Stardate: 2374.09.05
The Charon – Bridge – 22:19 hours
“Captain?” Talon began, “you think it could be the Romulans? Maybe they sabotaged the ship?”

“There is nothing to indicate that the Romulans had anything to do with…this. Hell, there’s nothing indicating what happened.” Captain Gavison replied.

“We go in with our eyes wide open, people. We find out where Mac and his crew are, and we bring them home. Make sure that weapons are fully operational, Talon. Mr. Kato, I want our scanners tested in full. Science is going to likely be performing both long range, and short range scans of various types. The Cerberus has vanished from Starfleet sensors…Whatever caused that will be our responsibility to uncover.”
Talon nodded to the Captains orders, “All weapons systems are functional Captain. When we get there we will be ready for anything.” He added with a tone of finality. The Captain may have an open mind, but the Lyran still distrusted the Romulans and having spent time in battle with the Captain he was sure the same thoughts were running through his head.


Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 12:08 hours
The view screen showed the black, emptiness of space with all too much reflection of Kelsey’s insides. Where is she? he wondered as he peered out into the inky blackness. This region of space seemed particularly empty for the lack of the Cerberus.

“Talk to me, people,” Kelsey intoned in a voice that was nearly a growl. “What are the long range scans telling us? Where’s Mac?”
“Phaser systems are charged and ready. Torpedoes loaded and ready. Shields at maximum.” Talon said, waiting on the Science officer’s report on the long range sensors. He didn’t wait for the Captain to tell him to go to Red Alert, he had signaled all tactical crews to ready weapons and stand by. It never hurt to be prepared and ready.

Stardate 2374.09.06 - 1220 hours
ASRV-83964:E-001, deployed from USS Cerberus
At first, Duncan couldn't believe his eyes or his ears. The events of the past half-day flashed through his mind as he tried to determine if he had truly gone insane at some point, and was just now experiencing delusions and hallucinations.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first little while after the disaster, there had been very little talk or activity in the crowded escape pod. For the most part, the survivors seemed to be in their own worlds, dealing with the loss of their crewmates and their ship in their own way. Duncan had heard quiet sobbing, muttered curses, murmured prayers and subdued conversations at different points, but silence virtually ruled the cramped confines of their ASRV for a while.

For his part, Duncan had spent a while drowning in the blackest depths of horror and despair. The faces of all those he had loved and lost passed before his mind's eye, seeming to silently accuse him, to mock him. Survivor's guilt plagued his thoughts, as the Cerberus' last few seconds of life played over and over in his head like a broken recording. If only I hadn't been off the bridge when it started. If only I had tried harder to get the core to eject. If only I had been able to get a forcefield around it. If only I had stayed at my post instead of running for the pods, I might have had enough time to transport it away from the ship. If only I had died with her...
It took a stern rebuke from MacTavish to get Duncan on a more productive track and start thinking of someone besides himself. Everyone had suffered a grievous loss this day; he didn't have the monopoly on pain; but what he did have was a responsibility to the survivors to do everything he could to improve their chances of rescue, and he had a responsibilty to the dead to find out exactly what had happened to the doomed ship, and why.

He began by rerouting power to the automated distress beacon. The stronger he could make the signal, the farther away someone could pick it up and hopefully find the handful of bedraggled survivors. With an emergency tool kit and some creative wriggling behind some of the other crewpeople, he removed access panels and hotwired various bits of circuitry. It took some time, some cursing, and some complaints from the others, but he was finally able to boost the beacon's power by enough to get the signal out an additional two million kilometers. In this sparse region of space that was a very small thimblefull in a very large bucket, but it was something.

Next, Duncan boosted the communication systems using power packs from the hand phasers stored in the wall hatches. After more cursing and creative yoga exercises to get to the circuitry he had to access, he had augmented their communications range by half a light year. Again, not a huge boost, and it wouldn't take long for the power packs to die, but at least it was getting out farther than the distress signal.

Leaving the others to try to reach help over the com system, Duncan found a PADD and downloaded the Cerberus' logs to to it so he could review them. Like the "black boxes" on ancient aircraft, the ASRVs downloaded a complete copy of their mother ship's sensor and telemetry data, so that in the event that a pod was found, bearing survivors or not, someone would have a record of what happened. The data was identical to that which was downloaded into unmanned log buoys and jettisoned into space when a ship was destroyed.

To say he was shocked and enraged at what he found would be a supreme understatement. After carefully poring over the sensor data and reviewing the Engineering logs, he found a disturbing amount of information indicating that the loss of the warp core's ejection system, the failure of the emergency containment systems, the malfunction of the ship's main distress signal, and the initiation of the overload itself all pointed to more than just a mechanical problem. With all the safeguards built into Starfleet technology, there was no way that such simultaneous systems failure was a coincidence.

As he reviewed the Engineering telemetry from the moment the overload started, something strange caught his eye. Erratic power fluctuations that could not have occurred naturally began at the exact same instant that antimatter flow became irregular in the intermix chamber. He vaguely remembered seeing something similar in the Enterprise-D's logs. He pondered it for quite a while, and it suddenly hit him with the force of a punch. Nanites!
He felt an icy chill course through him as he realized what it meant. This was no accident. Someone sabotaged the Cerberus!

In that instant of realization, Duncan felt very alone. He had no way of knowing who had done this horrible thing. The nanites could have been introduced into the system from virtually anywhere on the ship that had access to the main computer. And worse, nanites were known to have a very limited operational life, so they had to have been set loose by someone after the Cerberus left Starbase 10, which meant it was someone on the ship! All the death, all the destruction, all the pain...was because of a traitor!
Suddenly unsure of who could be trusted, Duncan was unwilling to share this horrifying revelation with anyone other than MacTavish. And the current situation made such a vital disclosure of information impossible. Furthermore, Duncan wanted incontrovertible proof before he presented the captain with such a damning allegation. He tried to keep the alarm he felt from showing as he squirmed his way back to the main console, intending to download more detailed data to back up what he already knew to be true.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As he looked at the board before him, Duncan suddenly saw a return echo from the distress signal indicated on the screen. At that instant, the computer voice spoke up, and that is the instant at which he questioned his own sanity; maybe despair, rage, and suspicion had taken their toll.

=/\\= Incoming vessel detected. Starfleet transponder signature detected. =/\\=

Everyone in the cramped pod sat up straight as Duncan quickly reviewed the information on the screen. It didn't take him long to realize that he wasn't imagining things. Despite the chilling revelation he had just unearthed, Duncan couldn't contain the excitement in his voice as he turned to MacTavish.

"By God, they found us, sir! It's the Charon!"

Stardate: 2374.09.05
USS Charon – Lt. Cmdr. Kato 3’s Quarters - 22:18 hours
“This is Captain Gavison. Report to your stations. We are leaving berth. I repeat: report to your stations immediately. The Charon will be under way in less than fifteen minutes, or I’ll skin the man holding me up.”
Lt. Cmdr. Kato 3 sprung up from his bunk, throwing on his Starfleet uniform and proudly donning his Eminian command sash before exiting his quarters. As he headed down the hall, his mind began to wander - so what they say about the Charon is true…this is an emergency if I’ve ever heard one.
And judging by the Charon’s reputation, an emergency would probably be very bad news.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
USS Charon – Bridge - 22:19 hours
Kato 3 stepped onto the bridge from the turbolift; he hadn’t had the time yet to truly to get a feel for the bridge, nor had he assumed his position at his station yet. Now was as good a time as any to learn. He breathed in the surroundings, pausing for a minute, then snapped out of it as Talon stepped off the turbolift after him. He quickly made it to his console as Captain Gavison began his briefing.

“Our sister ship in this mission has gone missing, and we’re going to find her,” he began over the intraship communications. “As of 15:17 hours this afternoon, the Cerberus was reported missing. There has been no communication from her, or any of her crew, since. This ship is now in yellow alert and will remain so until further notice.”

Ending his broadcast, Kel looked over his senior staff. “I don’t know what awaits us when we get there, so be on your game.”
Kato 3 nodded to himself at the Captain’s orders. An entire Starship missing? This mission would be more dangerous than Kato had imagined. Whatever could happen to the Cerberus could happen to the Charon. Of course, this didn’t deter him, but it did change his frame of mind…

“Warp six, Lt. Mas’Riat.”

Mas'Riat nodded once. "Engaging, Captain," she replied.

“Captain?” Talon began, “you think it could be the Romulans? Maybe they sabotaged the ship?”

“There is nothing to indicate that the Romulans had anything to do with…this. Hell, there’s nothing indicating what happened.” Captain Gavison replied.
“If I may interject, Captain,” Kato said, turning to Lt. Cmdr. Talon. “I don’t think that the Romulans have a motive for such an act. And if the security on the Cerberus is half as dilligent as you the security you had planned for the Romulans here on the Charon, I doubt that they’d be able to pull off a stunt of such magnitude…” He looked to the Captain once more.

“We go in with our eyes wide open, people. We find out where Mac and his crew are, and we bring them home. Make sure that weapons are fully operational, Talon. Mr. Kato, I want our scanners tested in full. Science is going to likely be performing both long range, and short range scans of various types. The Cerberus has vanished from Starfleet sensors…Whatever caused that will be our responsibility to uncover.”

Talon nodded to the Captains orders, “All weapons systems are functional Captain. When we get there we will be ready for anything.”
“Aye, sir” Kato 3 answered. “I’ll get right on it. Wherever the Cerberus is, whatever became of her, we’ll find out. I promise you that, sir.”

Stardate: 2374.09.05
The Charon – Science Lab – 23:24 hours
Kato 3 stared into the computer console. He hadn’t formally met his fellow science officers yet, but they were proving to be adequate, despite the fact that there were so few of them. Three others, all lieutenants. What he was told about the USS Charon was true – they certainly kept a skeleton crew. He supposed most of the other officers with experience in the sciences division were probably involved in medical or double-timed as relief engineers. But the only help he had in the lab were three extra hands…

“I think that’s the last recalibration,” Kato said, almost speaking aloud to himself, as everyone else was immersed in work. “I’d like to test the short-range scanners one more time before I feel satisfied.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the other officers said.

