The Black Knights flew through the enemy formations, all sensors set to passive recognition. Jayce's palms were sweating--to fly a cloaked ship through a formation of cloaked capitol ships using displacement shields is unnerving, to say the least. Finally, a red indicator light on his control panel began blinking, a single frequency modulation playing across his on-board display screen.

"Bingo!" he said aloud, adjusting his canopy's filtration frequency to match the display. Almost immediately, the shadowy outlines of the displaced capships appeared. "Quicksilver--I got it," Jayce said. "923.755 sub-Beta six," he continued.

"Good work, Jayce. Knights, adjust all filtration frequencies and set your targetting computers to recognize that frequency. Prep your dumb-fires and heat-seekers only, image recognition and friend-or-foe missiles won't work on ConFed ships. Let's lock and load, Knights!"

The squadron of Dragons descended upon the Concordia-class carrier which was engaged with the {Ajax}, in an attempt to save the smaller ship from destruction. Maniac flew into the flight deck of the carrier, strafing the interior of the ship. Jayce watched as he blasted out the rear of the carrier, an explosion licking at his thrusters. The rest of the Knights de-cloaked, and began pouring missiles onto the carrier. Jayce targetted the bridge, watching with some satisfaction as gouts of flame burned away the oxygen as it escaped into space. The carrier was about to go down.

"{Knights}, pull away from the carrier--She's gonna go!" yelled Jayce, flying dangerously close to the Ajax as he escaped. Then came the flash of light, followed shortly by the shockwave, which shook Jayce's fighter, tossing it end over end. He wrestled for control, trying to muscle his way into the shadow of the Ajax, when it, too exploded. Jayce was caught in a second shockwave, and struggled desperately to avoid the chunks of shrapnel as they flew towards his smaller craft. Finally, it was over, and Jayce had somehow managed to ride the wave. He did a summary check of his systems--his communication was out, and the targetting computer was on the fritz.

"Damn!" he thought. Looking up, he saw the Vesuvius & the St. Helens facing each other, the Vesuvius lumbering closer and closer as the St. Helens poured missile and laser fire into her oncoming hull. It was then that Jayce saw the fighter-craft decloak, and kamikaze straight into the side of the mighty Vesuvius. Then he saw another, and another--fully 6 kamikaze ships collided with the Vesuvius, which slowly rolled in space, as chunks of her hull simply disappeared. Only anti-matter explosions caused such severe damage, but fighters didn't use an anti-matter propulsion drive... "Oh no," he muttered, realization slamming him like a baseball bat. "I've gotta warn VAXMigrator." Jayce hit his afterburners and flew as fast as he could towards the Battlestar--hopefully not too late...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

On the bridge of the St. Helens...

Admiral Nimitz concentrated on the Vesuvius as she lumbered ever closer, trading shots with the St. Helens. The ship shook hard when the torpedoes hit, and Nimitz ordered a full offensive strike on Kraken's Dreadnought. When the huge explosion temporarily blinded him, all he could do was stare in dumbfounded amazement.

"That's impossible," he muttered, finally able to see the broken hulks of the majority of his escorts drifting around the VAXMigrator. "Lieutenant, launch the drone ships," Nimitz ordered. He turned his attention back to the Vesuvius as she drifted to a halt about 200 meters ahead. Nimitz watched as several smaller ships launched from the Vesuvius. He concentrated a sensor sweep on one, and saw it was a fully loaded transport shuttle. Nimitz smiled.

"Lieutenant, have our gunners target those shuttles. Kraken has ordered an abandon ship, in the hopes of saving as many lives as possible. Let's break him. Send several drone ships at the Vesuvius, and back away--make our distance 800 meters." Nimitz glanced over the tactical displays again, noticing the swarms of fighters from both sides. He smiled, thinking of a way to clear away the pesky 'mosquitoes' in order to concentrate on his primary target. He knew Jayce Brilliam was out there, somewhere, and he wanted to get rid of the annoying pilot once and for all...

"Mr. Anderson, send cloaked drone ships to these locations--here, here, here, and here. Let me know when they get there," Nimitz ordered, pointing to the holographic positions as he spoke. Each was in a large cluster of fighter craft--enemy & ally alike.

After several seconds, Anderson reported. "Drone ships in place, sir."

"Good. Detonate them."

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

"Sir!" yelled Sonya to Kraken as she towed Lal from the bridge, "The Vesuvius is lost! Come with us!"

"Damn it, Major, you know I won't do that. I'm gonna get that b*stard Nimitz if it's the last thing I do. Get to the transports! Now! They're almost full!"

Sonya watched as the bridge collapsed, then the soldier in her kicked in. "Yes, sir. Give him hell, Admiral!"

Kraken turned his head halfway toward her, and for an instant, she thought she saw the slightest twinge of a smile on the corner of his mouth - and was that... sadness? It was gone almost as soon as she'd spotted it, and immediately Kraken was back over the console, hunched over the display, pressing buttons and issuing commands. Although Sonya knew the commands were for the computer, in her mind she could see the ghosts of his bridge crew saluting and following his orders, loyal to the very end...

* * *

Sonya pulled Lal along the corridor - the two ran at full speed down the corridor until they reached docking bay A-7. Sonya could see out into space from here, and there were three large transports lifting away from the Vesuvius and moving into space. The Vesuvius' magnetic field made the transports' shields show up in red at close range as if they were on fire... as they pulled away, the halo shifted into the invisible part of the spectrum. Far off in the distance, the tiny lights of explosions and weapons lit up the black backdrop of the sky.

The docking bay was surprisingly empty... all the transports had departed. Sonya scanned the docking bay, but there was nothing. She clenched her hands into fists, then let them drop helplessly to her sides.

"Wait," said Lal, "We can use the tug."

"What?" asked Sonya.

"I was studying the specs before the transfer," said Lal, her eyes glazing over as she recited her knowledge, "This class and other large vessels always have a tug. They use the tug to help bring large or bulky ships or cargo into the docking bay safely."

"But the tug doesn't even have shields!" said Sonya.

"Neither will the {Vesuvius} in a minute." As if in response to Lal's prophecy, several huge ships came flying straight at and into the hull of the Vesuvius causing it to shake and crack. The forcefield on the bay entry-way shuddered and burst. Sonya grabbed a lungful of air - her skin felt naked and open exposed to vaccuum. Lal's lips moved and she pulled Sonya along the deckplates to the holding compartment where the tiny tug was located, and it was tiny. The vessel was little more than a seat with thrusters, a tractor beam, and a cockpit. Sonya looked left and right - there would not be enough room for the two of them. Almost in response to Sonya's thought, Lal touched a sequence into her mobile emitter, loading herself into it instantly. Sonya took the device onto her belt, lept into the cockpit, and activated the atmosphere.

The tug pulled away into the dark, shining its laser-locator as it navigated its way out into space, and hopefully, toward safety.

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Transport 5-G was being rocked from both sides as detonation drones swarmed in on every side. The Doctor, who strangely enough looked exactly like Greyfox, looked out the port-hole and saw two sister-transports explode like eggs from the inside out, fire from within both erupting with the release of oxygen into space, then immediately extinguishing, leaving vacuum-burns on the remnants of the hulls and crew as they floated in space.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then made a run for the cockpit. The crewmembers of the Vesuvius cheered as he moved up the aisle.

That's Admiral Greyfox! He's alive!

***

"Excuse me," said the hologram to the pilots, "I need to open a communication to the St. Helens."

"Admiral! We... took you into... custody..."

"No hard feelings. I'm still sworn to protect this crew, so if you please, the frequency!"

The pilots, dumbfounded, complied.

"Admiral Nimitz! This is Admiral Lynxor."

