You have to go down there and disable him yourself!" Tirken looked up at the screen. "Damnit Setik, I'm a scientist not a soldier! I would never be able to handle the cold anyway!" "Just stop whining and *do* it, man!" * * * * * The long crystal lying on the bed in the commanding officer's quarters slowly cracked and melted away. Layer by layer, the crystalline shell turned to ooze and drooped to the bed sheets. Exposed to the air too long in its sludgelike state, the material evaporated. A red smoke hissed all around the rapidly shrinking stasis crystal, and the sleeping figure within was revealed. When the shell was reduced to nothing and all the smoke had cleared, the sleeping figure awoke with a gasp and popped up into a sitting position. The Commodore looked around and quickly took in his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was blacking out in engineering. Now he was asleep in... what appeared to be his quarters; his senses were still a bit mottled. It gradually dawned on him... the bastards! They'd survived the radiation weapon, sedated him, and dumped him in his quarters! Weak, do-gooding invaders from another dimension! His ship was overrun! He jumped off the bed and dashed to his door to break out... but, to his surprise, the door opened as soon as he hit the access panel. Were they so stupid that they had neglected to seal the door? He looked at the desk beside the door and saw, how convenient, a communicator and a pistol. How could the impostor Moore have been this sloppy? He would pay for the mistake. Moose grabbed the two items before stepping into the corridor outside his quarters. He glanced both ways. No one in sight. But the sounds of many hurried footsteps were soon heard coming from the right. Without pause he turned to the left and hustled away from the footsteps, his senses not yet drawing in all the subtle differences between this corridor and the corridor he was familiar with. Doctor Tirken, stumbling along and gasping for breath as the frigid air assaulted his body, finally reached the Commodore's quarters. Much to his horror, the door was open, and there was no one inside. "Oh no..." Tirken moaned before continuing past the door and along the Commodore's trail. "When Rubik gets back there's going to be Jewelry to pay..."