Kato 3 leaned over the console, the blue glow illuminating his face as he skimmed through a list of scanning capabilities that the Charon had. “Wait…what’s this here?” he murmured. “Tachyon Detection Grid?”

“Sir?” a voice said. Lt. Edmund Carver approached Kato, standing beside him at the console. “Ah, the TDG. hasn’t been used in ages. We used it to detect Romulan Birds of Prey, but out primary focus has been the Dominion, and the Charon’s hasn’t been used in awhile.”

“Hmm…” Kato 3 muttered, entering a few commands into the computer. “I’m going to recalibrate and update this program,” he said. “We must entertain the possibility that the Cerberus could have been hijacked – if the cloaking device was installed, then it’s almost certain that it would have been cloaked. Once I finish these updates, I’d like to test the grid once or twice.”

“Yes, sir,” Lt. Carver said. “I’ll get right one it.”

“Thank you. May I call you Edmund?”

“Just Ed, sir”

“Thank you, Ed,” Kato said. “If we all push ourselves, we might finish in time to get some sleep tonight, gentlemen.”

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 12:08 hours
The view screen showed the black, emptiness of space with all too much reflection of Kelsey’s insides. Where is she? he wondered as he peered out into the inky blackness. This region of space seemed particularly empty for the lack of the Cerberus.

“Talk to me, people,” Kelsey intoned in a voice that was nearly a growl. “What are the long range scans telling us? Where’s Mac?”

“Phaser systems are charged and ready. Torpedoes loaded and ready. Shields at maximum.”
Lt. Cmdr. Kato 3 was at his computer console, scanning the region of space before them. He addressed Captain Gavison.

“We were burning the midnight oil last night, testing and re-testing the sensor arrays, sir,” he said. “I even recalibrated some of the arrays, especially the ones that haven’t been used in some time. I’m afraid I’m not getting anything sir - nothing of the size of a Federation starship, in any case. However, I did dust off the Tachyon Detection Grid. In the event that the Cerberus was hijacked, or for some reason is cloaked, the TDG should be able to find her. I’ll fire it up now sir…”

Maintaining the long and short-range sensor scans, Kato 3 entered a few commands into his computer console, activating the TD Grid. As the Tachyon Grid scanned the region of space all around them, the air felt as though it was sucked out of the room. The Cerberus couldn’t just be gone; but they all had this horrible feeling in the pits of their stomaches. Kato could feel it – everyone was afraid that the ship had truly vanished.

“The TDG was designed specifically to detect ships with Romulan cloaking devices,” Kato 3 said with a sigh, “I think we can rule out the possibility that the ship was hijacked and cloaked; I’m not getting anything. Maybe if I recalibrate the….wait…”

Kato 3 leaned in closer at his console. “I’m not getting anything as big as a Starship, but there is something on our long-range sensors. Earlier, it was hard to tell from this range whether it was simply space debris, but I’m picking up something now, very small. If I push the short-range sensors with some of the recalibrations I made to them, we should be able to scan the object with more detail..."

He entered a few commands into the console, the short-range sensors focused in on the object.

"It’s definitely mechanical…smaller than a Runabout...or a shuttle. We’re moving closer into range. I’ve got it…it’s…it’s an…”

“An escape pod,” he said.

The sigh of relief they were all waiting for never arrived – an escape pod could only mean one thing.

“I should have known,” he said. “I’ve been looking for larger vessels in the scans; I’ve been searching for the Cerberus. I’m going to adjust the scans to search for more escape pods…Sir...” Kato paused, a smile on his face. “A distress beacon, emanating from the pod. We just moved into its range.

“It has to be Cerberus crewmen, sir,” he concluded. “At least we’ll find out what happened to them…”

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1522 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
Mac wanted nothing more, at this moment, than to rage and rant and ‘slap the ever-luvin’ shyte oota some dumb haggis’s ‘ead,’ as he stared grimly through the escape pod’s viewport and watched the Cerberus come apart. His stomach turned, his teeth grinding and fists clenching, as he realized that too few of the ship’s ASRV’s had even launched for him to hope that even a majority of his crew had survived the explosion and, of those that had managed to clear the hull, he’d seen at least five of the things instantly consumed in the fireball that had, until moments ago, been a brand new Steamrunner.

This shouldnae be, he rolled the thought over and over in his mind, perhaps trying to convince himself that this was all some sort of nightmare, A theng jus’ does no’ ‘appen as this did. Stinks o’ bloody treach’ry an’ sabotage!
His first instinct had been to blame the Romulans, of course, but that lasted only a nanosecond. The Romulans had too much invested, here, and even if he didn’t fully trust them, he was certain that this sort of thing wouldn’t have been their cup of tea. Bring down a Starfleet cruiser with a sneaking decloak and full spread of torpedos, perhaps, but not what could amount to a suicide mission. No, the RSN was entirely too vain to consider such a thing. Besides, each and every one of Sienae’s crew had been monitored close enough to count the pores in their skin from the time they’d boarded; none of them had had the opportunity or the access to have done something like this.

An’ ef et were somethin’ amiss wi’ any o’ Cerberus’ systems, sure tae Chroist, Engineerin’d ‘ave picked up on et an’ mitigated e’re she go’ as far as blowin’, aye? A decade ago, in a situation like this, Mac might have been quick to suspect the ‘last minute replacement’ of key personnel…Cap’n’s expectin’ a CEO wi’ whom ‘e’s familiar an’, when et’s too late ta guff aboot et, get’s another whose s’posedly older’n dairt an’ all bloody ‘ell breaks loose. Aye, s’posin’ all tha’ time jumpin’s made th’ lad wonky… Tell me I’m wrong, Mester Cameron,
Mac’s narrowed eyes glinted as they ticked towards the Chief... The bloke looked absolutely ill, both physically, as if his stomach might empty onto the deck at any moment, and heartsick, as well. Nay, lad, Mac decided almost instantly, this was no’ yer fault… an’ fer th’ luv o’ heath’r an’ haggis dinnae start blubberin’ like Dixon, boy-o.
Jack’s gaze panned over the rest of the officers who shared the pod with him, then. Lt Dixon, when Mac’s eyes met hers, quickly tried to dry her tears and put on a brave face. Ensign Montague was strapped in next to her, looking, much like his chief, as if he couldn’t decide whether to puke, cry, scream, or dance a jig. Then there was Rrowl; the surly Kzinti’s expressions nearly unreadable. If it hadn’t been for the lashing of the CTO’s tail and the half-flattened ears, Mac might’ve missed the fact that the Rug was right pessed at what had happened and, likely was already plotting vengeance… Aye, Rrowl, Mac promised without saying a word, We’ll be lairnin’ who’s ta blame fer this an’ when we do, lad, ye’ll get yer tairn! … Finally, looking confused and scared all at once, was a young woman dressed in blues – Ensign Llyvette, he believed was her name - who had been standing post at Science 1 before the ship had blown. This one tied a tight knot in Jack MacTavish’s gut because, even though she looked nothing like Chantelle, the slight frame, the flighty nature, and the Science blues did nothing but remind him of his wife… Chroist, Mac growled, imagining what her reaction would be when and if the news of the Cerberus’ destruction made it to Caldos IV, I ‘ope tha’ ye dinnae catch wind o’ this fer a fair sight, Chan-luv.
=/\\=Chirp=/\\=

“We’re bein’ ‘ailed,” he muttered in a ghostly voice as he pressed the button to respond. “This'd be MacTavish.”

“Well, ain’t that fortune smiling on our little party,” Jon Hash’s voice returned. “Lt. Hash, Captain. I’ve got a few of my medical staff with me, and a couple of other crewmen. The pod is full, but I am showing only a few others within the vicinity.”

“Acknowledged, Lt,” Mac rumbled in reply, his own fingers sliding over the control console, now, and confirming the doctor’s report of limited ASRVs from the Cerberus within range of any of the pod’s sensors, “Ef ye’ve go’ any engineerin’ blokes abaird, ‘ave ‘em set tae bolsterin’ communications an’ sensor relays, aye? Let’s find those tha’ we can an’ gath’r th’ flock, t’gether. Should ye ‘ave none abaird tha’ c’n manage flight control, Doctor, sit tight an’ we’ll come tae ye.”

=/\\=Chirp=/\\=

“This is Centurion Sienae i’Mhiessan Khnialmnae,” came the next report, “I have with me Lt. S'Talon i'Iuruth D'mora, Lt. Rhiana i'Ramnau Khellian, Lt. Shiarrael i'Ramnau Pardek and the four security guards detailed to us, with us. We also have the Cloaking Device for the Charon safely aboard.”

“Sounds as ef ye might be a wee bit cramped, Centurion,” Mac replied, “Stand by.”

“Have you heard if the rest of my team has checked in,” Sienae queried, “They were not with us when your command to abandon ship sounded.”

Mac swallowed hard and clenched his teeth. He had just lost scores, if not a hundred Starfleet officers and enlisted personnel and Centruion khnialmnae seemed panicked over the one or two missing from her detatchment? “Negative, Centurion,” he grumbled in reponse, forcing himself not to bark at the Romulan and remind her that she should be thanking whatever point-eared gods she might worship that so many of them escaped at all, “There be only a scatterin’ o’ ASRV’s lightin’ up th’ sensors, an’ yer bu’ the sec’nd tae repairt in. Communications’re tetchy a’ best, lass. As I said, stand by. I’ll be ‘avin’ Lt Commander Cameron lookin’ inta tha’ pos’ ‘aste. Ye’ll be advised as we c’n manage.”