On the comm-panel, Nimitz' ugly face appeared, gloating. "Well, well, Shadowknight, you seem to move about with great ease. How foolish of you to leave the VAXMigrator unattended and without a Captain."

The Doctor was inwardly sweating - he had no idea what Nimitz was talking about, but he had to play this bravado through. In his best Greyfox voice, he continued, "I have no intention of allowing the VAXMigrator or its crew to go down. Stop the assault. You can have me, just as you wanted, but you must let them go. Call off your assault."

Nimitz paused, whispering something to his second. "Admiral, I am scanning for your lifesigns. We are having difficulty determining which transport you are on."

"I have used 4-space to mask my life signs, as well as masked the source of our transmission. I will only reveal myself to you if you CALL OFF YOUR ASSAULT!"

Patiently, the Doctor waited... the pilots and the whole compliment of the transport held their breath, lamenting at their leader's sacrifice, or lamenting at their own if he should fail.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

the St. Helens backed away from the lumbering hulk of the Vesuvius, the whole time firing shots at the escaping shuttles. Nimitz watched with some satisfaction as several of the shuttles erupted, spewing their charges into the cold depths of space. Greyfox's face appeared on the viewscreen.

"Admiral Nimitz! This is Admiral Lynxor."

"Well, well, Shadowknight, you seem to move about with great ease. How foolish of you to leave the VAXMigrator unattended and without a Captain," Nimitz gloated.

Greyfox responded in a strong, even voice, "I have no intention of allowing the VAXMigrator or its crew to go down. Stop the assault. You can have me, just as you wanted, but you must let them go. Call off your assault."

Nimitz paused for a second, then whispered to his XO, "Isolate the frequency of this transmission, and target it with everything available to us." Nimitz stalled for time, speaking to Greyfox. "Admiral, I am scanning for your lifesigns. We are having difficulty determining which transport you are on."

"I have used 4-space to mask my life signs, as well as masked the source of our transmission. I will only reveal myself to you if you CALL OFF YOUR ASSAULT!" Greyfox was adamant, crossing his arms in defiance of Nimitz's treachery. As the crew and passengers of the shuttle waited and hoped, a HUGE explosion lit up space itself with an intense, white light. The viewscreen went blank as the interference and radiation from the explosion cut the signal...

Nimitz shielded his eyes as the Vesuvius blew up, cursing as the signal from Greyfox was lost. "Did you get a trace?" he asked.

"Only a partial trace, sir," Anderson reported, displaying a sector of space with 24 shuttles clustered together, trying to escape the ever-growing shockwave from the Vesuvius. The St. Helens shook as the shockwave hit her, and several sparks played across the consoles on the bridge. "Sir, our displacement shield has been damaged. We can't bring it back up again," Anderson reported.

"No matter--we won't need it anymore. Target those shuttles, ensign. I want them all destroyed."

"Aye, sir."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

As the remaining seven ships from Nimitz's force approached the VAXMigrator, Powers and Albright seemed to get nervous. Albright stared at the display screen, watching the ships draw nearer... Greyfox folded his hands under his chin, and studied the way the ships moved. He watched as the smaller explosions became visible--the fighters were still harrassing the larger ships. The Sheffield & Andromeda flew among the refugees from Vesuvius, apparently picking up the survivors. Greyfox smiled.

"Nimitz has made a mistake in his tactics," he said evenly. "Tractor beams, maneuver the debris between us and the enemy ships. Mr. McBride, set course for the St. Helens, flank speed. Lt. Albright, send a ship-wide announcement, evacuating all but a skeleton crew from the Talona section. Mr. Powers, assemble boarding teams and issue side-arms." As Greyfox spoke, the respective crew members went about their duties...

On the bridge of the St. Helens...

Nimitz looked on as the VAXMigrator lurched forward, the wall of debris moving with her. As the Battlestar gained speed, Nimitz saw his own ships trying to evade the oncoming behemoth. One of the carriers was caught by the controlled debris, and exploded spectacularly.

"Helm, make course adjustments. Set for combat speed... VAXMigrator is up to something," Nimitz said. He watched as the debris field shifted behind the VAXMigrator, forming another wall behind her, again separating herself from Nimitz's fleet. Nimitz stared in amazement as the Battlestar hybrid gained more and more speed, closing the gap between herself and the St. Helens. "Weapons, target the VAXMigrator. Helm adjust course--I want full evasive maneuvers," Nimitz ordered. Still, the VAXMigrator gained speed...

On the bridge of the VAXMigrator...

"Sir, Talona's crew is on the move," said Albright.

"Tractor teams are keeping the enemy ships busy. One destroyed and one disabled," reported Powers.

Greyfox nodded. "Give them an extra dose. power up rear-firing weapons only. Coordinate with the tractor teams and fire through the spaces between the debris. Make it last as long as we can. Mr. McBride, Keep us aimed at Nimitz no matter what he does." Greyfox was buying the Sheffield & Andromeda time to get away before completing this maneuver. He didn't want them to become targets again...

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

"Pilot," says the Doctor, "Did you get a trace on HIS transmission frequency?"

"Yes sir, Admiral," says the pilot.

"I want the exact frequency and coordinates. Feed them into our transmitter."

"Aye, sir."

"I'm teleporting over to the St. Helens. As soon as I'm gone, I want you to take this device," the Doctor points at his mobile emitter, "and transmit this program on that frequency to the St. Helens."

The pilot was notably confused, but made the preparations. "What will the transmission do?"

"Never you mind," said the image of Greyfox, "Just see to it that you transmit the signal faithfully."

"Aye, sir."

The Doctor gave an Admiral's salute to the pilots of the transport. He took one look out the window at the St. Helens as it veered toward the VAXMigrator, surrounded in space by dozens of fighters and debris. With a leap of faith, he bid adeau and pulled the emitter from his arm, vanishing away.

"Godspeed, Admiral Lynxor," whispered the pilot, taking the emitter from the floor and loading its program into the subspace transmitter...

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

The St. Helens was headed toward VAXMigrator, it's massive weaponry trained. Nimitz chuckled, then stroked a hand through his balding grey hair which stuck out almost like horns from his head. Nimitz smoothed the hair down again and let out a breath, his piercing eyes on the holographic monitors. "VAXMigrator, your time has come." You will regret ever having left her alone, he thought, i/{I shall have your secrets, VAXMigrator even if I have to destroy you and pick through the rubble one piece at a time.}

"Shall I fire, sir?" asked his corporal, dressed all in black, but missing the tiny red skull insignia.

"No," said Nimitz. His crew looked nervously back and forth. "I shall do it myself."

Nimitz pushed aside the Bridge Gunner and started entering a sequence of codes into the targetting computer. Hull-piercing torpedos. "Computer, I want you to insert... payload Omega six."

"Warning... the Omega six payload has been banned by interstellar law."

"Out here, I am the law!" shouts Nimitz at the computer. "Fleet Admiral's corneal-voice authorization code Seti-Sigma-Four."

"Authorization confirmed, Fleet Admiral. The payload has been inserted."

"Yes," smiled the Admiral.

"No!" came a voice from behind.

Nimitz spun around, absolutely amazed that Greyfox was standing right behind him. "Omega six was outlawed for a reason, Nimitz. I can't believe that even you would stoop so low."

"Admiral Lynxor," said Nimitz cordially, "War is war, and the VAXMigrator is responsible for some of the most heinous war crimes imaginable. As are you, Jayson. I see that you have put the timestream at risk once again by manipulating the fabric of fourspace to board my vessel."

"You're not launching that torpedo," said Greyfox, "if you launch the classified Omega six substance into the VAXMigrator, the radiation will kill the entire crew in the most horrible way."

"You had your chance to avert this, Greyfox. You should have surrendered when you had the chance. You would have saved a lot of lives. But because of your selfish arrogance, you have made these hundreds guilty by association... guilty for aiding the greatest villian the galaxy has ever known, one who threatens the very fabric of reality itself."