Elias found himself gazing across the center of the long poker table, and realized that his gaze was being met by a spotted gray Bulldog with five playing cards fanned out in its upraised front paws and a smoking cigar hanging from its maw. Two booming barks suddenly issued from just to his right; there, quite unusually seated in the chair just beside him, was a Mastiff laying two cards down on the table in front of it. At the far right end of the table, a Saint Bernard reached its paw over to the playing cards stacked near it and slid the top two cards across the table to the Mastiff. Elias' gaze returned to the Bulldog, still staring at him, only now its right eye was narrowed and it was grinding the cigar with its teeth. He looked toward a clinking sound to his left and saw a Sheepdog, its stare also on him, raising a glass of Brandy to its muzzle. "Hahum, your play, Elias." The voice came from across the table, near the left end. Elias stared back at the smirking face of Q for a moment, before realizing he was holding up the game. "Oh, right." He blinked and lifted his hand off the table. It was fairly weak, offering nothing more than a King and a Ten of Diamonds. He plucked out the other three cards and slid them toward the Saint Bernard, who returned three cards from the stack. The Sheepdog promptly slid just one of its cards down the table. It suddenly occurred to Elias to ask Q a question that had been nagging at him for the past few minutes. "Where am I, how did I get here, and what the hell is going on?" Two cards coasted down the table. Q merely chuckled. "You're so much fun, Elias, this is why I always invite you to the game." Two cards coasted back up the table. "I think now would be the best time for me to point out that I'm getting just a little bit tired of you screwing around with me." Elias threw a stern look at Q. The Basset Hound at the left end of the table barked, shook its head, and flicked all five of its cards down the table. "Tsk. Where is your sense of boldness?" A disappointed Q chided the Basset before looking down the table. "I'll take two." He slid two of his cards to the St. Bernard. All eyes at the table, except Elias', turned expectantly to the Bulldog. "Are you going to answer me?" Elias pressed. Q rolled his eyes. "I am not 'screwing around' with you, as you so eloquently put it. The only person screwing around with you is you." "I don't understand." The Bulldog slid two stacks of chips to the center of the table. "Of course you don't understand." Q stated matter-of-factly. "Your cognitive thinking is achieved by a lump of meat that happens to have chemicals flowing through it. But I can explain in terms that it *may* be able to grasp. When you make contact with an omnipotent being such as myself, the experience resonates for a long time... your lifetime, in fact, as fleeting as the human lifetime manages to be." Elias raised his eyebrow. The sound of more chips shuffling drifted from the right end of the table. "You're saying you're not really here?" "Ah! He gets it!" Q enthused to the Basset, who merely stared back looking depressed and disinterested. "And here I thought I'd have to spend the whole night breaking it down into smaller words for him." Elias was about to respond when he caught something out of the right corner of his eye. He looked down at his stack of chips, then over at the Mastiff, who was glancing up the ceiling innocently. "Hey, you stole one of my chips." The Mastiff looked down at him and barked. "Don't play dumb with me, I spotted you." Elias pointed an accusatory finger at the massive dog. "See? You really ought to try to stay more focused on the game, Elias." Q said. "You're too easy to take advantage of right now. You've been bashed over the head twice, the second time upsetting an already nasty concussion. And just look around you. You're not even in the right body." Elias looked over at the Bulldog, still staring at him, still vigorously chewing the cigar. "The... the game?" Elias asked Q, suddenly feeling confused and drowsy. Yes, clearly he could feel the effects of another concussion playing twisted gags on him. "The game, yes. There's a lot at stake." Q replied, severely at first, but a mischievous smile slowly creeped over his face. A poodle in a pink dress walked up to the table with a tray of drinks and began replacing the empty glasses. "Well, I was never very good at poker." Elias rubbed his head and his brow furrowed deeply. "Are you saying you're in my head?" "Subconsciously speaking." Q answered. "Considering the sort of trance you're in right now, it's no surprise that I would pop up. But I still remain a part of your subconscious, the closest thing that a human has to not being a crashing bore... too bad your conscious minds are always working so hard to suppress it. You're not going to remember any of this, nor any of our previous chats. Probably for the best, considering how positively dull our chats usually end up being. In fact, you're not going to remember anything at all from your little mirror universe quest, since the Tholians are going to erase all your memories of it." "What?!" Elias immediately became more attentive as he stared wide-eyed at Q. "Yes, they can't have you bringing back any knowledge of 'Dimension 13,' now can they? Would 'screw around' with their precious space-time continuum even more. A stunningly insignificant concern, I agree. Quite the contrary, rather, I think your continuum would be a lot more entertaining with some random splitting, splicing, and collapsing here and there. But the Tholians are quite obsessive about the whole thing. Almost sad how many times that brain of yours is going to end up being selectively purged in your lifetime." Q smirked and pointed at the chips in front of Elias. "Your bet, by the way." Elias blinked confusedly and looked at his cards again. Still nothing but the King high. But he was never the type to quit, and, as Q pointed out, there was a lot at stake. He tried to mimic a satisfied smile around the table as he threw some chips to the pot. "I'll raise twenty." "You're bluffing." Q accused at once. "No I'm not." Elias replied quickly. "Omniscient, remember?" Q asked. "That's not fair!" Elias bellowed. All the dogs around the table began barking with laughter; the Bernard's spectacles nearly fell off. "It's not funny either! Hey... wait a minute... if you're just in my head, not even the real Q, how would you know if the Tholians are going to erase my memory, huh?" "I may only be a fragment, Elias." Q answered, in an almost offended tone. "But I'm still a fragment of a being far more powerful than your imagination could grasp. Even the smallest mountain on a planet made of gold is worth a fortune. I would know... I once sold one to the people of Nighus VII--ruined their whole economy within a Nighan year!" Q laughed as a few more piles of chips were shoved to the pot from the left side of the table. He wiped at his left eye as if clearing a tear away before looking down at his cards. "Well, I do believe I will call. Let's see them gentlemen." The dogs laid their cards out and Q glanced around at the hands before presenting his own cards with a wide grin. "Magnificent! Flush! Read'em and weep, as the Humans say!" Q reached toward the pot, but a loud yipping issued from the left side of the table. Elias looked around the Sheepdog and saw a Pekingese that's head barely rose above the table. It presented a full house with one final yip. "Unbelievable!" Q moaned as the rest of the dogs whined, howled, and hung their heads. The Pekingese scrambled up onto the table to collect the pot. "Some people just have all the luck." Elias watched the tiny dog drag the chips toward its chair and realized that Q's stern gaze was on him. "You've got a lot to learn about the game, Elias." But the voice did not come from Q this time. Elias followed it to the Bulldog, still staring at him, still chewing the cigar. "And not much time to learn it." Elias' eyes opened reluctantly and were assaulted by light. What remained of his dwindling awareness informed him that he was being dragged down one of Defiant's wide corridors. He tried recalling what had happened so that he could decide what to do next, but unconsciousness quickly pulled him into a scene involving chimps on bicycles...