The reports continued to come in confirming what each of them had secretly feared - too few had escaped the destruction of the Cerberus; so many had died. The last of these was from MSgt MacQueen of the M.A.C.O.s. With her were a few of her marines and an engineer named Stan David Stowbreiski.

“Thank ye, MSgt,” Mac responded to the Marine, advising her as he had the others to report that the goal at present was to maneuver the ASRVs into a tight cluster and, if possible, pool resources to ensure increased chances of survival and eventual recovery, “Stand by. Updates as their available, aye?”

He stabbed a finger at the conole and closed the channel before, finally, lifting his hands to his face, pressing fingertips into his temples as if to keep his head from exploding. Something about the survivors aboard that last ASRV gnawed at him but he couldn’t quite figure what it was. He was glad that those crewmen had survived, of course, but there was something out of place there… he could feel it in his gut but his mind couldn’t lock it down… something about the last duty roster he’d reviewed… Och! Fargitall, he told himself, his hands pushing back from his temples and running over the close cropped salt and pepper of his hair, et’ll come tae ye, Jack. A’ th’ moment’ h’wever, ye’ve go’ more impairtant thengs tae consid’r… Fleet’s made ye a Cap’n, lad, et’s time tae act th’ part…
“A’right,” he growled, his hands dropping to disengage the restraining harness and push himself out of his seat as he turned to face the officers in his pod, “Ev’r one o’ you lot suck et up an’ ge’ those fargin’ glum expressions offa yer gobs! Th’ rest o’ me crew’s bobbin’ aboot in th’ black all fargin’ run-amok an’ settin’ here feelin’ sorra fer ourselves’s no’ gonna do a bloody theng tae change tha’, aye?

Our fairst objective’ll be tae gath’r those pods tha’ve managed ta survive tagether an’ ensure we’re secure an’ defensible. Mester Rrowl, I’ll be needin’ye ta coordinate th’ tactical capabilties o’ the survivin’ ASRVs, an’ sniffin’ us oot suitable coordinates tae rendezvous… some sort o’ middle ground tae circle th’ bloody wagons, aye? Ensign Lyvette, ye c’n assist Lt Cdr Rrowl where th’ sensors an’ sech’re consairned.

Mester Cameron, Lt Dixon, an’ Ensign Montague; you lot’re responsible fer makin’ sure tha’ wha’s left o’ us’re in bonney-blinkin’ shape. I wan’ all our pods huddled up aboot th’ campfire singin’ Michael row yer fargin’ boat ashore wi’ in th’ next two hours! Get us lenked up, secured, an’ in tip-tops on all systems, un’erstood? Tha’ means bloody power management maximized and routed ta critical systems – distress beacons, life suppairt, sensors, and wha’ev’r defensive capabiltie we c’n manage – an’ once tha’s done, I wanna know wha’ in th’ name o’ Bonney Prince Charlie ‘appened tae me ship! Are we clear?”

“Aye, sir,” Dixon and Montague both croaked in unison, freeing themselves of their restraints, each ready to go to work despite the shock and grief that still obviously consumed them. Chief Cameron, though, didn’t so much as blink. The man simply sat there, staring dumbly out the tiny viewport at the spot where the Cerberus once was.

Jay-zus! “Did ya no’ hear wha’ I said, lad,” Mac growled taking a step towards the Engineer.

No answer just more blank staring and an expression of sheer disbelief and misery.

“Lieutenant Commander Cameron,” Mac demanded, louder this time… the blood starting to sing in his ears when, yet again, the CEO failed to so much as look in his direction. “Och! Fer th’ luv o’ Chroist!”

MacTavish stomped forward and unceremoniously released the straps that held Cameron in his seat, then delivered a sound slap to the side of the man’s head and, grabbing twin fistfuls of Duncan’s jacket, hauled him forcibly to his feet. “Ye better fargin’ wake yer fargin’ arse up an’ move et when I fargin’ says tae move it, monkey-boy,” he barked, his eyes blazing and teeth gnashing as he roughly shook the engineer, “er fer the luv o’ heath’r an’ haggis I’ll break me foot off s’far up inside it ye’ll be spittin’ oot me toenails fer a fargin’ month!

Aye, we’ve lost our boat an’ a bloody good part o’ our crew along wi’ ‘er! Et makes me as sick an’ angry as et does th’ rest o’ ye bu’ tha’ does no’ change our situation! If yer gonna boo-hoo an’ bellyache, b’God, yer gonna do et whilst yer makin’ sure tha’ the rest o’ yer crewmates’ve go’ th’ best possible chance o’ survivin’!”

Cameron was blinking, now, rapidly… Grand! Th’ lad’s startin’ tae hear me!… Mac growled and slung the CEO towards the viewport, cuffing him with another trademark slap to the head as a follow-up. “Ya see those winkin’ lights ott there, haggis,” he growled, “Tha’s wha’s left o’ this crew! Those tha’re dead’re jus’ tha’! Dead! Casu’lties o’ war! We be a’ war, Mester Cameron! Et’s tae be expected an’ ye should know tha’ per’aps better’n the rest o’ us, should ye no’?!

Yer obligation’s no’ tae those tha’ve a’ready perished in pairsuit o’ this mission, lad, bu’ tae them oot there who’re still suckin’ air an’ wi’ th’ grace o’ god, still capable o’ completin’ et! Those tha’re dead, lad, would expect nothin’ less o’ ye! An’ I expect a damn fair sight more! If ye cannae see yer way clear ta make any of et ‘appen, Mester Cameron, ye feel free ta open tha’ bloody hatch o’er there an’ finish th’ rest o’ us off, aye?!”

Duncan finally turned and regarded Mac as if he could finally see the Cerberus’ CO, a light in his eyes that was a mixture of lonliness, grief, and thankfully, anger at having been man-handled like some new recruit by an overbearing drill instructor.

“Are yew seein’ an’ hearin’ me, now, Mester Cameron,” Mac demanded now that his CEO appeared to have been snapped back to the moment.

“Sir,” Cameron said at last, “Aye sir!”

“Bloody brilliant,” MacTavish chuffed, “then quit eyeballin’ me as ef yer aboot tae kick me arse an’ move yers, monkey-boy! I’ve a’ready wasted more’n enough o’ me time doin’ the reel wi’ ye an’d like tae get tae wairk!”

((OOC: Okay… that’s just part 1, of course… figured I’d throw at least that much up right now just to prove that, yes, by god, Eol is going to post to this game and, as you can see, has finally found good ol’ Mac and elevated his bloodpressure back up to the levels we all know and love. Got muuuuch more in the works and am hoping to have it posted by late tonight or tomorrow at the latest… possibly even sooner, thanks to the inspiration from all of you! Hope you enjoyed yer arse-chewin’ Duncan… Mac hasn’t monkey-boy’d anyone in a while… you should feel honored. ))

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 12:09 hours
“If I may interject, Captain,” Kato said, turning to Lt. Cmdr. Talon. “I don’t think that the Romulans have a motive for such an act. And if the security on the Cerberus is half as dilligent as you the security you had planned for the Romulans here on the Charon, I doubt that they’d be able to pull off a stunt of such magnitude…” He looked to the Captain once more.
Lt. Cmdr Talon snorted at Kato and grinned slightly as he replied, “You don’t know Romulans well do you? I have fought them for years and let me tell you, the moment you underestimate them, that is when you die.”

(Note: The Charon doesn’t have any Romulans on board.. least I don’t think so. They were to come aboard from the Cerebeus when we rendezvoused with them.)


Lt. Cmdr. Kato 3 was at his computer console, scanning the region of space before them. He addressed Captain Gavison. “The TDG was designed specifically to detect ships with Romulan cloaking devices,” Kato 3 said with a sigh, “I think we can rule out the possibility that the ship was hijacked and cloaked; I’m not getting anything.
Talon kept his eyes on the tactical console, everything was primed and ready. Hearing Kato’s sensor report he snorted slightly, he didn’t think the Romulans would be able to hijack the Cerebeus, he was more interested if they had destroyed it somehow. There weren’t enough of them to take over a vessel but it only took one or two to sabotage a warp core.

“Maybe if I recalibrate the….wait…” Kato 3 leaned in closer at his console. “I’m not getting anything as big as a Starship, but there is something on our long-range sensors. Earlier, it was hard to tell from this range whether it was simply space debris, but I’m picking up something now, very small. If I push the short-range sensors with some of the recalibrations I made to them, we should be able to scan the object with more detail..."

He entered a few commands into the console, the short-range sensors focused in on the object.

"It’s definitely mechanical…smaller than a Runabout...or a shuttle. We’re moving closer into range. I’ve got it…it’s…it’s an… an escape pod,” he said.

The sigh of relief they were all waiting for never arrived – an escape pod could only mean one thing.

“I should have known,” he said. “I’ve been looking for larger vessels in the scans; I’ve been searching for the Cerberus. I’m going to adjust the scans to search for more escape pods…Sir...” Kato paused, a smile on his face. “A distress beacon, emanating from the pod. We just moved into its range.

“It has to be Cerberus crewmen, sir,” he concluded. “At least we’ll find out what happened to them…”
Talon nodded at what seemed to be proof of his assumptions, something had destroyed the Cerebeus and the Romulans were prime suspects, but their was no harm in checking for other vessels in the area. He reached down and activated the Charon’s Tactical Sensors, and had them sweeping the area. The 18 specialized sensors would scan for possible hostile vessels and automatically lock on and report bearings, aspects, distance, etc. These new sensors were the latest in Starfleet Tactical equipment; they were 80% efficient against any Electronic Counter Measures and could operated fairly well in particle flux nebulae (which has been hitherto impossible).

As the sensors scanned the Chief Security Officer activated his comm to his security officer, “Lt. Myers, prepare security details to stand by at all transporter pads and docking ports. We may have survivors from the Cerebeus coming aboard, I want all rescued personnel quarantined until they can be cleared.” Talon waited for the acknowledgement then started to sign off but paused….”And Lt, keep any Romulans you find under guard.”