The Doctor thought back to the readings in sickbay... Greyfox's mind had been off the scale, unexplainable by any of his methods. But now he was beginning to see the flip side... it was this great power, this great gift, that had made Greyfox not only a hero, but also so very hated.

"Small minds often fear what they do not understand," he said, smiling as he knew Greyfox would have. Nimitz charged him, swinging his huge arms - Nimitz was amazingly well-muscled for a man his age, ex-war hero and five star general. Nimitz landed a fist straight against his adversary's chin. The Doctor buckled backwards - Nimitz nailed him again and again, his bridge crew looking on in amazement. But the Doctor was not amazed... he knew very well Nimitz' service record and fighting abilities.

The Doctor, untrained in the fighting arts, merely phased, making himself insubstantial. Nimitz' swing took him clear through the Doctor and out the other side.

Greyfox seemed to chuckle, then, with a wild swing, punched Nimitz in the kidney...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Mr. Anderson looked from Nimitz to the oncoming VAXMigrator, back to Nimitz, then at the weapons console. He reached over, and pressed the 'launch' button.

"NO!" the Doctor yelled, to Nimitz's evil laughter.

"Observe, Jayson, as your precious Battlestar is destroyed!" Nimitz growled, lunging at him once again...

On the bridge of the VAXMigrator...

"Sir, all crew evacuated from Talona, Commander Richards said as he strode onto the bridge. Greyfox turned to regard him, when Lt. Albright blurted out a report.

"The St. Helens has fired a spread of 12 torpedoes, Sir," he said, alarmed. He turned to look at the admiral, adding, "They're armed with the Omega-six payload." Greyfox's expression slackened slightly.

"Tractor teams, disengage from the debris field and set tractors for full power on the St. Helens. Mr. McBride, set the engines for maximum speed, course heading... 327.4. On my mark, disengage mag-locks," Greyfox ordered, pressing buttons on the arm of his chair as he spoke. "Mr. Powers, are the boarding teams ready?" he spoke into the comm-link.

"Yes, Sir--we're all in position here," Powers reported.

"Good. Your objectives will be main engineering, the bridge, and the flight deck. You know what to do--make it happen," Greyfox said, then switched off the comm. "Mr. McBride, have we reached full speed?"

"Aye, Sir."

"Disengage mag-locks. Tractor teams, push us up & away from the Talona. Give us 800 meters. As soon as the St. Helens is in range, lock onto her..."

The VAXMigrator lifted off the top of the Talona, the bundle of wires linking the control systems straining like a bungee cord, before snapping completely off in a shower of sparks. On inertia alone, she drifted towards the St. Helens, right over the incoming torpedoes. The Talona slammed headlong into the devices, a myriad of explosions rocking her forward hull--and she was knocked off course by a good 50 degrees, gouts of flame spewing from her nose-section. A secondary explosion caused a flash of light toward the rear of the ship, and she spun again, this time continuing to spin as her starboard engine pushed the massive ship around the dead port engine. 3 of the pursuing ships from Nimitz's fleet closed with the Talona, pouring ordnance into her hull. Finally, the mighty vessel could take no more, and in a blinding flash of white light, exploded--taking her 3 assailants with her as her anti-matter power source went critical...

"All hands, Brace for impact!" Greyfox shouted over the comm, as the shockwave hit the VAXMigrator, actually pushing her closer to the St. Helens. The lights on the bridge flickered and went dim, and metallic ceiling-panels were shaken loose from their places. VAXMigrator gained speed as she was tossed forward, towards the St. Helens, which was now merely 1 km away.

"Sir! We have a lock! Tractor beams set to full power!" shouted Richards, who had taken Powers' seat at operations.

"Stand by, mag-lock control," shouted Greyfox over the rumblings of the battlestar's shaking hull.

On the bridge of the St. Helens...

Nimitz watched as the two ships separated, his Omega-six torpedoes slamming into the wrong section. In shocked surprise, he witnessed the VAXMigrator cruising ever closer, and the Talona's final explosion. As the shockwave spread outwards, he saw the battlestar get caught on its fringe--like driftwood in the tides--then stabilize and continue its journey toward his ship. Just as the shockwave overtook the St. Helens, so did the VAXMigrator.

Both ships shook hard. People were flung about like rag-dolls as the ships got caught in the shockwave. The lights on the VAXMigrator went completely black, with the sounds of crunching, grinding metal echoing through her corridors. Then, several popping noises could be heard above the shouts of the crewmen, as the mag-locks clamped down on the top of the St. Helens. Then, the nose of the VAXMigrator sank lower, lower, and finally stopped as it met the upper hull of the St. Helens as well. After several seconds, the shaking subsided, and only the creaking of stressed metal could be heard, as the two ships settled together, nose-to-stern and belly-to-top, with the \iVAXMigrator} attached to the St. Helens.

Finally, the emergency lights flickered on, the eerie red glow filtering up from the metallic grate floor. The bridge crew was just now returning to their seats...

"Report," said Greyfox, looking around his bridge. McBride pushed Albright's body off of his console, and took some readings.

"We have no power. 4 of the 12 mag-locks are functioning. Hull integrity down to 70%. Life support on minimal. What little sensor readings I'm getting show our hull to be magnetized somehow--" McBride looked at Greyfox with a confused expression. Greyfox just nodded, tapping his comm-badge.

"Mr. Powers, begin your assault." Greyfox looked around the bridge once more, spotting Richards as he stood up. "Commander Richards, you have the bridge. I want repair crews working on the mag-locks immediately--we don't know how long they'll hold." Richards nodded, then started working at his console. "Ensign McBride, you're with me," Greyfox said, turning and striding into his ready room.

Greyfox walked over to a closet, opened it, and pulled out a large, rifle-looking blaster, and a metallic cylinder which resembled a flashlight. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing McBride, and tossed a blaster-pistol to him, as well as a belt with several energy clips on it.

"Let's go get Nimitz," Greyfox said to McBride, and the two made their way down to the lower decks...

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

A Black Hawk fighter detatched from the rest and began firing. Sonya swerved the tiny tug hard right, miraculously avoiding the blast. The Black Hawk figher arced up, taking a few shots at a more tempting target as Sonya pushed on toward the debris field. With luck, there would be a piece large enough to hide behind... that would protect her from some of the laser-fire, but the tug had no shields itself - only a bubble of force which covered the cockpit. They'd be tracked and destroyed as soon as some rogue fighter felt like it. With the VAXMigrator closing on the St. Helens there was no chance to reach safety, and the Andromeda was likewise unreachable. She had to find a way to lie low and not be seen...

Sonya looked up into the black sky, watching as 15 points of light escaped from the St. Helens. "Lal, what's going on up there?" she asked, all the while dodging fragments of Transport Eido.

"The sensors on this tug are primitive," says Lal from inside the computer console, her emitter snapped onto the input port, "I can't even get a visual. But the sky is lighting up with radiation, and it is moving FAST."

Sonya watched as the tiny lights sped across the sky like fireflies. Amazingly, the Talona section of the VAXMigrator detatched and practically absorbed all of the missiles, some imbedded into its hull, some destroyed on impact. But even from this great distance, Sonya could see that one had been knocked erratically off-course, perhaps by the Talona's shields, into space. A bold plan began to develop in Sonya's mind as the rogue torpedo spiraled off-course.

"We need one of those warheads," says Sonya, "the radiation will mask our engine signature. There's a torpedo coming towards us, Lal. Is it still live?"

"Target will be passing within range in 25 seconds," says Lal, "If I estimate correctly. And yes, it is still emitting radiation."