Dr. Chipek materialized aboard the Dimension 13 Rubikon's Bridge and scampered promptly to the figures assembled in front of the command chair. Lying on the ground was the prone form of Rubik, his unconscious state given away by the dimness of his pinpoint eyes. Chipek looked at the Tholians gathered around him--Kinton, Frene, and Loask--Rubik's crew. "He collapsed as soon as we returned from Challenger, several hours ago. It may have been the transport that caused it." Kinton explained. Chipek's eyes crooked in a frown as he produced a crystalline medical control pad. He held the pad over Rubik's body and tapped it. Rubik's body glowed momentarily and produced a low thrumming sound. Chipek's frown deepened and he continued tapping, running a series of scans. "He is not responding to stimulation. This is not a physical condition. The stress of the continuum damage is wearing on him." "He nearly collapsed shortly after we arrived in this Dimension, as well." Loask pointed out. "Is there anything you can do for him?" Chipek chittered in agitation. "All that can be done is restoration of the continuum. He is in a comatose state from which he will not be likely to return as long as the Defiant displacement persists. Further damage to the continuum could cease him entirely." "Challenger's crew responded affirmatively to the mission." Kinton said. "They have entered the Sol system without resistance. Perhaps they will suceed in time." "They must." Loask replied, looking down at Rubik morbidly. "Or we could all be just as doomed." * * * * On the Bridge of the true Rubikon, Dr. Setik was receiving disturbing new readings from his station. He glanced up at the image of Challenger on the viewer before opening the interphasic commlink to Dimension 13. "Lieutenant Kinton, Setik reporting, there is a problem." "There are many problems, Doctor." Kinton responded. The comm contained more static than usual. "What is it now?" Setik shifted his mass anxiously. "Continuum instability continues to grow. All interphasic links are now starting to weaken." "Meaning what, Doctor?" Kinton paused before asking in an apprehensive tone. "Meaning your crew... and Challenger's crew may not remain in Dimension 13 much longer." Setik looked around at the rest of the technicians on the Bridge. They all had their attention focused on him, their eyes showing that they weren't pleased at the news. With the continuum damage approaching catastrophic levels, they all knew that Challenger's crew was their last hope. Kinton's silence echoed his uncertainty, heightened without the guidance of his commanding officer. "There is no telling what may happen if the interphasic links are snapped. The most common case, they will simply be switched back. But if too many of them return prematurely, the rest may be numbered too few to complete the mission, not to mention the resistance they would face from returning Dimension 13 counterparts." * * * * Loask looked across the prone Rubik at Kinton. "They could switch back now?! This becomes further precarious. We should launch an assault on Defiant, now. We have two ships here, and we could gather more." Kinton's eyes narrowed and he chittered. "There would be no chance of success, even if we entered the Sol system under cloak." "If we focus our efforts on Defiant and ignore all other targets, including resistance, we *may* be able to destroy the ship. It would still leave the data on the surface, but destroying Defiant would at least secure us more time." "Such a course could *take* more time than it would secure." Kinton looked from his comatose commanding officer to Loask. "No... as much as it pains me to admit it, we must put our trust and our hopes in the Humans. They are the only ones who can pull this off." The doubt was evident in Loask's unwavering stare. Kinton frowned deeply and continued. "But we will proceed to the Sol system... just in case they fail..."

"Call me crazy, but this mission is actually starting to look like it could work out alright. We've gotten clearance to the targets, and if the plans are as workable as the science and engineering teams are confident, we shouldn't have any problems completing our objectives. "Everyone on my team is excited about the prospect of exploring future-ship... but now that we're on approach, I find myself disappointed. From out here, it looks like nothing more than an oversized child's toy. And it looks like one big aerodynamic nightmare, to be honest. Not like something from one hundred years in the future at all. But then, the engineering of the next century may simply be outside our comprehension. I wonder if the interior will look just as unremarkable? Nah, that's probably where the sophisticated technology crops up. I imagine their computers utilize a fancy holo-imaging interface, or something impressive like that. "We can't get ourselves too wrapped up in studying the ship, of course, since we have our mission to perform. We're still relying on our cover, so we have to wait for confirmation that the science team has delivered the virus on the surface before we take out the ship. That will give us time to check out the ship's systems and make some mental notes to bring back home, but we'll have to be poised to overload its core when the time is right. We've even brought one of the doctors along, and I'm sure the ship's archives are overflowing with valuable medical information, but he has to be just as aware as the rest of us that the mission comes first. We've also got security--in case something happens that I really hope does *not* happen."