Signing off he looked up at the Captain, knowing he had to overhear Talon’s orders to his security details. He knew the Captain said to keep an open mind, and he intended to do just that; everyone was a suspect until they knew for sure what caused the loss of the Cerebeus.

(Edit to reflect change in Kato 3s post)

Stardate 2374.09.05 - 1200 hours to 1800
ASRV-83964:E-025, deployed from USS Cerberus

Shiarrael had heard the Centurion make her check in report. After that the last couple of hours were numbing to say the least. The shock of losing a brand new ship for no reason was almost overwhelming. Shaking herself back to reality, as a chief engineer she had a responsibility to make sure this lifeboat keeps everyone alive till rescue. Shiarrael will get up from her spot on the floor; and will make her way to the ships counsel. The security guard was still in shock over the loss of his shipmates, and was still blankly staring at the display screen.

“Anderson, why don’t you get some sort of drink from the replicater for yourself.“ Shiarrael will tell him gently.

“Yes ma’am” was the automatic reply as he woodenly got up and walked off towards the rear of the box.

Sitting down she will bring up the technical manual of this shoe box and found out that it is called an Autonomous Survival and Recovery Vehicles or ASRV for short. There are 35 ASRV’s to a saber class starship. After a bit she will down load the whole file to her PADD, for later mulling over. She will then look for, and find the ships logs. (This will do nicely) That too will be down loaded as well. When Anderson came back he was not so pasty faced as before.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.” He had noticed that she was busy at the counsel.

“I had down loaded the manual for this ASRV as well as the ships log. I intend to keep this shoebox working till we are rescued. The ships log is for me to try to find out just why the Cerberus exploded.” Setting her PADD aside she will then make use of the scanners to locate the other ASRV’s and found very few. “The ship had a full complement did it not Anderson?” Shiarrael will ask quietly.

“Not quite yet ma’am, but yes almost. Why do you ask” Anderson asked curiously.

“Too few ASRV’s for the amount of people I have seen in the mess hall at times. If anyone needs me I’ll be back by the door going over this information. Just let the ships automatic systems do their jobs. They will guide the rescue vessels to us, so do not turn anything off.” Shiarrael will return to her spot on the floor. Sitting quietly for a bit and thinking.

Why in the name of all that is holy, Why? Why the loss of so many young people? If this turns out to be sabotage like my gut is telling me it is, I'll find the bastard and kick his or her butt to about the same level as it’s ears THEN shove them into the containment core of a reactor.
At that point she will get up and head for the replicater for a drink, and a bowl of what was called rice crackers. She will sit back down and go over the ASRV’s manual first. The past was past; the present has to be addressed now.

A couple of hours later Shiarrael will get up and stretch. The manual was done, now the ships log. Getting another drink and to go over the last few moments before the warp core exploded, what she found numbed her, the safeties not working, The override not working, the alarm did not work, erratic power fluctuations began at the exact same moment that the antimatter flow became irregular in the intermix chamber, all pointed to one thing. “Sabotage” she will say out loud in a shaky voice “Centurion, the Cerberus was sabotaged.”

“Yes,” replied Sienae without emotion, “I expected such; it fits the events as they happened.”

Sienae looked to S’Talon, who had been busy at his computer since entering the ASRV. The old man looked up and nodded to Sienae and Shiarrael. “I concur,” he said, “The question is who?”

“You can bet the perpetrator is alive and well on an ASRV,” adds Sienae. He or she or them left themselves just enough time to be sure that they and some others would get off the ship and survive.”

“Astute summations, both of you.” comment S’Talon. “Ok, I now want to speak to Shiarrael and Rhiana and the two guards that were with them in engineering when they went to do the first diagnostic on the CL.”

S’Talon then gives the four of them the debriefing of a lifetime the main theme of his questions centered on any unusual occurrences.

Shiarrael looks directly into Talon’s eye. She doesn’t know why, but she brings up something that has been bothering her, “The only unusual activity in engineering is this ‘Mr. Stinky’ in Engineering. Everyone, even his fellow crewmates avoid his presence. His odor is most especially foul. He is slovenly and looks like he sleeps in his uniform, though no one seems to pay much attention to him except to hurry by him or brush him out of the way. His sort would not have been tolerated in The RSN.” Shiarrael goes over in her mind her encounters with the ‘Mr. Stinky’. She gives her factual observations first, “I have made of point of watching him every time I was in Engineering. I do know his name is Stan David Stowbreiski. The last time I had seen him was near the warp containment field during our last check/scan on the CD. He had dropped his PADD, and instead of stooping to pick it up as I have seen other humans so, he bent over and exposed the fact that he was NOT clean at all. The other part about that incident that rings odd, is after he picked up his PADD. He gave his PADD a pat with his hand and raised his eyebrows at the crewman who’d witnessed the whole affair in an apologetic gesture. “Jellyfingers,” he said is what he told the other disgusted looking crew member present. Where not the humans the first to coin the phrase Butter Fingers?” These facts are the only items to stand out as odd and unusual happenings on board the ship I have witnessed.”

Rhiana quickly nods in agreement and adds. “Yes, his odor is so offensive and several times I had to ask him to move away while we were working on the cloaking device.” I would recommend to the Star Fleet Captain that if this was sabotage then for certain the perpetrator got off. So when we are found the person involved should be on one of the escape pods. The Captain should have them all gathered up and held and everyone examined closely. Would you pass that on to Captain MacTavish? I would be willing to stay in the pod to prevent the same thing from happening to whatever ship is coming to pick us up. Also I think they need to find a person that is out of place in an escape pod. Someone that had no reason to be in a particular pod away from where this all started. I will bet you a bottle of your Romulan ale you find that person and you will find you saboteur.”

“I have one question for the Federation personnel,” put in Rhiana, “What does Jellyfinger’s mean?”

“Jellyfingers?” quizzed Anderson. “Only thing I know like that is sticky fingers for some one who steals something, and butterfingers for someone who drops things.”

Rhiana, went thoughtful for a moment, “Odd, Stinky dropped his PADD by the warp containment cell while we were doing a diagnostic on the CD and when he picked it up he said, Jellyfingers.”

“Now on another note, Centurion, I think we all need a bit of to change positions I am sure you would like to stretch you back, we could all use a bit of a stretch and a change of position.”

Better they were cramped that dead, thought Sienae. It was her snap decision to keep the other two guards from finding another ASRV. Had she let them they would be dead now. They had been among the last of those who made it off the ship when if blew, and just far enough away to keep from being destroyed in the blast. That ejection from the ship had brought on the expected reaction, pain shooting up and down her back.

Rhiana was about to mention to S’Talon that The Centurion appeared to be in pain from the rough launch of the escape pods, but the words die on her lips as the Centurion responded to his request. The Centurion had the CD and her PADD, but not her medicines.

“I will need the floor,” say Sienae, she rises and goes to a section of clear floor, then kneels and sits on her heels keeping her back ramrod straight.

She meditated to help easy the pain as their ASRV was maneuvered into a grouping of survivors. In the back of mind she wondered who the saboteur was working for. Though it could be any of the Dominion, and those outsiders who would not like to see the Federation and the RSE working together and the Tal Shiar were not out of the equation in her mind.


((OOC edit to fix not saved stuff))

MACO Mst, Sgt. McQueen was working with her MACO team when the klaxons sounded “Abandoned ship” She jerked her head up and listened again to the repeated message.

“All right Jarines, I don’t care if this is a drill or not. You bust you butts to the escape pods pronto. Don’t stop for anything you don’t have on you right now.’

James, Taru, Dominguez, and Dawson go with Cpl Nagayama The rest of you come with me double quick. Get Going, Stay together.”

Brianna did exactly as she had told her team. She herded them all out of the exercise room and down the corridor to the nearest escape pods. She then moved to the front of her troops. The hallways were crowded with crew headed for escape pods. Brianna looked for the flashing green lights that signaled where open escape pods were ready for occupants. Red lights mean it was filled and close up steady red meant the pod had been launched. Turning into a set of pods, Brianna saw the flash of a uniform standing near the controls. Someone was preparing to shut the doors.

“Hold that door Crewman,” she yelled out her voice carrying even above the klaxon calls to abandon ship. However the man continued to push the control button. Brianna sprinted suddenly into the ASRV and slapped his hands away from the controls. Intimidating him with over 6 foot 2 of pure muscle in the black MACO uniform.

“I said hold it." She turned on the crewman. "Don’t touch anything again or I’ll have your guts for garters.”

Then to her team, “Plant yourselves and prepare for launch, Yuri, All clear?”

“All Clear, Mst. Sgt.

Brianna hit the switch to close. The launch came right after the door close. Once safely launched Brianna turns back to her team and the one Ship’s crewman. “Dominguez take over the controls. I will contact whoever is in charge.

“Whats you name crewman? I need to report your presence. ” and that is not all she would report, but that was for later.

“Stan Stowbreiski, Mst Sgt.” the man gets out, “from Engineering.”

“Fine” Now stow it and keep out of my sight.”

Brianna activates the radio and beacons and found most of the bridge command intact and in charge. She didn’t bother about asking what happened, it happened. She gave her name rank and those of her men to whoever was collecting it, and Stan’s.

After that she takes a deep breath and sits down to settle in. Where is the awful smell coming from? "If I have told you once I have told you a hundred times you Jarines need to keep yourselves cleaned up.”

Two sets of hands towards the rear of the escape pod quickly point to Stan. “ It’s him, Mst. Sgt." Cpl. Johns says quickly.

Brianna strides over to the the engineering crewman. She take one sniff of him, “Okay Stowbreiski, you reek. Do something about it now. If not, I will have my men strip you to your skin and scrub you down. Or I will stuff you into a space suit and you can smell yourself and no one else will have to. Do I make myself clear?" Her hands are on her hips and her arms akimbo, her voice fills the pod easily—imposing sounding and looking indeed and not to be trifled with.