"According to Interstellar Trade Agreements," drolls the tug's male voice, "the transfer of radioactive materials is not authorized for a vehicle of this classification..."

"Lal, shut him up, will you?"

The tug dodges out of the debris field and snatches the leaking torpedo with its cargo beam, then crawls back into hiding amidst the wreckage... in the far away distance, the VAXMigrator engages the St. Helens by attatching to her hull, while at the same time the Andromeda and the Sheffield make their escape through the jump-point.

"We need to keep it as far away from the tug as possible," says Sonya, "Lal, adjust the cargo beam to maximum range. I'm going to pull inside the Ajax for shelter."

"pzzzz...ttt"

Damn, thought Sonya, the radiation is screwing with the on-board computers. Hope you're okay in there, Lal. She shined the navigation beam back and forth, settling inside the Ajax through a huge crater in its hull, amazed at how hollow the ship was inside... whatever destroyed the Ajax had done so with an explosion from the inside out. Probably an engine breach. Bodies floated around the tiny tug as she descended inside - with the A-grav offline, it was as if the bodies were hanging from the ceiling by invisible strings. Sonya ignored them, then pushed them away by flying gently into them, diving further inside, dragging the torpedo behind her. She began to sweat - she suddenly did not feel very well.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Quicksilver had ordered the Black Knights into a defensive cluster amidst the debris VAXMigrator had been towing along behind her. There were plenty of places to power down and wait out the storm, especially with downed pilot-ejection capsules. Flint's fighter was floating next to Quicksilver, and the ejection pods for Talon, Maverick, and Viper were lined up inside the shell of an enemy Victory-class light carrier. Maniac and Vagabond were flying patrol around their makeshift junk-base, while Panther and Catscratch hovered near the downed pilots. Finally, Quicksilver spoke to the rest of the squadron.

"Knights, stay here and watch after everything. I'm going out there to look for Jayce," she said, purpose in her voice. At this point, the fighting outside had been reduced to chaos, and Quicksilver didn't want any of her pilots to be out in it. "So far, we're accounted for. I want to know how he is." With that, she kicked in her burners and flew into the blackness of space, searching...

Jayce flew amidst the enemy capitol ships, watching as VAXMigrator and St. Helens drew closer. He decided against trying to approach the battlestar when he saw what looked like a ramming trajectory. Instead, he flew out and away from the cap-ships, to the dry-dock area of the resupply base. He slowly brought his ship down to a docking pylon, and clamped down. From here he saw the entire battle unfold. He hoped his squadron was alright. He watched the two mighty ships collide and stick together, and the separation of the Talona, as well as her destruction. Then, after several minutes of relative quiet, his sensors picked up an approaching fighter. He homed in on it, and got a make--Dragon class starfighter. With his communications system offline, he would be unable to respond to it. So, thinking on his feet, he ejected an emergency flare from the dorsal side of his ship...

Quicksilver was flying a wide, fanning search pattern, drawing closer and closer to the Kimmeron-5 resupply base. She could see that it had taken substantial damage in the battle, but repair crews seemed to be working dilligently to fix them. Then she saw the emergency flare arc into the black sky, and she traced it trajectory back to a small ship attached to a docking pylon. As she flew closer, she could see it was Jayce. His fighter had been damaged, but he seemed to be okay. She flew above his ship, and inverted, so the ships were canopy-to canopy. Quicksilver put her hand on the transparisteel of her canopy, and Jayce gave her a thumbs-up. He then pointed at his helmet microphone, then drew his finger across his throat, indicating 'dead'.

Quicksilver nodded, indicated with her hand to 'stay put', and then flew away.

"Knights, this is Quicksilver. I found Jayce. Make the move to the following coordinates... We're moving to the resupply base. Knight One out."

In a matter of minutes, the squadron was assembled around Jayce, clamped down to the docking pylon, with space-suit clad technicians tended to external repairs. Soon enough, an environment-bubble could be constructed around the fighters, and the wounded could be brought out and treated. But now, all that could be done was sit and wait. Jayce looked over at the VAXMigrator and St. Helens as they floated in space, the three smaller ships from Nimitz's fleet surrounding them. He wondered what was going on over there...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Commander Powers stood by as the rumbling, shaking hull slowly settled. He listened for the two hulls to lock together with a dull 'clang'. When everything was quiet, he nodded at Major Henries, who activated a small control pad, listening for another metallic clank. when he heard it, a whooshing noise could be heard as atmosphere was pumped into the extendable docking clamp. Henries then opened the cargo airlock on the floor of the cargo hold, descending onto the uper hull of the St. Helens with 4 more marines. Powers looked on as the 5 marines started their plasma-cutters and began cutting a glowing line into the scorched, dented metal just inside the clamped-down tube. It would end up being a hole nearly 25 feet around--more than enough to deploy large amounts of men quickly.

As the final cuts were being made, the marine cutting crew grabbed onto nearby ladders, and a magnetic cargo-lift descended onto the slab of hull they had just freed. It attached with a low thud, then lifted the metallic piece out of place, allowing the gathered marines enough room to descend into the St. Helens via cargo-winches. Powers' group was deployed in under one minute, and the reports from the other two teams indicated they were also aboard Nimitz's ship. Powers nodded, then signalled for the assault to begin--nearly 500 men deployed in under 2 minutes.

Powers had his group head straight for engineering--the closest objective--while Lt. Meyers led her group toward the bridge and Colonel Iverson led his Marine company toward the flight deck, where the heaviest fighting would be expected. 3 150-man Marine companies and 50 various security officers spread out through the St. Helens, rapidly taking sections totally by surprise...

Warning. Hull breaches indicated. Intruder alert. Intruder alert. The computer started droning as a security klaxon sounded. Nimitz stood from his assault on 'Greyfox' and began issuing orders.

"All hands, prepare to repel boarders!" he shouted, slamming his hand down on the ship-wide PA system. Nimitz himself reached under his chair and pulled a large blaster from its hiding place, and the entire bridge crew responded in kind, weapons appearing in their hands. "Seal off the bridge. I don't want anything getting in here," Nimitz commanded. He then turned and looked at the holographic Greyfox, and smiled. "Well, Jayson, it looks like this is the end, for you. Goodbye." As Nimitz said this, he leveled his blaster at 'Greyfox's' head, and smiled. "Any last requests?"

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

"Don't do it, Nimitz!" shouted Greyfox.

"That's Fleet Admiral Nimitz!" he laughs, "request denied! Fire, men!"

All the officers on the bridge aim and fire. Staying solid, the Doctor takes the shots, all 15 of them. He grits his proverbial teeth, then stands there triumphantly. Then he reaches forward and punches Nimitz right in his gaping jaw.

"It'll take more than a level 5 shot to take me out," grins Greyfox. Ah ha, he is the little hothead, thinks the Doctor, stepping then in front of the viewport.

"Greyfox, you are a clever man. But I have been waiting for you." Nimitz signals, and suddenly, an energized net falls from the ceiling, completely entrapping the one known only as... Greyfox.

"Agh, agh!" shouts the Doctor, melodramatically.

"Yes, I thought you might not like that. This energy-matrix was especially designed under my direct supervision. It is a quasi-dimensional confinement matrix. I'm afraid you will discover that it absorbs any extra-dimensional energy it comes into contact with, and that includes, naturally, your four-space abilities. You can't break free. Well, well, Jayson, how do you like your little present?"

"Nimitz!" yells the Doctor.

"With your strength reduced to merely normal, now perhaps this shall be a fair fight." Nimitz takes a seat in the command chair and pumps a few buttons. "I've set the St. Helens to self-destruct mode, silent count-down of course. We are quite safe inside this shielded room. I shall escape unharmed as all your precious marines, your ship, and your crew are blown to smitherines. Ah ha ha haha! Fire, gentlemen! Maximum power!"