Primer is updated

"SHIFT CHANGE DELTA!" When the booming voice echoed through the corridors of the USS Defiant, the clockwork routine of the past eight hours shifted with remarkable suddenness. The MACO's came to complete halts on their standard patrol routes, almost on exactly the same spots they occupied when shift change occured twenty-four hours prior. They all turned and marched down the now memorized paths to the nearest turbolifts. At each corridor junction along the way, two or three would meet up and continue the march together, their steps perfectly synchronized, their gazes locked forward. These groups parted and hugged the walls to make way for the groups coming toward them (Beta Shift MACO's who would relieve them of patrol duty and Alpha Shift MACO's heading to the shuttle bays to relieve Beta Shift of fighter duty). No one was left behind when each group reached its respective turbolift, for they all realized that anyone left behind would be severely disciplined. The MACO's huddled into the lifts, and the second officers among each group stepped aside to pull the handle and designate one of the decks from three to six before stepping right back into formation. They all waited with absolute stillness until the turbolift doors opened. In perfect sync, they emerged onto the appropriate decks and continued their march. Two by two, the members of the groups turned and parted from their comrades at each of the doors they passed. Finally, only one of each group remained and he came face to face with the last remaining member of the group that had entered the corridor from the opposite direction. These two turned to the final door and stepped inside, leaving the corridor absolutely still and quiet. Absolutely no alteration, down to the slightest details, from the standard that had been established by their superior officers. It was the daily routine of the Imperial Guard's Falcon Company, and it had been utterly perfected. Colonel Asmodeus Hard was the one who'd perfected it. Falcon Company's commanding officer emerged from the central turbolift and stepped onto the Defiant Bridge to take over his sixteen-hour command shift. He was a tall man, though not a giant, he boasted an impressive physique, without being too bulky, and his face was an almost complete square under a neatly combed and parted mane of blonde hair. The face itself was no image of perfection, marred as it was by countless battle scars, but the scars aided his reputation as an extraordinary threat force. His command ability was focused in his deep black eyes. Few could meet Colonel Hard's piercing gaze for more than five seconds before flinching or looking away. He was as disciplined as a panther on the prowl, but this did not mean he was immune to anger. Anyone, foes and even subordinates, getting on his bad side would be introduced to fits of rage that had already resulted in the deaths of countless individuals, foes and even subordinates. He was a legend among the MACO's, an entire Imperial Guard company unto himself. It was when he spoke that the problems arose. "Lieutenant Connor." He directed a voice reminiscent of old film reel icon Mickey Mouse at the Delta Shift commander. The higher ranking of his men had gotten used to holding back their laughter at hearing the voice (at least until they were well out of his sight). But more than a few ill-prepared and poorly-disciplined Privates had been either ejected out of airlocks or broken at the spine for failing to control themselves. Hard did not pursue the military life until his late teens, and speculation was rampant (though whispered well out of the earshot of the officers) that the Colonel drove himself to be a killing machine to make up for his obvious verbal shortcoming. "Sir!" Connor had lifted himself from the Captain's chair as soon as he heard the turbolift doors open. He saluted the Colonel. "All platoons have reported shift change without incident. I am prepared to relieve command of Defiant at your order." "You are so relieved, Lieutenant." Hard answered, in his loud, though reedy voice. A brief snorting noise emerged from behind him, and both officers turned their attention to the turbolift. To the right side of the lift, a young Private standing guard had his hand cupped over his mouth. When he realized he was being watched, he quickly dropped his hand and returned it to his back, though the last vestige of a smile was clearly being forced off of his face. With one smooth motion, Hard pulled his plasma pistol from its holster, pointed it at the Private's chest, and fired. The Private on the left side of the lift flinched and struggled to hold back a look of terror. Hard looked back at Connor. "Have that cleaned up. And request a replacement from headquarters. Dismissed!" "Aye, sir." Connor saluted once more and crossed over to the lift, all too eager to get as far away from the Bridge as possible. Hard took his seat at the center of the Bridge and flipped on the shipwide comm switch. "COMMENCE ALPHA SHIFT!" Below decks, the corridor patrols picked up once again; outside the ship, the fighter crafts began their circling maneuvers; and within the safety of the crew quarters, pairs of Privates laughed openly at the comm.

"My head is still killing me. According to the doctors, I suffered a concussion. Well, at least, this other body I'm sitting inside suffered a concussion. No one knows how, exactly, but considering how barbaric this ISS Challenger's crew appears in the logs, I assume that the 'other Elias' had something smashed over his head by a crewmate. Hell, that's not even out of the question back home; I *was* punched in the face by the medical chief my first day on Venture. In any event, the doctors have suggested that I avoid any strenuous activity, but I can't exactly be out of the job right now. "We're deep in the heart of Terran Empire space on a mission given to us by the Tholians. Now I don't even know what the hell a Tholian is, but word is they look like oversized dilithium crystals with eyes, and I find this to at least be consistent with current circumstances. Apparently, they've captured the real, genuine, no-strings-or-agony-booths-attached Challenger, and they've got our real, genuine, concussion-free bodies in some kind of stasis. The fact that I'm millions of inter-dimensional kilometers away from my body and that some walking dilithium crystal can do whatever he wants with it disturbs me. But unless we play along with their asinine mission, we'll never be returned home. "The plans submitted by science look good--overload Future-Ship's warp core and hax0r Palace-of-Evil's computer. Actually getting inside Future-Ship and Palace-of-Evil are the problems the Commodore and I have to work on. Our ticket appears to be none other than 'Prime Minister' Neptune Rex, an even more pompous version of our old operations officer. I wonder if there's actually a colony on Neptune in this reality and if Mr. Rex has actually been involved in the ruthless domination of its people. Wouldn't surprise me... but that's beside the point. This Rex is expecting some sort of 'gift' from us, and if we can figure out whatever the hell it is he's talking about, we may be able to buy passage to the Palace and Future-Ship. "In completely unrelated news... I'm still wondering about the being of light I witnessed while dying in Sickbay. Granted, the combination of lethal doses of radiation and a concussion of 5.3 on the Richter scale has the potential to make someone a tad delusional. But there was a sense of familiarity with this being of light, as if it was something very near to me, that made it seem more than simple hallucination. I've never believed in angels, but I never believed in God before my apparent close encounter with Him last year. Recently, I'd been starting to believe that that encounter *was* just a product of all the stress that had been built up through the Challenger construction phase. But now there's this being of light, and the familiarity I felt conjured up the very same sensations I felt when God spoke to me. The 'angel' said something to me, but I can't quite recall what it was. My subpsyche is telling me it was either 'you can't die, fool' or 'don't worry, Elias, I'm protecting you'... an angel probably would have said the latter. I'm still not sure what to believe, but considering how high the odds are stacked against us on this mission I can find some comfort in the knowledge that an angel is watching over me."