Brianna moves away from the offensive man not that she is squeamish, but it was really nasty for a crewman on a star ship to smell like that. If she didn’t know any better she would say that he had been cleaning out the bilges, only there were none on these modern ships. Everything was recycled.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
Charon – Docking bay – 22:15 hours

A MACO team double-timed it up the Charon and halted.

“Gunnery Sergeant Rhiannon MacQueen, reporting in with MACO Team Beta bound for duty aboard the Cerberus, via the Charon.” She and her team were in the regulation black MACO uniforms and stood at attention and saluted the Office of the Deck as was proper.

A couple of crewmen turned to look and both revealed their appreciation of what they saw and why shouldn’t they, as her father had said, she and her twin were fine figures of womankind. 6’2” in her stocking feet she was taller that 3 of her team. Junoesque in stature, or one might say an image of Brunhilda, do to their viking ancestry. Rhiannon was fighting fit which only accentuated her obvious feminine curves which the stretch material of the black suits revealed so well. Her glorious head of red gold hair was done in a French braid down the back of her head and then the long braid was folded in half and secured with a clip, simple and utilitarian. Intense aquamarine eyes stared out under the red wings of her eyebrows in a face the was beautiful as well as being charismatic. Added to that was the look in her eyes that revealed a depth of character to those who looked beyond their brilliant cerelean surface, eyes that could go glacially hard or stormy.

“Commander Sisko sent us a message to hussle here, said we were to board immediately. Permission to board and get our stuff stowed. Then I will hie myself off to report into the captain. Has Gamma team reported in?” ”

“Permission Granted, though the Captain is not onboard at this time and Gamma Team has not yet reported in.”

The were a couple of cut off cheers, to that, as she had promised them extra lounge time for beating Gamma Team to the Charon.

“Thank you, Sir, I will report to him later. Now please tell us where we are bivouacked.”

Rhiannon was sitting on her bunk after overseeing the stowing of gear and the placement of her team, when the announcement came over the intercom.

“This is Captain Gavison.” The ship’s overhead barked his words to the whole of his crew. He’d been demanding they sleep aboard ship for the past two days in the hopes that they’d finalize the repairs to the Charon quicker as time had been running out. All personnel should be accounted for. “Report to your stations. We are leaving berth. I repeat: report to your stations immediately. The Charon will be under way in less than fifteen minutes, or I’ll skin the man holding me up.”

Rhiannon frowned, something was up. She decided to wait until the ship was well under way before reporting to the captain. The turbo lift doors opened and she entered the bridge and saluted, “Permission to speak to the Captain.”

At that moment the ship wide com sounded again. “Our sister ship in this mission has gone missing, and we’re going to find her,” he began over the intraship communications. “As of 15:17 hours this afternoon, the Cerberus was reported missing. There has been no communication from her, or any of her crew, since. This ship is now in yellow alert and will remain so until further notice.”

Rhiannon stopped dead for a moment she could have been carved out of stone as her eyes turned inward. Brianna, her twin was aboard the Cerberus, for the first time in almost 5 years they would be together again.

The Cerberus missing.

Brianna was missing.

They had been inseparable since birth a birth that happened simultaneously as the nurses lifted them out of their mother’s womb at the same time as she had to have a C section do to their size. Those Brianna Shannon MacQueen and Rhiannon Gwyneth MacQueen had the same time of birth, 2:18 PM on Jan 11, 2350, and that also made them both the Seventh Daughters of a Seventh Daughter. By Scots and Irish folklore, they were fey. Throughout their life there had been incidents of their fey powers, or so it seemed. There were times when they could tell where the other was, or what they were doing, even to what they were feeling. They had a habit of finishing each others sentences. To hear them speak, most would get lost in the conversation as it seemed one knew what the other was saying so their sentences would be unfinished. They were also separate individuals with different likes and dislikes. Brianna loved liver and onions and Rhiannon would leave the house when their mother cooked it. Then there was this connection they had, one that tied them so completely together.

Slowly her breathing returned to normal. Brianna was alive, she knew it.

(Responses)

Stardate 2374.09.05 - 2000 hours
ASRV-83964:E-025, deployed from USS Cerberus

Shiarrael will notice something while she was reading the Technical manual for this ASRV. The artificial gravity for the ship took a lot of power. If she were to reduce the gravity to 15% then the power saved would easily support the 8 of them for about 120 days instead of the 90 days listed in the manual. Also she could route some of that same power to the com systems to boost the signal by 50%. The only question is, will that cause the Centurion more pain. Shiarrael had noticed that the Centurion was sweating a bit and was paler then normal. Getting up from her spot on the floor she will go to the back of the ASRV aka “The Shoebox” to talk quietly to Rhiana.

“Rhiana,” she whispered, “I have thought of a way to save a lot of energy but the trouble is will cutting most of the power to the ships artificial gravity system cause the Centurion more pain? She did not say anything earlier, but did the launch injure her? I know I have a few bruises and so does Anderson, but nothing as bad as she looks. I know you are a Medical doctor as well as a scientist, and this ship does have a medical kit on board with medications if that can help.”

“The reason to conserve energy is that this shoebox will sustain 6 people for 90 days. We are 8. On the positive side is that at a lesser gravity we can move around easier and also be able to boost the transmission signal for help.”

“Yes, we can certainly do that much to maximized our power. Why don’t you share this with the Centurion first then we can make modifications. I am hoping that the ship got off a distress signal though and Starfleet is on the way to find us.” Rhiana agrees with Shiarrael. “Both of those are excellent ideas. We can also power down the lights. We don’t need it that bright in here. With less gravity and less effort, wan also conserve oxygen,” was Rhiana’s idea to help out with the pod’s resources.

Both of the Science techs return to the Centurion and offer their ideas to her.

Stardate 2374.09.05 - 1200 hours to 1800
ASRV-83964:E-025, deployed from USS Cerberus
Sienae listens to their proposals and a simple, "Yes, go ahead," set everything in motion.

Sienae on the other hand was doing everything possible not to do anything to cause he back to spasm again, like it did on the jetisoning of te ASRV. Even with the drugs she had taken before they began work on the CD, the acceleration of the ASRV had caused her significant pain. The drugs would ssoon be out of her system entirely, then she would have to be very careful to do nothing to strain her back in any way.

She had had an appointment with the Doctor, as did all the Romulans, where she might finally find some relief from the pain she had been living with. It was a fact that Star Fleet medical personnel were superior that what Romulans had aboard their warbirds. All she had wanted was to be on the way when she presented her medical files to the Star Fleet CMO. All she could hope for now was shielding herself from situtations that triggered her attacks.

Sienae found some relief as she sat on the floor ramrod straight. Then she tackled another problem, it took time and mental diligence to deal with it. When she concluded with a plan of action she started to rise. S'Talon was there and offered an arm to the Centurion to get up. If anyone really watch the proceediing, they would have seen that S'Talon did all the lifting.

"S'Talon get me a secure channel to Captain MacTavish's ASRV." She settled in a seat at the control counsole and waited.

/-\\\\ Chirp. "This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish . Repeat: This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish."/-\\\\

(Replies)

Stardate 2374.09.06 - 1225 hours
ASRV-83964:E-001, deployed from USS Cerberus
((This exchange begins shortly after Duncan's report of detecting the Charon and Mac's corresponding reply and commands for rescue preparation. Eol, feel free to post interaction and replies at the appropriate points here.))

Duncan shared the elation of all the other Cerberus survivors, but he knew, despite the excitement, anger, and sorrow, that time was of the essence in finding the Cerberus' saboteur, and Captain MacTavish needed to know before everyone boarded the Charon, in order to have all possible options available to him. There was no time to get more data for the captain; he had to hope MacTavish would trust his findings.

Seeing MacTavish move toward the back of the pod for a moment, Duncan squirmed past the crewmembers staring out the viewport hoping for the first glimpse of the Charon, and approached the captain.

"Captain, I need to speak with you for a moment. It's urgent."

((Mac's reply, most likely grumpy in some way.))

"First of all, sir, I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier. I know it was way out of line. But because of your kick in the ass, I was motivated to review the ship's telemetry, among other things, and I found something very disturbing."

((Mac's get-on-with-it reply))

"Sir...someone sabotaged the ship. There's just no way that all the systems that failed could have failed simultaneously; there are just too many redundancies and safeguards for that to happen. So I looked a little deeper. Power fluctuations in the warp core and irregular antimatter flow in the intermix chamber occurred at exactly the same time. There's just no way for that to happen naturally. The warp core fluctuations will lead to irregular matter and antimatter flow in the intermix chamber, but for them to start at exactly the same instant, something has to initiate it. I remembered the same thing happening on the Enterprise-D when a student's science experiment went awry."

Duncan took a breath and grimly continued.

"It was nanites, sir. That's the only thing that would explain it; the only thing capable of causing those particular problems. It's not something that could be done through software or programming; the nanites would have physically manipulated the power current and the antimatter flow. Add to that the deactivation of the warp core's automatic ejection system and emergency forcefield containment system, and the deactivation of the Cerberus' main distress signal...there can be no doubt about it, captain. It was sabotage."

Now came the hardest part to tell, the part that almost made Duncan sick with outrage and the feeling of betrayal.

"It's someone on the ship, sir. Nanites have a very limited operational life; they had to have been introduced after we left Spacedock. I'll need time to narrow down where they were introduced into the system; it could have been anywhere on the ship with computer access. Hopefully some Engineering people on the other pods have been doing some homework too and we can get it figured out quicker, but there's no way around it, sir. We have a traitor among us. And unless they decided to go kamikaze and die with the ship, I'd be willing to bet they're on one of the pods. Maybe this one, for all I know."