The Doctor, as Greyfox, let out a little good-bye wave, and only at the last instant did Nimitz notice the mocking smile, realizing only too late why they hadn't detected any life-signs from Greyfox earlier. "No!" As the bridge crew fired away, the Doctor regained his holographic mode, and vanished, allowing the net to fall uselessly to the deck. The weapons, firing on maximum power, literally burned a hole through the main viewport, which shattered. The vaccuum of space began to suction out every object on the bridge, shredding it into confetti as it passed through the cracks into the unforgiving maw of the eternal.

Nimitz held fast to his command-chair. "Emergency escape... activated!" A bubble of force emerged all around him, cocooning him in his command-chair like a baby in the womb. Damn you, Greyfox! Damn you to hell! he said, activating shields, cloaks, and thrusters. The pod went invisible, escaping through the ceiling and into space.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

The St. Helens lurched as Mr. Anderson was sucked out of the tiny hole in the viewport, his hand still holding onto the control stick for the helm. His entire body was gradually sucked through the 6-inch hole, reducing him into a thin, pasty strand extending out into the vacuum of space. The nose of the ship sank lower as the engines were activated by a command chair slamming into the accelerator. Another crewman grasped desperately onto the railing around the edge of the bridge, trying to reach his console--the console containing the emergency lockdown features. He pulled out his blaster, and fired at the console, causing it to erupt in a shower of sparks, which burned his face as they were sucked into it by the evacuating air supply. He shrieked, and crashed into the dwindling corpse of Mr. Anderson, causing both to shatter through the viewport and into space.

Lt. Meyers gave the order to open fire, as her team rounded a corner and confronted a score of Nimitz's troops. She could see that the bulkhead door was closing off the corridor toward the bridge, and she tapped her comm-badge for some back-up. Laser fire streaked through the hallway, soldiers from both sides dropping to the deck as the fight became deadly. Suddenly, the ship lurched forward, throwing everyone off their feet. Then, the gravity simply stopped, and the combatants found themselves floating in the corridors of the St. Helens.

Colonel Iverson was leading a platoon of marines toward the flight deck when he experienced the sudden loss of gravity.

"Marines, activate mag-lock boots. Be prepared to engage emergency pressure-suits," he ordered, pressing a sequence on the keypad he wore on his left forearm. The marines, without missing a step, marched onto the flight deck, blasting everything that moved--as well as the things that didn't... It was a simple matter of taking aim at the hovering, struggling forms of the black-clad troopers and squeezing rounds off. 'Hardly a challenge,' thought Iverson, contentedly firing away at the enemy soldiers. It was then that he saw the resupply base looming in front of him, through the giant launch-bay on the front of the St. Helens. He watched as crates and enemy bodies started sinking toward the energy-door, and finally realized what was happening.

"We're caught in the gravity well! Marines, fall back! Withdraw to your insertion points, double-time! Go! Go!" Iverson shouted, turning and running for the accessway back to the VAXMigrator. The maglock boots slowed them all down, not being designed for full-sprint running...

Powers' team reached the doors to engineering, taking careful aim, avoiding any shots that would stray near to the reactor core. They made slow headway, as the enemy security team seemed well-trained at defending this area. Finally, Powers made his way to an access panel, and opened it up whil Major Henries and 4 marines defended him. He started re-routing optic chips and hot-wiring circuits, trying to bring the reactor core offline, as well as access the security codes for the ship. Finally, he thought he discovered something, and looked up at the display to see what it was. All he saw was red digits counting down--and they currently read '25' His eyes widened, and he was about to yell a warning, when the entire ship lurched, causing him to slam his head into the corner of the console, and he fell unconscious. Major Henries glanced down at Powers, and saw the count-down sequence. Then, the gravity stopped, causing the marines to activate their maglock boots...

"Marines! We are LEAVING!!!" Henries shouted, grabbing Powers' limp form and carrying him toward s the insertion point. Again, the withdrawal became sluggish as the boots clung to the metal floors of the ship.

Greyfox and McBride Stalked silently through the corridors of the St. Helens, swiftly making their way toward the bridge. Greyfox held a small data-pad with a schematic on it, and he directed McBride into a jeffries tube.

"This should take us straight to the bridge," commented Greyfox, pointing down the narrow tunnel. McBride just nodded, and the two began crawling.

As the two neared the end of the tube, Greyfox heard what sounded like weapons-fire, and he opened the end hatchway just enough to peer through. He saw Nimitz and his bridge crew firing at someone... And then an energy net dropped on the target, giving Greyfox a clearer view--and he saw himself, trapped. He witnessed Nimitz beginning the self destruct sequence, then he watched in silence as Nimitz fired through the double, cracking the viewport. Greyfox quickly slammed the hatch shut and spun it down tight, and turned to clamber out of the tube.

"McBride, we need to get out of here. Nimitz has set the St. Helens to self-destruct. There's a shuttle not far from here--Nimitz always keeps one nearby for a quick escape." Greyfox tapped a sequence on his data-pad, scrolling through schematics. "Here it is. Follow me, if you will, Mr. McBride," Greyfox said, climbing a ladder and opening a secondary tube...

The two came to a small shuttle-craft docked 3 decks above the bridge. It was equipped with maglocks, a tractor beam, a medical suite, and space for 4 passengers, as well as some smaller lasers. Greyfox began powering up the systems, While McBride checked the sensors.

"Sir, we're falling towards the resupply base," McBride commented. Greyfox just nodded, finishing his sequence. The shuttle took off, flying into the blackness of space.

"Computer, isolate the genetic code and life signs of Admiral Malcolm Nimitz. Initiate rescue procedures," Greyfox commanded. McBride stared at him as the computer began its work.

"Sir?" he began, but Greyfox just raised his hand to silence the boy.

"We can't let him get away with this, Ensign. He must be brought to justice," Greyfox said, the computer locking on to a small pod floating several hundred meters away. Greyfox activated the tractor beam, and started pulling Nimitz in. McBride checked his weapon, making sure it was ready, cracking his neck and breathing deeply.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing, Sir," McBride said.

"So do I," responded Greyfox...

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

The Doctor rematerialized on the bridge, this time having regained his true form as a medical doctor. He peered toward the viewport... it was shattered, and the bridge was vacant. He began searching for some explanation, darting from one station to another around the bridge.

One panel shocked him to the core. It was a crewmember-by-member list of the VAXMigrator. After each name, Nimitz had outlined weaknesses and provided a method of neutralization. Months had been invested by Nimitz to obtain a cascade virus to kill the VAXMigrator's captain, work on the extradimensional net had begun even before the first paradox... there were even details on the strange device which had been implanted in Jarrah. The Doctor read on in horror - it was all here, the Omega six, pacts with Earth's enemies. And now, no one would know. He could not escape the Bridge... there were holo-emitters everywhere on the bridge, but not in the passageways... he was trapped.

He hurried to Nimitz' command-area and saw that the ship had been placed on silent countdown, self-destruct mode. The St. Helens' maglocks had also clamped onto the VAXMigrator... this was for keeps. No, he thought, All these people on board... they don't even know that the ship is about to blow! That devil, he's going to murder all of his own men to get to ours!

The Doctor went to the shipboard PA system. Get out! It's a trap! The ship is on self-destruct! he tried to shout, but it was no good, no words escaped his lips. It was then that he realized the bridge had been completely evacuated of its air supply.

He turned his head. Space. The primary objective of the marines would be to take the bridge, quick and dirty. The Doctor shuddered... if they opened that door, they would be killed, sucked into space. He ran to the control panel, but everything was locked out. There was nothing he could do - every bridge control function was limited to officer use only.