I just use the "view new posts" option every time I log in, keeps it nice and clear. And there's always the "search" option when you want to look for posts. Problem with a Sticky thread is that Sticky threads aren't always given immediate attention by posters, and every time a player comes along and starts a new "Hi" thread you'd get a lot of "read the Sticky's!" which we don't need. :P

The console is activated, revealing a vivid blue swirl surrounding a vague shape highlighted by two pinpoints of light. The shape moves slowly and erratically as a deep voice emerges from the speakers. "Commodore Moose, I regret that we could not meet in person. I am Rubik, Subcommander in the Tholian Assembly Fleet and commanding officer of the ACS Rubikon, the primary support vessel of the Directorate of Interdimensional Affairs and the flagship of the Directorate fleet. "You have no doubt been informed by your chief engineer of the circumstances of your arrival in Dimension 13 and the mission which you must undertake to preserve the integrity of the space-time continuum. We have transferred to this ship's computer supplemental information that will be vital to the completion of your mission. "The tactical data is of utmost importance. The Sol system of Dimension 13 is a veritable fortress which will admit no 'sub-Human' that is not under tight Imperial control. This is of no concern to your crew, of course. But these Humans take no chances, and they fear the enemy within as surely as the forces diverted against them from outside. Both the USS Defiant and the Imperial Palace are well guarded. "Review the tactical overlays provided. Defiant maintains a synchronous orbit directly above the Imperial Palace. At all times, short range fighter crafts surround the vessel at a cautious range, providing the Empress' cherished prize with ample protection. They can strike swiftly, they can strike hard, and they will allow no vessel to breach their perimeter without clearance granted directly by the Empress' staff. A frontal assault on Defiant would be foolish and would result in even this impressive vessel's prompt obliteration. "At all times, Defiant's corridors are patrolled by agents of the Imperial Guard, the Empress' own private contingent of MACO warriors. They are among the finest of their organization. They protect the vessel from internal sabotage and keep the technicians studying its technology in line. Their chief standing order is to seek and eradicate anyone boarding the vessel without proper clearance. They do their jobs well. "Blueprints of the Imperial Palace are included within. No expense was spared in its construction. It is equal parts mansion and stronghold. The finest of the Imperial Guard patrol its halls. The central computer of the Terran Empire is at the heart of a vast network of catacombs beneath the Palace. The blueprints include the layout of these catacombs. The Imperial civilization relies heavily on its central computer. To destroy or otherwise render nonfunctional this computer would result in greater damage to the continuum. I stress again that you must target only the data that has been extrapolated from Defiant. "The bodies you now occupy are meaningless. Should you or any of your crew die in this Dimension, you would return immediately to your own bodies, alive. But as your own bodies are currently imprisoned in Tholian stasis crystals, I would advise you to ensure mission completion before succumbing to such an end. Successful completion of the mission free of further damage to the continuum will be the only means of your release. "Do not fail." The image fades, leaving a blank screen.

Nice avatar! ;) Though if you really wanted to go all out, you could change the title to "nothing heavy explosives and a trusty plasma rifle can't fix"

Elias could barely crawl across the floor of Sickbay. His skin still tingled as the Engineering crew's attempts to irradiate the "invaders" warred with the Sickbay crew's attempts to innoculate themselves. The radiation was burning his insides and heightening the effects of his latent concussion; his ears rang and his senses swirled. Worst of all was the biting cold. Clearly, life support to Sickbay had been cut off. Lack of breathable air was no problem with the aid of the oxygen masks, but the heat in Sickbay was quickly dispersing... and the air pressure was only just beginning to drop. Killed by his own crew. In the blur ahead, Elias saw a shape that vaguely resembled Lieutenant Westler stumble through the Sickbay doors. He continued his crawling, trying to follow, but his stiffening joints were complying only with the utmost reluctance. He was not even sure what sanctuary awaited outside of Sickbay. His lungs were stinging, a combination of the cold and the radioactive assault. The oxygen from his mask offered no comfort, as he was hardly capable of breathing it anymore. Killed by his own commanding officer. Deep in his now loosely cognizant mind, Elias held onto the slim hope that this was all a dream... rather, a nightmare. He couldn't remember arriving in this supposed "parallel universe," nor could he recall his last experience in his own reality. It had all the makings of the deepest dream he'd ever experienced. On the other hand, he'd always been a lucid dreamer, able to wake himself up if there was even the slightest suspicion that he was dreaming. Urgency enhanced this ability, and if he wasn't dreaming he was dying, simple as that. "Keep fighting, my little Elias. You can't die." Elias looked up and tried to focus his swirling vision. Standing above him was a figure wreathed in light. He couldn't make out its features, but on either side of it were large strands of brighter light flapping up and down, possibly wings. A soft harp-strung tune played in his ears. He had the unmistakable feeling that he was recalling something... that he couldn't quite recall... "I said you can't die, fool!" The figure said in a more annoyed tone. "Stop staring at me, get off the floor, and do something!" Elias reached for the angelic figure, but he could barely lift his arm. He felt his life... or his consciousness... maybe both... fading. "Ugh!" The figure gasped. "You're just as difficult to motivate as Picard. Maybe it's just as well the bloodline is erased." Elias' head dropped to the Sickbay floor and darkness began to overtake him. What remained of his senses focused on the only sound remaining in Sickbay, the hiss of the anesthezine gas that continued to pour through the vents. When all else faded, the hiss was his entire reality. "With a whisper... not a bang..." was all Elias could manage before he passed out yet again...