As Duncan listened to MacTavish's understandably angry and vicious reply, Duncan was also making a promise to himself. Whoever did this to the Cerberus would pay, and they wouldn't necessarily do it in front of a Starfleet tribunal. He knew his thoughts were taking a dark turn, but the roiling feelings within him made him not care a whit. Right now, for Duncan, there was a concept that held infinitely more appeal for him than Starfleet justice:

VENGEANCE.

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1530 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
Ensign Lyvette sat in a little metal bubble floating through space, while she grasped mentally again and again for an answer the question bouncing around her head ‘How did I get here?’

The answer was not forthcoming. She had been on the bridge, it was the first time Lt. Solus had let her do the shift alone, and she had been happily investigating the buttons and scanners and screens, watching as she found bits of interesting information as they flew through space. Then something happened, she felt the ship lurch a moment and then her senses were filled with flashing red lights. Her mind quickly scoured the nine months of training she had at the academy, trying to make sense of what was happening, but this wasn’t a paper test, or even one of the simulators at the academy, this was real, they were floating through space and the red lights were flashing… her mind raced and got just about nowhere except that something was wrong. The captain started yelling orders, but none were directed at her, so she pushed herself back up against the controls trying to stay out of the way. It seemed to be an engineering issue, the golden uniforms were scrambling about, the CEO was desperately trying to fix something, but every time he punched a button his face only grew more red and frustrated. Finally he gave up and looked over at Captain MacTavish, "Captain, we're lookin' at a breach in 30 seconds! There's nothing I can do!"

And then the Captain spoke. "This is yer cap’ain speakin’. This is no’ a drill. Abandon ship wit’ pos’ haste. I repea’ this is no’ a drill.” His voice echoed through the ship, while her stomach dropped to the floor.

This was more than just bad, Lyvette moved on auto pilot from there on. Her legs moved as the captain herded her and the others present on the bridge to the escape pod, she found herself being shoved into a seat, and promptly buckled herself in. In a moment they were ejected from the ship, the G forces thrust her back in her chair and she closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the seat beneath her until her knuckles gleamed white. She kept her eyes closed, and did not see the explosion of the ship so much as she felt it, the slight wave of energy that hit the pod and the sighs and winces going on around the cabin told her the ship was gone.

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked around. A girl was crying softly, and the CEO looked blank, the others were pale and solemn looking, except for the captain who still had a deep burning fire in his eyes. Desperately she tried to put names to the faces around her. At the launch she’d been introduced to everyone, but the names faded, she could only recall the Captain’s name at the moment.

Then the radio had started. Other pods were reporting in, and a roster began to form, the survivors. Intently she had listened to each report, hearing only the names, listening for the ones she knew, but with each pod that called in she was losing hope, the names were unfamiliar to her.

Only having been on board two days she had not had time to meet many people, and certainly not to forge deep friendships with anyone, but there were a few she was getting to know.

Lt. Lassiter her fellow science officer had seemed like a nice enough man. He was quiet around her, often listening to her ramble on and on while he worked, nodding his head now and then to at least appear like he was actually listening. He had shown her around the ship, and in the laboratory he had taken the time to explain something new to her with patience. Lyvette liked him, and had hoped that she would get to know him better during the mission.

Lt. Solus had not been as patient, often he had cut her off during her ramblings and reminded her they were aboard a starship, working as science officers, not sitting in a social club gabbing. But he had always said that with a small smile at the corner of his lips. He always seemed to know the answer to any of her questions, and she was certain that she would learn a lot from him.

Then there was Bruce. Crew Member Bruce Wainwright. He had been the first person she’d met, she remembered the strange look he’d given her when she’d shown up on his teleporter pad with all her plants… her plants!!

Corney, Judas and Jezabell, her plants were surely gone too. She’d spent so long finding them, nurturing them… Jezabell had been a present from Brandon, she’d meant so much to Lyvette. Gone.

But Bruce, he seemed to be gone too. He had found her the next day at breakfast and sat down with her, even remembered to call her Curie. The two of them had spoken for so long that he was five minutes late to his post. His grandparents had a farm out in the Midwest, he told her all about spending the summers there planting crops and tending the cows. Lyvette had only been to the America’s once, to New York for a conference, and had bombarded Bruce with a million questions. He had happily answered every one. They had met several times around the place since and had stopped to greet each other, he had even hinted that perhaps they should get together for dinner tonight…

Her bottom lip quivered as she thought of them, and her milky chocolate skin paled to the color of cinnamon chai, her stomach churned, and her eyes moved to the window, where there was nothing but blackness and she quickly shut her eyes again, wishing to keep the blackness away, maybe if she didn’t see it it didn’t have to happen.

She had just pulled a memory out, sitting on the quad back at Oxford, the sun on her skin, her bare feet playing in the cool grass and Brandon’s big strong tattooed arms wrapped around her, and was working to wrap herself in that memory of a much happier time and calm herself down. When suddenly the memory was torn from her and her eyes popped back open to stare at MacTavish who had suddenly started barking orders.

Through the fading sunshine of her fantasy and the raw emotions bubbling up inside of her she tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Something about rounding up the pods, and she was supposed to help with scans. Numbly she nodded to him indicating she would help, although she still was not sure how, she couldn’t hear everything he was saying, and even if she could she wasn’t sure she could make her fingers do anything on that computer but make it spit out ketchup filled doughnuts.

She had just begun to will herself to move, and had begun to wonder just what she was supposed to be scanning for when MacTavish Blew Up. To her it seemed to come out of nowhere. His screams were directed to the CEO, who at first did nothing, and Lyvette was terrified that the man was dead. The words coming out of MacTavish’s mouth meant nothing, they were white noise, but she could see spittle flying from his lips, and then his hand turn meaty and red as he unlatched the CEO, slapped him and then shook him hard. Lyvette had pushed herself as far back against her seat as she could, trying to melt into the very cushion, her hands pressed against the sides of the chair, her eyes bulged, and her skin paled from cinnamon chai to vanilla chai in an instant. Her entire body shivered when she heard the CEO get slapped and she felt her stomach turn and twist inside her. The CEO moved, he wasn’t dead, but then MacTavish said something about the dead, and causalities of war, she saw Bruce in her mind and suddenly the bile rose in her throat.

The girl was still bright sappy green, not even a week out of the academy, and combined with the fact that her emotions felt like someone had tied them to the back of truck and sped down the Autobahn with them scrapping along every inch of pavement the whole way, she was not doing well. One hand immediately cupped around her lips while the other frantically searched under her seat. She found the ‘air sick’ bag under the seat only a moment before she actually needed it. Doubling over in her chair she wretched unceremoniously into the white wax paper bag.

Luckily she had not eaten much before everything blew up, so she only managed to heave twice before she stopped, and slowly raised her big dark eyes up over the bag and looked out into the pod. Sure enough everyone stared at her, and the color rushed back into her face in a deep flush. Scanning those looking at her her eyes moved up toward MacTavish, and she muttered very softly.

“I’m sorry I puked in your pod sir. I didn’t mean to. But I didn’t get it on your deck… “ she looked at him with a face that was unsure if what she said was funny and she should laugh at it, or if she should start crying.

With shaking hands she lowered the bag and fumbled while trying to fold down the top of it. Then she fumbled some more with the buckles holding her in. Once she finally got clear of them she stood on jelly legs and looked around at everyone as she tried to make her way to the replicator. At the replicator she leaned against the wall and put the bag on the platform then hit the button to make it disappear then leaned over and asked for a glass of water.

She took deep heaving breaths while she waited for the water, when it arrived she sipped on it slowly. The stinging metallic taste would not leave her mouth though. After a few sips she turned back to the captain and again whispered to him.

“I’ll get on those scans in a moment… just… I’m sorry sir…” then she turned her back on the pod and continued to try to wash the sour taste out of her mouth with the water.

Stardate 09.05.2374 – approx 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
=/\\= Chirp.=/\\= the pod’s communication’s panel warbled, =/\\= This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish . Repeat: This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish.=/\\=

“Acknowledged, E-025,” Lt Dixon replied before initiating protocols to secure the line and muting the comm-channel, “Stand by.

Captain,” she called, swiveling in her seat at the flight control station to locate MacTavish. She found his jacket first, hastily folded and draped across an empty seat next to which Lt Cdr Cameron stood, studying the display on the PADD in his hand and cross-referencing that data with the smaller display mounted to the bulkhead just above the hatch from which the Captain had managed to squeeze his head, shoulders, and arms into as he assisted in Cameron’s efforts to form up the ASRVs and manage systems integration between the small craft.

“Wha’ es et, Dixon,” Mac’s voice replied, partially muffled by the interior bulkhead of the ASRV, “I’m a wee bit busy, ‘ere, lass.”

“It’s the Romulans, sir,” Dixon answered, trying to peer past the tiny hact to get a view of more than Mac’s legs and lower torso, “Centurion Khnialmnae, requesting a secure channel.”

“Bloody ‘ell,” Mac rumbled. He appeared to lay motionless for a moment, as if he weren’t even considering extricating himself from the access hatch. Just when Dixon was about to reconnect to the Centurion, though, and advise that the Captain was indisposed, the bulkhead mounted display flickered, brightened, and began scrolling data.

“That’s it, sir,” Cameron grinned, his gaze volleying between the display and whatever data appeared on his PADD, “I think you’ve got it.”

Mac wriggled free of the hatch then, shoving tools and a tricorder out ahead of him, before hauling himself to his feet and nodding to the CEO. “I dinnae need ye ta think, Mester Cameron,” the Captain rumbled, “I need ye ta bloody well know! Are we transmittin’ or are we no’?”

Duncan’s eyes jumped between the displays once more, his fingers danced over the PADD evoking a melodic chirp from the device, and then replied; “Yes sir. Signal strength nominal, range increased by 1.987923 million kilometers… Those packs won’t last, sir, but the extra power ought to get us noticed much quicker if anyone’s out there to pick it up... Good job, sir.”