He looked left... miraculously, a blaster hung in the air near his waist, and he took it. I hope that psychopath Nimitz didn't activate officer fingerprint and retinal recognition on this gun, too thought the Doctor wryly. The gun charged on, and the Doc blasted the portal controls, sealing them shut. A little delicate surgery, he thought to himself with a chuckle.

He watched out the viewport, watching the two ships plummet, and gave a salute as they fell toward the resupply base. On the base, hundreds of blinking lights were the only indication of the thousands that would soon die. {Adeau he whispered to himself, Adeau.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Jayce watched as the linked ships lurched forward and turned slightly, growing larger as they drew nearer. His eyes went wide, and he looked around to see if any of the other pilots had seen this. He was relieved when he saw them take off. He decided to join them.

"All fighters in flight group Orion, this is Colonel Amanda Stevens. Lock in on this frequency and form on my wing. We're leaving. I repeat we are leaving." She switched channels and spoke to the apparently doomed resupply base. "Kimerron-5 resupply base, begin evacuation procedures. We will escort you to safety. Load as much equipment and tools as you can--we don't know how much of it we'll need when this is over." Quicksilver glanced around and saw fighters drawing nearer, emerging from the scattered debris of the battle, as well as the other moons of Kimerron, the gas-giant. She saw the shuttles from the resupply base, as well as several large tugs and repair barges. She nodded in satisfaction as the survivors of the battle formed up, checking in as they did so.

Of the original 500 fighters from both the Talona & Vesuvius, only 200 remained. Many fighters were towing downed pilots with them, and Quicksilver hoped the death toll wouldn't be as high as 300. Soon enough, the massed fleet of small ships started making their way toward the approaching linked-ships, which were now apparently on a collision course with the resupply base and the moon beyond it.

"Quicksilver, this is Vagabond. I'm picking up some intense radiation levels from the wreckage of Ajax. Should we check it out?"

Quicksilver responded, "Affirmative. Take Maniac and Panther. I'll fly a pattern out here while the group forms up. You have 5 minutes, Vagabond."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

As Greyfox pulled Nimitz into the lower airlock of the command shuttle, the communications system picked up a signal. McBride put it onscreen, and an image of the Doctor appeared. No sound was transmitted, however, and Greyfox recognized the bridge of the St. Helens. The Doctor moved to one side and pointed at the command chair, apparently trying to yell something. The screen zoomed in on a display at the chair, and both McBride and Greyfox knew the Doctor was pointing at the self-destruct screen. Greyfox then had an idea.

“Ensign McBride, hold steady your course. I’m going to talk to Nimitz,” he said, striding into the rear of the shuttle, where Nimitz was just now clambering out of the airlock. He brushed himself off, without even looking up, and started to speak.

“Good job, trooper. You’re my new Executive offic—“ Nimitz stopped in mid-speech as he looked up and saw Greyfox, a look of utter disbelief on his face. Greyfox just pushed Nimitz backwards, onto the medical table, and activated the full neural inhibitor field—completely paralyzing Nimitz, but keeping him conscious.

“You’re going to tell me the command codes for the St. Helens now, admiral,” Greyfox said, placing his hand on Nimitz’s forehead. Nimitz tried to talk, but could not move. He was trapped in his own body. Suddenly, all of his thoughts flashed before him in his mind, his entire life being played back like a movie. Nimitz felt empty, alone, and cold. Greyfox, in a matter of mere moments, simply took the information he needed, then turned and walked back to the pilot’s seat. “Mr. McBride, bring us down on the back of VAXMigrator, and activate the mag-locks.”

Greyfox punched in the command codes on the shuttle’s console, sending a pre-designated subspace frequency to the bridge of the St. Helens. The count-down became audible, and Greyfox punched in Nimitz’s access codes…

Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… … … Command code accepted. Self-Destruct deactivated… Command functions re-routed for remote operations the computer intoned.

McBride glanced over at Greyfox, whose fingers were flying over the command console at an impossible rate, and he just shook his head in disbelief. “Admiral,” he asked, “what are you doing?” Greyfox smiled, then simply pointed out the canopy. McBride looked and saw the linked ships adjust course, diving below the bottom pylons of the resupply base, clearing it by a matter of meters. McBride looked again at Greyfox, who opened a communications link with the fighters which could now be seen out the port-side canopy.

“All fighters, return to VAXMigrator to dock. We are leaving the system. Repeat, return to dock, we are leaving.” Greyfox then switched off the comm, and continued to manipulate the mighty vessels before him. McBride was doing his best to find a suitable place to lock down, when Greyfox moaned in mild desperation.

“Sir?” McBride asked. Greyfox was sweating.

“The ships are caught in the gravity well. I can’t burn them clear of the planet,” he responded, tugging desperately at the remote controls. McBride looked thoughtful for a moment, finally speaking.

“Why can’t we use the gravity well to our advantage? If we can’t escape it, why not use it to slingshot out of the system?” McBride suggested. Greyfox just looked at him…

‘Why hadn’t I seen that?’ Greyfox thought. ‘There is definitely something unique about this boy.’ To McBride, he said, “Yes, that would work. Good job.” Greyfox made his course adjustments remotely, then set the St. Helens’ engines to full burn.

Quicksilver watched as the linked ships pulled out of their dive, looking as if they were trying to pull away from the planet itself. Then she received Greyfox’s communication. Kicking in her afterburners, she relayed her own orders to the flight group. She glanced to her left and saw Jayce flying on her wing, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Orion Group, head for VAXMigrator… We’re making a mobile-landing. Vagabond, your time is up! We’re leaving NOW!” she yelled.

“Just gimme one more minute, boss! I’m almost there. I’ll catch up,” Vagabond responded, as he flew into the wreckage of the Ajax…

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Mmmmm, thought Vagabond, that radiation could be anything, but better check it out. He descended into the superstructure of the Ajax to find... a tiny tug floating dead in the cored hull. "This is Vagabond to Quicksilver... I'm going in. There's a surviver... in a tug. And she's towing a warhead of some kind."

"Get her out," said Quicksilver, "then rendesvous with us."

Vagabond was getting massive radiation readings from the warhead... it was like nothing he'd ever seen. Major Sonya Blade lay helplessly in the cockpit, slumped backwards in the chair. Vagabond pulled in close, hovering over the tug which was half his size. He landed his fighter on the inner hull, attaching his ship with its magnetic landing gear. Vagabond reached for an emergency e-belt, then descended to the inner hull, bouncing weightless to the tug.

"Who... who?" mumbled Sonya, as if in a dreamstate.

"Vagabond, ma'am. Here, put on this e-belt. It'll provide you with air until we return to my fighter."

Sonya moved her weak fingers to the console, and they slumped across it, inadvertantly knocking the mobile emitter to the floor.

"What's this?" asked Vagabond, "some kind of data-storage device?"

"Lal..." trailed off Sonya. She doubled over and vomited onto herself, then groaned and passed out.

"Lal, huh?" shrugged Vagabond. He glanced at the console... there was a program named Lal running in the computer right now. He reattached the mobile emitter to the access point and began working to store the file back on the ME unit. Damn, he said, there's too much interference... the file won't transfer! Too many pieces missing! He cursed. This really wasn't his specialty. He took out his pistol and began firing at the console. Here, here, here! The console came free, all in one piece, and Vagabond hunted for the main memory console. Here it is! He grinned triumphantly, and taking the part in one hand with Sonya over his shoulder, he climbed back into his fighter.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

"Quicksilver, this is Vagabond--I've got the survivor... I'm on my way now," Vagabond transmitted, kicking his afterburners to maximum. As his fighter streaked across space, he could see the rest of the fighters and smaller ships heading for the speeding hulk of the St. Helens/VAXMigrator.

"You better hurry--I've just been informed that we're sling-shotting out of the system in 2 minutes. We'll be landing hot, Vagabond."