"We have a problem." Loask said to Rubik as he released the Force Shackles from his three comrades. Rubik, still recovering his senses from the interphasic transfer, merely waited for Loask to continue. "I've managed to pinpoint the last of the ISS Challenger's officers... but the technicians have reported a computer malfunction back on our Rubikon." "Malfunction?!" Bellowed Kinton, whose younger body could better handle the transfer. "We had precautionary diagnostics run on those systems at least five times!" "Yes," Loask replied. "But the interphasic calculations take a toll on the hardware. A system failure was almost inevitable." "What are we facing," Rubik asked. "And how long before the system is repaired?" "Right now, they can't transfer anyone." Loask answered gravely. "There are six officers yet to be transferred, including their commander. The technicians can not indicate with any accuracy how long it will take to correct the malfunction." Rubik stepped over to the center of the Dimension 13 Rubikon's Bridge and gave it a lookover. It looked nearly the same as his own Rubikon, but there were subtle differences immediately noticeable to anyone as intimately familiar with the ship as he was. There were flaws all around--mostly of the 'cut-corner' variety, easily missed by an untrained eye, but indicating that the ship was constructed more quickly and with more urgency. It was a ship constructed for survival against a ruthless empire. For Rubik, whose knowledge of starship design was extensive, it was a profile of the Dimension 13 Tholians. They were a people cornered. Cornered creatures tended to fight with more ferocity, it was said... but they also tended to make more costly mistakes. Rubik looked at the external viewer at the top of the Bridge. The ISS Challenger was displayed, the stars in the background streaking past. "So we are delayed... and we get closer to Imperial space." He sighed. "There is another problem." Loask said. "The remaining officers are aware that humans from another dimension are on their ship. There has been extensive violence between the two sides, and each has barricaded itself in a separate part of the ship. There could be many lives lost before we are able to complete the transfers." "That would be a serious setback." Rubik agreed. "Shall we intervene?" Kinton asked. Rubik considered this option silently, but he was fuming inwardly. Humans were simply insufferable. Plans could be outlined with every angle covered, mechanical problems along the way could be resolved, but to have to involve the Humans... the volatile, unpredictable, hot-headed Humans... was the real difficulty of the project. "We will not. Our presence could only serve to excite these hostilities further." "We wait for the technicians to repair the computer, then?" Kinton asked. Rubik nodded. "And hope that the Humans can resolve their differences... with a minimum of bloodshed..."

M.O.O.R.E.: Machine Optimized for Online Repair and Exploration Works for me.