“Twere yer idea, ladd,” Mac chuffed as he stalked towards the flight control terminal, “I jus’ patched yer busted relay es all… Go ‘head an’ get ta wairk onna rest, whilst I see tae th’ Roms, aye?”

Arriving at the FC station, the Captain placed one hand on Dixon’s shoulder and used the other to free the holding comm. channel. “MacTavish,” he said simply, “Wha’s on yer mind, Centruion?”

((OOC: tag Sienae…))

Stardate 09.06.2374 – approx 1025 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
The last several hours had been a testament to the determination, tenacity, and resolve of what remained of the Cerberus’ crew; sadly, though, Captain MacTavish had discovered in that same amount of time exactly how few of them there were. Of the thirty-five escape pods that had been docked to the Steamrunner only twenty-two had been ejected prior to the explosion and a mere fifteen had managed to escape the blast at all. At best, that meant that ninety of the Cerberus’ original compliment of two-hundred-ninteen souls had survived…

Less’n bloody ‘alf, Mac fumed as he reviewed and verified the ever growing list of names that scrolled across the display. The gold-suiters had taken the heaviest losses, of course; Engineering and TAC/SEC had easily lost ninety percent of their numbers if not better… Figura, Valberg, Davis, Martin, Murray, Bachman… Science and Medical, too, had taken heavy casualties… Solus, Artrest, Buchwalter, Murphy… The losses hadn’t been confined to those departments whose areas of operations were arranged closer to the source of the blast, though; the names of the missing and presumed killed in action spanned every department and every section of the ship… Flight Contol: P’Tammah, Hughes, Rademacher… Command: Sitok, Weatherly…dammit, lass… Operations: Sode, Carmicheal, T’shir…MACO: Caide, Everett… Jayzus!
The list seemed endless and, with each new name that was added and required his verification, he felt a new knot twist itself into his gut. After a while, it was all too much to take and, having updated yet another twenty MIA entries to confirmed KIA, Mac grumbled a disgusted curse under his breath and tossed the PADD angrily onto one of the pods seats… he needed a cup of coffee and, even more than that, needed to put his hands around the throat of whomever had visited this misfortune upon his crew; unfortunately, as things had developed, Jack MacTavish was finding it difficult not to blame himself for this whole fiasco, regardless of who or what might have actually caused the catastrophic failure of the Cerberus’ warp core and her emergency systems…

“Coffee,” he growled at the pod’s tiny replicator, knowing better than to be specific as to blend and brew.

He snatched the cup from the alcove even before the replicator chimed its completion and skulked over to flight control. Cameron, who had been tireless and near unstoppable since Mac had seen fit to give him a less than cordial arse-chewing nearly a day ago, now, was manning the station, peering through the viewport at the tight formation of just over a dozen ASRVs left from his ship and monitoring the constant stream of sensor and communications data that flowed between the tiny vessels. “Tha’s good wairk, Duncan,” Mac told the CEO, finally, commending the man for all his efforts in the one simple statement.

…The Captain couldn’t help but wonder, as he stared out at the cluster of escape pods, how many of the survivors were also laying the blame at his feet… nor could he stop himself from feeling that, while he might have to answer to Fleet Command for the Cerberus’ destruction, someone out there in one of those battered and blackened pods could possibly… Possibly? My ruddy arse! Mos’ assur’dly!… be the saboteur directly culpable in all of this.

Mac sighed heavily, then drained away half of the coffee in a single, aggravated tip of the cup. He stood, for a long while, silently nursing the remainder of the brew as he alternated his study of the LCARS terminal over Duncan’s shoulder with the perusal of the bobbing ASRV’s beyond the viewport and the vast expanse of emptiness in which they floated. His mind had drifted homeward during that time and he wondered about Chan and what she must be thinking (if the news had even made it to Caldos IV, yet). He wondered, too, if he might ever see her again and, in that same thought, was exceedingly grateful that his wife had chosen to leave her Starfleet career behind all those years ago… Ye’d’ve been oot ‘ere wi’ me, wouldn’ ye, me bonney apple-blossom? An’ likely squirreled away in yer blinkin’ labr’tory when th’ ship…
His stomach protested at even the imagining of it and, as if assuring him that Chantelle was far from lost from him, Mac was certain that he’d caught a fleeting whiff of that apple-blossom scent that he’d always associated with his wife. Ye cannae let yer mind wander tha’ road, Jack-lad, he advised himself, turning away from the FC terminal and returning the now empty coffee mug to the replicator’s reclamation port before flopping back down into his seat, Keep yer thoughts onna wairk a’ hand an’ worra aboot th’ rest when th’ time’s more appropriate, aye?
Another tired sigh passed the Captain’s lips and he took a moment to rub at his temples and then pinch the bridge of his nose in hopes of alleviating the fatigue induced headache that had lodged itself behind his eyes. Between the information and speculation that had been bandied back and forth in the past day, the review of the casualty reports, and the efforts made in getting the surviving pods and crew assembled and working again as bets they could, Mac realized that his brain was having more than a bit of trouble sorting through the multiple thought processes… he was more than tired… He reached for the PADD again, regardless, and tried to focus his attention back on the names of the missing and the dead… their ghosts chased them into his dreams when he wasn’t able to fight off sleep any longer.

Stardate 09.06.2374 – 1220 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
An urgent warbling from the comm. panel snapped Mac back to wakefulness. At first, as had been the case in his nightmare, he mistook the incoming sensor ping for a warning claxon ringing through the Cerberus’ decks and was on his feet, prepared to bark out orders even before he was fully aware that he had been dumped back into reality.

=/\\= Incoming vessel detected=/\\= the computer intoned, =/\\= Starfleet transponder signature detected. =/\\=

Everyone in the cramped pod sat up straight as Duncan quickly reviewed the information on the screen and couldn't contain the excitement in his voice as he turned to MacTavish; "By God, they found us, sir! It's the Charon!"

Et’s aboot bloody time, Kel, Mac’s inward sigh was one of relief. He snatched his discarded jacket from the seat and shrugged the thing over his shoulders as he stepped forward to the CEO’s side.

“Open us a channel, then, Mester Cameron,” Mac ordered, “Let’s get our crew oot o’ these boxes an’ back inna fight, aye?”

((assuming an “Aye sir,” an opening of said channel, and of course a response from the Charon))

“Attention USS Charon,” Jack began, “This es Captain Jack MacTavish, USS Cerberus. A warp core breach an’ failure of critical emergency systems ‘as resulted en th’ destruction o’ Starfleet vessel NCC-83964 an’ th’ loss o’ 132 crewmen abaird. Th’ remainin’ 15 ASRVs’ve been clustered as per battlefield recov’ry protocols an’ await yer int’rvention a’ coordinates bein’ transmitted tae ye…” He nodded to Duncan who wordlessly sent the coordinates to the approaching Saber-class frigate… “We’ve eighty-one Starfleet personnel an’ six repr’sentatives o’ th’ Romulan Star Empire fer recovery, along wi’ the remainin’ cloak an’ wha’e’er data me crew’s managed ta salvage from the library dumps prior tae the destruction o’ the vessel an’ a bit more tha’s been gathered en the past 24 hours per our own limited investigations.

Cerberus standin’ by fer further direction an’ recovery op’rations.”

((OOC: Still more in the works, gang… including the updates for Mr Stinky and replies to Duncan’s latest… Figured I’d go ahead and tack this bit up so you didn’t have to scroll through three hundred pages of a single post… ))

Stardate 09.05.2374 – approx 1800 hours
ASRV-83964:E-025, deployed from USS Cerberus

=/\\\\= Chirp.=/\\\\= the pod’s communication’s panel warbled, =/\\\\= This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish . Repeat: This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish.=/\\\\=

“Acknowledged, E-025,” Lt Dixon replied before initiating protocols to secure the line and muting the comm-channel, “Stand by.”

Arriving at the FC station, the Captain placed one hand on Dixon’s shoulder and used the other to free the holding comm. channel. “MacTavish,” he said simply, “Wha’s on yer mind, Centruion?”

There was no way to make this any easier so Sienae just started.

“I am sure that were we the number one suspect,” there is a lengthy pause. "I will speak for the three others with me and place my life and honor in your hands that they had nothing to do with the loss of your ship.” Again a pause, “As you know there are many on your side and ours, and both of our enemies, that would not want any sort of mutual relationship between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Unfortunately, I can not deny the Romulan factors were not involved in the sabotage of you ship. I was given an in-house warning that the Tal Shiar were not happy with the Navy agreeing to the loan of two cloaking devices to the Federation.”

Sienae took a deep breath, dreading a fiery explosion of tortured English. A bone chilling silence lead her to go on.

“I was thinking one much of the samye lines as you team as Lt Shiarrel Pardek acomcluded that the ship was sabotaged, after reviewing data from the ships download.

“Two of my surviving scientists were in engineering on 09.03 from 1100 hours to 1200,” she refrained from saying the day the Cerberus exploded, “doing a level one diagnostic and the completing a full report of the test. I asked my people if they had seen anything that could be called suspicious activity. Here is what she reported. As I taped it, and all conversation on board since we entered the ASRV.”

Sienae activated her PADD and Shiarrel’s voice sounded in the ASRV on replay.

“The only unusual activity was in engineering is this ‘Mr. Stinky’ in Engineering. Everyone, even his fellow crewmates avoid his presence. His odor is most especially foul. He is slovenly and looks like he sleeps in his uniform, though no one seems to pay much attention to him except to hurry by him or brush him out of the way. His sort would not have been tolerated in The RSN.”