"Understood. We'll get there," Vagabond responded, shutting down his weapons and shields to syphon more energy into his engines. Maniac and Panther were keeping pace, as well.

In the command shuttle...

Greyfox wrestled with the remote control-link, easing the nose of the St. Helens lower and lower, until the bottom horizon of Kimerron could be seen bisecting the data display. The shuttle shook slightly, as McBride eased onto the back of VAXMigrator.

"Mag-locks engaged, sir," McBride reported. Greyfox nodded, continuing his manipulation of the remote-link.

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

The Doctor stared out of the St. Helens.

"We actually did it."

He was still trapped on the bridge of the St. Helens, but it wasn't so threatening anymore now that they weren't on a collision course with a star. In history, he'd read about a Captain James Kirk who'd tried a very similar trick by slingshotting off the sun at maximum warp. It seemed that going faster than the universal speed-limit had some very interesting effects.

There was the engine floating in front of them, literally sheared off the ship by a closing portal. Amazingly, there had been no casualties from the incident... none save the engine itself, and it was now time to rescue it.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Ensign McBride rubbed his eyes, blinking, trying to regain his vision. As it slowly faded back to him, he saw Greyfox sitting next to him, staring out of the canopy. McBride followed his gaze, and saw a huge chunk of debris floating in space. It looked like a bank of engines.

“Sir?” McBride asked. Greyfox turned and looked at him. “Where are we?” Greyfox just smiled…

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Greyfox looked over the data-link consoles on the command shuttle, nodding his approval as he saw the marines take the bridge. He glanced out at the floating engine mass, then back at Nimitz in the inhibitor field.

"Mr. McBride," Greyfox said, standing from his chair, "Guard Nimitz and keep me appraised of the situation here. I'm going back to the bridge of VAXMigrator to oversee repairs." Greyfox fiddled with the control panel, and began to shimmer a pale blue, sparkling color as the transporter beamed him away.

"Report," Greyfox said, as he rematerialized on the bridge. Richards turned and saluted him, and ensign Ripley and Lieutenant Jones snapped to attention. Greyfox smiled. "A lot different from the Talona, isn't it?" he asked them, winking. Richards allowed a smile, then nodded.

"Yes, sir. It is," Richards responded. Then, he became all business. "Reports are flowing in from our marines on the St. Helens. The fighting has dwindled down to minor pockets of resistance from Nimitz's men. It seems they're going to fight to the last man. Also, we still have had no contact with our pilots on the flight deck. It seems Nimitz's crew have rallied to that point, and are attempting to fly away in any spaceworthy craft they can find. They are, of course, taking heavy casualties as a result of the crossfire between the marines and our pilots. It should only be a matter of time before we have complete control of both ships."

Greyfox took this all in, then nodded gravely. "Do we control their engineering section?"

"Yes, Sir. We have taken engineering intact."

"Good. I want 3 teams sent there to reroute power and control back to us--and organize the technical crews from the repair depot. Have them load up on repair barges to begin the re-attachment of our engines. We'll use what resources we need from St. Helens to get ourselves repaired. If, at that time, any of Nimitz's men are still alive--presumably as prisoners--we will allow them to return to their ship and leave, if they so choose." Richards just stared at Greyfox, who returned the stare with an even glance. "Yes, Mr. Richards--the St. Helens will become a prison barge. We will strip all of her faster-than-light capability to ensure these men no longer menace the Confederation." Greyfox then sat in his command chair, and began working on bringing the computer system back online...

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

The Doctor turned around. His program had been transferred directly to Sickbay. That's more like it, he thought to himself.

He was horrified to discover that the sickbay was filling up. The refugees from the Vesuvius were overflowing out into the hall - despite the massive size of the Battlestar's sickbay. Lincoln and DS were fumbling over the bodies, issuing commands to the computer, but desperately inexperienced. A few others with basic first aid training also hovered over the bodies.

"You, get me a medkit. Lincoln, contact the criobay. We need to put these people into crionic suspension." Damn! some of these people were already dead - he knew he couldn't operate on all of them fast enough. The Crionic freezing process could be dangerous to people in this condition, but it was the only way to make sure they'd stay alive until he could fix whatever it was that was wrong with them.

"Bridge," he barked into the comm, "I need every available hand to help us move our patients to the Criobay. And right away! You!" He pointed at a patient who was hobbling to his feet from the cot, "Can you walk?"

"Yes," he said, weakly.

"What's your name?"

"Duffy, sir."

"Well, Mr. Duffy, you're promoted to nurse. Get these patients ready. Strip them. I want them ready for the tubes."

Duffy began gingerly unbuttoning the top button on one patient's shirt.

"What's the matter, Duffy? Afraid of getting your hands dirty? At the rate you're going, this'll take all day."

"We... have to strip them?" he said.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Standard procedure before Criofreeze. Extended periods in the tube tend to disintegrate synthetic fibers. The last thing we need is for our patients to ingest their own clothing during criosleep."

The dying patient gasped, choking blood onto Duffy's hand. The Doctor responded immediately with an injection. "Use this," said the Doctor, taking a scalpel to rip off the clothes, "it's faster."

"The dead bodies, too?"

"Yes," said the Doctor, slowly, as if being patient with a child, "the dead bodies, too."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Quicksilver huddled behind the landing gear of her fighter, with Jayce and Vagabond behind nearby cargo containers. They had literally landed in the middle of a fire-fight, as Nimitz's crew made a break for the flight deck. Blaster bolts sparked off all the nearby obstacles, turning any open space on the flight deck into a zone of death. Quicksilver was pinned down, with Vagabond and Jayce firing beyond her and into the black-clad crewmen. Other pilots from various squadrons were scattered about the deck, putting up what little resistance they could with their pistols.

"Quicksilver!" Jayce shouted above the din of combat. "Try to make it back to these containers! We'll cover you!” He nodded at Vagabond, and the two rolled out simultaneously, firing as rapidly as they could into the enemy troops. Quicksilver made a diving roll to the barricade of cargo-boxes, as blaster-fire sprayed across the floor where she had just been. She rolled behind the boxes, and the three huddled behind their defensive barricade.

“Where’s the rest of the squadron?” Quicksilver panted, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Jayce just shrugged. Neither he nor Vagabond had seen Maniac since the ground fighting had started. Outside their cockpits, the pilots were relatively cut off from one another.

“Quicksilver, I’ve got an idea,” said Vagabond. Jayce and Quicksilver both looked at him. “On board every TCS vessel is an assault pack, for use in hostile actions against boarders or mutineers. If we could get to one of these packs, we could open communication to the marines coming from the other side and coordinate our efforts. Also, we can get better weapons.” Jayce just stared at Vagabond.

“Only marines and black ops are trained to know about the assault packs,” Jayce said. “Which one were you involved in?”

“I’ll tell if you do,” Vagabond answered with a crooked smile. Quicksilver interrupted the two.

“Fine. You two go get to an assault pack.” Quicksilver pulled out a flare gun as she spoke. “Vagabond, take my pistol—you’ll need it more than I will.” She handed her pistol over, and loaded the flare gun. “Good luck!” she shouted, then dove across a small open space to another pile of crates. Jayce and Vagabond just looked at each other for a moment, then sprang into action…

Jayce popped up, firing several blasts at the nearest black-clad soldier, scoring 3 hits and dropping him like a sack of potatoes. He then ran to the open bulkhead door which led to the chief mechanics’ repair bays. Vagabond was on his heels, firing both pistols as he ran, keeping the bad guys pinned. Jayce caught a glimpse of Maniac, huddled up behind a stack of barrels, cradling his head between his arms and cringing as shots whizzed around him. Jayce chuckled, then dove around the door-frame. He fired back into the flight deck, covering Vagabond as he made it to the opposite side of the door. Vagabond glanced around, and saw the red-and-white painted panel which read ‘In Case of Fire, Remove Panel’

“Bingo!” Vagabond shouted, running to the panel and working it open. An olive drab, nylon pack flopped out, and Vagabond began frantically digging through the contents. Jayce glanced away to concentrate on the three enemy crewmen who had begun to run across the flight deck toward him. From the right side, he saw a bright red flare streak across the flight bay and strike the lead baddie in the chest, throwing him backwards several feet and to the deck, his chest now emitting the red-phosphorous glow of the burning flare as the rest of the body was consumed by flame. It was enough of a distraction for Jayce to take out the other two relatively easily. He glanced back at Vagabond, who had set up a mobile emitter-array, and was wearing a headpiece with an earphone and built-in microphone. He was carrying two, fully-automatic snub-uzis, and chattering communication over the head-set.