Elias stared at the bottle of whiskey on the countertop in Sickbay. The sounds of a riot echoed in from the corridor outside the bay, but within there was only silence and solitude. The bottle's eyes opened and fixed on the stationary first officer. "Drink me." It instructed simply. Elias shook his head. "No. Not again. Not this time." "C'mon, drink me!" The bottle commanded with a growl. "Mwahahahaha!" A sharp pain shot through Elias' head. He tried to bring his hand up to the wound he sustained at the end of Adams' rifle, but it would not comply. The bottle stared expectantly at him. "Alright, alright!" Elias snapped and grabbed the bottle, his hand only too eager to cooperate now. He unscrewed the top and took five generous gulps of the whiskey. Before he could even bring the bottle down, his head throbbed angrily and Sickbay became a haze. He was only vaguely aware that everything around him--the beds, the consoles, the instruments, the cabinets--was getting remarkably larger... or was he getting remarkably smaller? The bottle simply laughed at him. Elias found himself keeled over on the Sickbay floor. The rioting outside had quieted, but there was a new sound now, a strange sound... a scratching sound. Elias looked around at the Sickbay storage cabinets, which now towered high above him. The scratching was coming from inside. He reached up to open the closest cabinet, ignoring a distant female voice that was compelling him to stop. He swung aside the door and looked in at the predatory face of a gigantic feline. It was the cat that T'Parek had brought on board... but it was almost twice his size. Elias stared back only long enough to watch the cat lick its chops hungrily before he darted out of Sickbay as fast as his apparently smaller legs could carry him. The sounds of a dozen cabinet doors bursting open followed him. The corridor was ridiculously large, stretching on and on with no end, but the menacing sound of stamping paws drove Elias forward. He did not even take a single glance back, but he knew that every cat on board the ship was chasing him. He passed several doors along the way, potential refuge from the tireless pursuit, but he was too small to reach the access panels. The corridor suddenly opened to a deep vertical shaft. Elias had no time to react to the sudden change and he fell forward. He grabbed the floor of the corridor on the way down, cutting short a potentially perilous descent, but he now hung helplessly. Soon, the ravenous felines would be above him. Elias looked down the shaft. The sound of the ship's warp core was down there, humming in perfect sync with the throbbing of his head, but he saw only a bright light. He had no idea what it could be, but his heart told him that it was dangerous. He looked up and saw the sneering faces of the cats, now back to normal size. They began to bite at his fingers, daring him to loosen his grip and plummet to certain death. "Look at yourself, Elias!" A deep male voice echoed throughout the shaft, a voice that Elias immediately recognized. "Look what you've gotten yourself into!" "Oh God, not you!" Elias shouted, struggling to maintain his grip despite the gnawing at his fingers. "No matter how hard I tried to raise you right, you always screw up. You'll never be able to live up to my image." "To hell with your image!" Elias bellowed with rage. His fingers were beginning to slip. "I never wanted to be an engineer in the first place! I wanted to be a scientist, like my mother. But you manipulated me... designed me... like another one of your projects! And you blamed me when the final product wasn't what you expected! Well, you weren't so perfect either, damn you!" "I expect that sort of tone from you. Hopefully your sister will turn out to be a more responsible officer. She knew something about obedience." "Obedience?!" Elias howled incredulously. "Like you were obedient to my mother?! Sleeping around with every piece of tail that worked for you?!" "Don't blame me for the divorce, Elias. How much more appropriate would it be to point such an accusation at yourself? Your insistence on leaving home and going out into deep space tore our family apart and you know it!" "Ah, I hate you!" Elias' fingers finally gave in to the persistent nibbling and slipped away from their lifehold. He fell, spiraling sickeningly, for what seemed an eternity. The light at the bottom of the shaft engulfed him and he was blinded... Elias became aware that hands on his shoulders were shaking him vigorously. The image of Lieutenant Giovanni's face slowly came into focus in front of him. "Commander?! Hello? Can you hear me?" Elias realized that he was staring straight ahead at the science chief. The pain in his head was beginning to subside and his vision was clearing. He glanced around and noted that he was still sitting on his biobed in Sickbay. He must have spaced out momentarily. Several officers were assembled in Sickbay, many huddled in urgent discussion. There were guards gathered around the entrance and a few unconscious crew were being dragged onto biobeds. A nurse was running a scanner over his head. "Commander, the crew from the other universe is assembled in Engineering. It looks as if they're going to launch an attack on us." Elias looked back at Sergio and took a moment to recall what was happening. He remembered hearing something about parallel dimensions. He also remembered being shot by Lieutenant Westler, at the Commodore's order, and the pain in his head flaring as the phase weapon's stun took effect. There was clearly a rift in the crew... a rift between officers that he was familiar with and alternate copies with more aggression and less common sense. The rift was coming to a head, but Elias' head was imply not in it. Before Elias could respond, the vents around Sickbay began to hiss. Everyone looked up and realized that they were being gassed...

Moose? Qui-Gon is a bit too serious. Moose would either be Obi Wan or Yoda. Going against the law of self-nomination, I'll say Sovak. ;)