“I have made of point of watching him every time I was in Engineering. I do know his name is Stan David Stowbreiski. The last time I had seen him was near the warp containment field during our last check/scan on the CD. He had dropped his PADD, and instead of stooping to pick it up as I have seen other humans do, he bent over, putting a hand on the control console by the warp containment cell and exposed the fact that he was NOT clean at all. The other part about that incident that rings odd, is after he picked up his PADD. He gave his PADD a pat with his hand and raised his eyebrows at the crewman who’d witnessed the whole affair in an apologetic gesture. “Jellyfingers,” he is what he said to the other disgusted looking crew member present. Where not the humans the first to coin the phrase Butter Fingers?” These facts are the only items to stand out as odd and unusual happenings on board the ship I have witnessed.”
Sienae clicked the Recording off.

“We questioned one of your security men about the term Jellyfingers and he said all he knew were Butter fingers and Sticky fingers. Take it as you will,” Sienae commented, “At this point that is all I have to report.........”

Suddenly there is a cry, “Look out,” that comes from somewhere on the ASRV and then a thud and a closer cry of pain.”

Just as Sienae finished one of the crewman was moving about the cramped ASRV when he came too close to the Cloaking Device and tripped, sending him head long into the control console where Sienae was sitting. He tried to grab the back of the seat to keep from falling and missed so that his arm slammed into Sienae’s shoulders and then slid down hard against her back and fell.

Over the com Mac could hear a flurry of movement as S’Talon grabbed the fallen man and jerked him up, luckily an easier task in the lighter gravity. At this point no one was talking directly to the captain, but the com picked up noises and converstions going one close to it.

“Sorry, sir,” the crewman offered as S’Talon went to Sienae’s slumped form.

“It’s not your fault son,” came the replied. “Rhiana, get the medical kit.”

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1530 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
“…Are yew seein’ an’ hearin’ me, now, Mester Cameron,” Mac demanded now that his CEO appeared to have been snapped back to the moment.

“Sir,” Cameron said at last, “Aye sir!”

“Bloody brilliant,” MacTavish chuffed, “then quit eyeballin’ me as ef yer aboot tae kick me arse an’ move yers, monkey-boy! I’ve a’ready wasted more’n enough o’ me time doin’ the reel wi’ ye an’d like tae get tae wairk!”

There was a vaguely familiar crinkling sound follwed by the horrid, wretching spasms and thick splashing that could only mean one thing. Och! Yer fargin’ kiddin’ me, he sneered, Who inna ‘ell’s pukin’ on me bloody…
Mac wheeled around, prepared to unload on yet another crew member who had allowed him or herself to be consumed by the moment and forgot that, at the moment, nothing mattered but surviving . “Ef I’ve go’ ta bloody well…”

His stern glare was met by the large, wet, blinking eyes of the oh-so-young Ensign who had been standing post at Science I… Lyvette, he reminded himself, wondering why her pained expression had choked off his prepared rebuke.

“I’m sorry I puked in your pod, sir,” Ensign Lyvette muttered softly, “I didn’t mean to. But I didn’t get it on your deck.” She looked at him, then, with a face that was unsure if what she said was funny and she should laugh at it, or if she should start crying.

It was then that it hit the crusty Scot right in the gut… no… higher than that… in the heart. That look reminded him of another flighty bird of a Science Officer that he had encountered years ago aboard the USS Discovery. Skittish, nervous, awkward, and more than a little uncertain about how to move among people…

Prob’ly a fair sight more chatty tae computers er plants er sommat, Mac imagined, unable to keep a faint smile of reminiscence from creeping across his lips, Stoof me as a haggis if she dinnae call Chan tae mind!
“‘S a’right, Ensign,” Mac rumbled softly, crouching in front of the girl and fixing her with a gaze that he hoped was, at least, vaguely recognizable as reassurance, “Pukin’s far from th’ wairst tha’ coulda ‘appened, aye?”

Lyvette was already trying to free herself from the seat but, with a bag of vomit in one hand, releasing the catches from her restraints wasn’t so easily managed with just the one other free.

Slowly, so as not to set the skittish Science Officer off on another bout of stomach emptying, he reached a hand out to assist. “Now, lass,” he continued, stabilizing one part of the clasp so she could thumb the release on the other half, “ef ye think yer empty, why don’ ye dispose o’ tha’, ge’ yerself squared away, an’ then see wha’ ye c’n do tae help Mester Rrowl, aye?”

He wasn’t sure if she’d even acknowledged with as much as a nod but, once free of the restraining harness, Ensign Lyvette stood on jelly legs and cast a rather nervous and somewhat embarrassed glance at the rest. Mac, too, rose to his feet and stepped clear of the young Ensign as she made her way to the replicator where she leaned against the wall and put the bag on the platform then hit the button to make it disappear before requesting a glass of water.

He watched her patiently as she gathered her wits and sipped slowly at the water to clear the taste of vomit from her mouth.

“I’ll get on those scans in a moment,” she whispered to him after a few sips, “… just… I’m sorry sir…” Ensign Lyvette turned her back on the pod, then, obviously still not quite centered enough to face the rest just yet.

Mac clasped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and left it at that. “Et’ll be a’right, Ensign,” he whispered, “Keep yer mind en th’ ‘ere an’ now, lass, an’ ever’then’ll be jus’ bloody brilliant.” With that, Captain MacTavish left the fresh from Frisco Ensign to her centering and moved to assist the rest where he could.

((OOC: Back and forth, etc, as you see fit… ))


Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001

“MacTavish. Wha’s on yer mind Centurion?”

=/\\=I am sure that were we the number one suspect,=/\\= the Romulan woman wasted no time in coming to the point – in all honesty, it was this trait that had actually kindled Mac’s grundging respect for her.

Mac, staring out the viewport to where E-025 hung in space, neither confirmed nor denied what his suspicions might have been; instead he folded his arms across his chest, nodded silently, and waited for her to continue.

=/\\=I will speak for the three others with me and place my life and honor in your hands that they had nothing to do with the loss of your ship,=/\\= Centurion Khnialmnae said after a moment. =/\\=As you know, there are many on your side and ours, and both of our enemies, whom would not want any sort of mutual relationship between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Unfortunately I can not deny the Romulan factors were not involved in the sabotage of you ship. I was given an in-house warning that the Tal Shiar were not happy with the Navy agreeing to the loan of two cloaking devices to the Federation.=/\\=

Mac drew in a long, slow breath, and counted silently to ten. His steel-hued eyes flicked in Rrowl’s direction for an instant as if to say Th’ lass sounds’s ef we’re tae be s’prised, then back to his perusal of the pod from which Sienae was transmitting, and expelled the breath just as slowly.

“Centurion,” Mac stated calmly in the wake of that breath, “I’ll no’ deny tha’ I considered ye likely suspects as tae wha’s ‘appened, nor will I tell ye tha’ th’ involvement o’ yer Tal’Shiar’s no’ been tak’n inta account long e’re ye mentioned et.

Wha’ I will tell ye, Sienae,” he continued, using the Romulan’s first name for the first time without follwing it sharply with her last, “es tha’ ye an’ those o’ yer lot tha’ remain be n’more suspect than me Engineerin’ Chief a’ this point. Aft’r all, lass, ef any o’ ye ‘ad been responsible, I dinnae expect ye’d’ve scampered fer a pod rather’n ‘ave died a less painful death b’stayin’ abaird, aye? Sure an’ th’ Cerberus were sabotaged bu’ dinnae worra yer ‘ead aboot bein’ inna top spot, lass; as much as there’ll be fingers pointin’ yer way fer conveniences sake, I’m no’ daft enough tae put ye up tha’ ‘igh.

Far as I be consairned, Centurion, we all be’s likely’s th’ next.”

((replies, looks of shock, fainting, etc…))

Khnialmnae continued on with her report, efficiently dispensing the evidence and information that she and her counterparts had already managed to cobble together. For his part, Mac listened intently through the length of the recording and said nothing to interrupt or contest. His one physical reaction to the thing was a sidelong glance at Cameron…

Sowbreiski… Engineerin… Verbal warnin’ fer not warshin’ ‘is arse… survivor… on E-013 wit’ th’ jarheads…
=/\\=We questioned one of your security men about the term Jellyfingers and he said all he knew were Butter fingers and Sticky fingers. Take it as you will,=/\\= Sienae commented, =/\\=At this point that is all I have to report...=/\\=

“Thank ye, lass,” Mac rumbled, “I’ll be sure tae keep all o’ this en mind. I appreci…”

A crash, a cry of pain, and the sudden chaos of commotion squelched across the comm. “Centurion Khnialmnae,” Mac queried, a scowl etching itself into its customary place on the Scot’s face.

=/\\=…Sorry, sir…=/\\=

Mac stabbed a finger at the LCARS console, pinging E-025’s comm panel with an attention tone; “E-025, acknowledge.”

=/\\=…not your fault… get the medical kit…=/\\=

Mac clenched his teeth and pinged E-025 again. “Ef one o’ ye does no’ answer me en th’ next second,” he growled, “I swear tae Chroi…”

=/\\=Yessir,=/\\= a voice responded =/\\=Sorry about that, sir… I… uh… stumbled over the Centurion, sir, and…uh… think I might’ve hurt her… a little…=/\\=

“Fargin’ grand, Anderson,” Mac growled, assuming he was now addressing the Security Officer listed as being aboard E-025 with the Romulans, “as ef we’ve no’ enough tae worra aboot, ye pop off an’ bring me a medical incident!”

=/\\=Sorry, sir. It was an accident and…=/\\=

“Zip it, Mester Anderson,” MacTavish snapped, “Es she a’right?”

=/\\=Undetermined, Captain. They’re looking at her now.=/\\=

“Keep me posted.”

=/\\=Aye sir.=/\\=

((OOC: Again, anything that needs to be added, addressed, etc… Okay… takes care of ‘Curie’ and the Centurion… Next up, backposts for Duncan, catching up with Stan, and more of the rescue and recovery… plus whatever else might need replies between now and then you bunch o’ post crazy monkeys!))