The equipment attached to the crystal behind Challenger's communications console buzzed and crackled and the radiance within intensified. Subcommander Rubik and his staff stood around the terminal observing the process. "Our readings show that Dimension 13 Krasner's life force is fading." The Bridge technician looked up from his pad at Rubik. "He may be on the verge of death." "You said that would not a problem, correct?" Rubik asked. "If Dimension 13 Krasner dies, this one will return unharmed?" The technician nodded affirmation just before the flash of the interphasic transfer filled the Bridge and the crystal's equipment fell silent. "That is six now." The technician said. "Ten of their officers remain. Then there are the crewmen. Are you certain you do not want to transfer them?" "The crewmen of Dimension 13 are nothing short of enlisted slaves." Kinton pointed out. "They will do their duties and take little notice of the affairs of the officers. We do not have the time to switch all of them." As if in response to Kinton's statement, the technician's pad chirped with a message from Rubik's ship. "An urgent report from Loask. The ISS Challenger's mission to Cait is finished and they are preparing to return to Earth." "Then our time is even shorter." Rubik said. His eyes turned to the technician. "Your people must work with haste. Complete the switches before the ISS Challenger reaches Imperial space." "Are we leaving?" Kinton asked. Rubik turned to his second in command. "Yes. We must now proceed to Dimension 13 ourselves. Notify the ship to prepare our interphasic chambers. We will return before--" Before Rubik could finish, a wave trickled throughout his entire body, the features of his crystalline carapace fluctuating in an illusionary fashion and the shimmering pinpoints of his eyes phasing in and out. The Tholian stumbled back a step and his two aides rushed forward to support him just as the distortion ceased. The technician stared gravely at his commander. "The continuum damage is becoming more severe. I would advise against transferring to Dimension 13." "We must!" Rubik responded weakly as he attempted to regain his composure. "It is the only way. The mission must proceed. You have your instructions, I expect them to be carried out in my absence." * * * * Loask watched the blip representing the ISS Challenger on the terminal at the head of the ACS Rubikon. Challenger was still orbitting the planet Cait, but the two officers remaining on the surface had just transported back to the ship with two Caitian prisoners. It looked as if the crew's business on Cait was concluded. They still appeared utterly oblivious to the presence of the cloaked Tholian striker just inside the system's edge. Loask's eyes turned to the right side of the Bridge, where Rubik, Kinton, and Frene were huddled together, restrained by Force Shackles, shimmering blue rings of energy that surrounded each prisoner's midsection. He had to remind himself that these were not the Tholian crewmates to whom his loyalty was owed; these were their Dimension 13 counterparts, and they were clearly not pleased with the mutiny launched by their tactical officer. "I demand you tell me what this is about, Loask!" Rubik commanded threateningly. He tried to reach an arm forward, but a crackle of energy shot from his Force Shackle and pushed it back. The Tholian chirped angrily. "What *are* these abominable things?!" "They are called Force Shackles. They are not lethal, but I advise that you keep still if you do not want to experience the pain of 'punishment.'" Loask turned his attention back to the tactical station. "As for my mission, I can not say... in part, because it would be a comprimise of security, but also because you would never believe me if I told you whose authority I'm acting under." "I will not tolerate these games, Loask!" Rubik's body trembled with rage, eliciting several shocks from the Force Shackle that only served to heighten his agitation. "When I am free of this infernal contraption, I will crush you into dust!" Loask paid no attention, as he was observing what he had been expecting--Challenger breaking from orbit and exiting the system. With a quick tap of the console, he instructed the Rubikon to pursue, still under cloak. He scurried over to the left side of the Bridge, where his interphase computer was set up--a large red crystal with a computer terminal clamped to one of its facets and a white light pulsating within, a low level interphasic rift suitable only for data transfer. He tapped the attached terminal, transmitting a report of Challenger's departure back to the "real" Rubik, who would likely be coming to Dimension 13 as soon as he received the news. Six eyes at the right side of the Bridge watched Loask anxiously. They had already seen feats of almost magical proportion pulled off by their once timid comrade and they could only wonder what was yet to come. "You had better start speaking!" Rubik demanded. "What is that thing and where did it come from? What are you up to, Loask?" "Ah, Commander." Loask replied, his eyes still focused on the crystal. "I feel obligated to warn you that you are soon going to be experiencing the rather uncomfortable sensation of an interphasic shift. The sensation can best be described as your very life force being removed from your body and thrust through a corridor of pure white light at a dizzying speed. Having experienced it myself, I apologize in advance." Several electric sizzles from behind him notified Loask that Rubik was again struggling angrily against his shackles. His attention, however, was on new information being displayed by the crystal's access terminal. Its scanners had managed to pick up the quantum signature of another Challenger crew member. Cross-referencing with entries from Challenger's computer, it displayed the relevant information--Matt Vank, Ensign, Security officer, in stable condition, emotionally agitated as if eager to commit violence. Loask compiled the information and relayed it to the technicians for the transfer. One step closer to completion. But Loask was faced with the realization that Challenger was headed toward Earth, Rubikon right behind her. This was not a comforting thought. He knew that the Terran Empire didn't play nice with Tholians and everything counted on Challenger remaining well outside Imperial territory until the crew switches were complete...

Elias woke up, thankful that the bad dream was over. For, certainly, his ordeals in the transporter room and in Sickbay had been part of a strange dream. He had felt dazed and disoriented the whole way through, typical of a dream. Also typical of a concussion suffered from a rifle butt to the head... but all the changes he had observed, more than the feelings he had experienced, could only have been the stuff of fantasy. He imagined he'd have quite a bit of fun looking up the symbolism of the dream--where, for instance, the subconscious desire to beat the living hell out of Ensign Adams came from... and whether the goatee represented some primal masculine urge he was suppressing or a need to integrate more fiber into his diet. But it was as soon as Elias rubbed his eyes and sat up that he realized something was still awry... namely, that he could neither sit up nor rub his eyes on account of the biobed straps still holding down his arms and legs. He struggled against the straps for a moment before remembering that this was exactly how the strange dream had ended. With this thought came the realization that either the dream had, in fact, *not* ended or what was, in fact, *not* a dream was merely continuing. When a nurse came to the side of his biobed wearing a uniform that drifted dangerously close to being a bikini, he elected to believe that he was still dreaming. Before Elias could take in more of his surroundings and further affirm this belief (quite a long time since his gaze had difficulty departing from the nurse), he passed out again.

Darth Sidious! Better known as The Emperor. Where's the love for Mr. Wrinkle? ;)