“The marines are on the way,” Vagabond said to Jayce as he approached. Jayce just looked at him blankly. Vagabond responded by smiling, then stepping out onto the flight deck and dashing for their previous position, firing controlled bursts from the blaster-uzis as he ran. At the same moment, marines burst onto the flight deck from the main hangar-bay door, deploying in squads and taking the distracted crewmembers almost totally by surprise.

Vagabond ran back to his fighter, and grabbed Sonya from the compartment behind the pilot's seat. She was still unconscious, her body covered in sweat as she lolled her head from side to side, obviously in some kind of delerium.

"I'm gonna get you outta here," Vagabond said reassuringly as he picked her up and over his shoulders. As he clambered out of the cockpit, he stuffed the mobile emitter and memory core from the tug into his pocket, then headed for the exit. He needed desperately to get Sonya to sick bay.

In a matter of minutes, the flight deck was flooded with the echoing shouts of the marines yelling “CLEAR!” Jayce did a double-take… Vagabond was carrying someone fireman-style across the deck, yelling for everyone in his path to make way. The marines also began carrying out the wounded, leaving the rest of the somewhat dazed pilots to sort through the aftermath…

By 21st Century (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

Meanwhile.. back on the Vaxmigrtor...

Sam Jarrah crawled into his crew quarters exausted. He was gratefull that his shift was over. The recent events on board the Vaxmigrator, the Vesuvius, and events back on Earth were putting the crew on edge. As a result the number of civilians and crewmen who needed his counciling services had grown exponentially.

He tried desparately to push away the headache pain that was building in his temples. He sat still on the edge of his bed and tried to filter out the voices of the crew which constantly entered his telpathic mind... Then suddenly!

Sam... You must destroy Greyfox! said a voice that floated into his mind. Sam knew it wasn't his own.

"NO! I WILL NEVER SERVE YOU!"

Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!... many voices were now chanting in unison in his head.

"Stop it !" Jarrah screamed clasping his ears.

Kill Him! KILL HIM! You will obey us!

"No! NOOOOO!" Sam screamed as the chanting grew louder and louder in his mind.

You must! Free our leader Nimitz! Kill Greyfox! Kill Him! Kill Him!..

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Sam screamed even louder as waves of pain flew over him.

A security detail who heard the noise broke into his room.

"Uh, this is security team one. It appears Doctor Jarrah is having some sort of mental breakdown."


"I WILL NOT DO IT! YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO KILL ME YOU BASTERDS!" Jarrah screamed as more pain passed through his body. Jarrah was unconscious.

"Uhh. base. The lieutenant is unconscious. We will take him to sick bay."

By Funk Soul Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Sol watches out the porthole at the VAXMigrator's engine as it floats in space. The fight for the St. Helens is all but concluded - he watches out the window with a sigh.

"Ambassador," says the young woman next to him, "Please, can you tell me what has happened to Jarrah?"

Sol turns his head to look at her, a calm expression on his face. He offers her a smile. Ensign Bean is almost as tall as he is with short, dark hair and piercing eyes. Otherwise beautiful, she is marred by a large "R" which has been burned over the entire left side of her face. Her right arm is mechanical, crude, robotic, with only three fingers. A line of tiny metal probes trace along her neck and up the side of her head. She is dressed in a black-and-silver uniform - a heavy weapon of some description hangs from her waist, a bandaleer strap hangs over her chest.

"He's safe," says Sol, "He was rescued before the collapse of the Vesuvius. You seem troubled, young lady."

She turns and gazes out the window. "Ambassador Solenoid, I am his bodyguard. I was separated from him. If he'd died in there, it would have been my fault. I faltered in my duties."

Sol notices how defiant she is, so proud. Knowing that words of comfort would do nothing, instead he says, "Jarrah is currently under medical observation, but you will find him in his crew quarters. Resume your post, Ensign!"

She nods and salutes to the older man and says, "Yes, sir!" As she turns to depart, Sol adds, "I know you will not fail us."

The door seals shut as she leaves the observation deck and Sol can see members of the St. Helens crew resisting, herded into captivity by the Marines. Not much for an Ambassador of Peace to do, muses Sol. He focuses his own robotic eye on the scene, remembering back to the days of conflict on Earth so long ago, those conflicts that brought him into space in the first place. Not that it was precicely he who was brought into space - it was his original. Even so, it may as well have been him, for the scene played through his mind all the same as if it were yesterday... the killing, the destruction, the collapse of the world and the death of his family. Hmmm, that was hundreds of years ago. Funny how the people, even through centuries, seem to remain the same.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Main power rerouted through emergency reserves intoned the computer as Greyfox pressed button sequences on the arm of his chair. The lights on the bridge slowly flickered brighter, and Greyfox could see the destruction which had been wrought.

"Commander Richards, I want full engineering shifts working double-time on stabilizing our current power source. Mr. Jones, start working on ship-wide communications. I need to know what's happening on the rest of the ship," Greyfox ordered, continuing his own work at the command chair. "And somebody get these people to sick bay!" he shouted, indicating the several still forms of the former bridge crew. It would take a long time to rebuild the level of damage they'd sustained--but with the technicians from the resupply base on board, there was a far greater chance of success.

Greyfox looked around at the old, metallic walls, consoles, and bulkheads with a look of concern. "Just hold on a little longer... I'll make sure we get through this," he muttered, then returned to his work...

Several minutes went by before Lt. Jones announced he had finished rerouting the communications systems. Almost immediately afterward, the engineering teams sent to the St. Helens reported in.

"Sir, we've reached main engineering. We've taken the remains of the original umbilical-link and spliced a longer link on it. We're currently attaching the inputs to the primary power couplings here. Full power should be restored within a matter of minutes."

"Thank you," Greyfox responded. "Continue working on stabilizing our power flow. I want regular reports."

"Aye Sir." Greyfox switched off the comm.

"Commander Powers," Greyfox said, tapping his comm-badge. "I want a security detail to construct a restrictor-field in the main cargo bay, and transfer any prisoners we have into it. Post around-the-clock guards. I also want full reconaissance patrols on board St. Helens. We need to salvage everything we can. I also want a full triage set up--there will probably be alot of wounded to deal with."

"Aye Sir. I'll get right on that," Powers responded. Greyfox switched off his comm-badge.

"Commander Richards, you have the bridge. I'm going to the primary power couplings--there's something restricting our power input," Greyfox said, as he got up and walked off the bridge...

By X (Eric) on Unrecorded Date:

Just as Greyfox’s form disappeared in a shimmer of blue light, every control panel in the cabin exploded in a shower of fiery sparks. The life support, sensors, and comm boards were on fire. Nimitz must have had the transporter rigged to overload the control systems in the event of an unauthorized use.

McBride grabbed the emergency extinguisher and began spraying the chemical mist on the fires. Suddenly he felt the maglocks that held the shuttle to the St. Helens give way, at the same instant, both the gravity and lights went out.

Floating in the flickering darkness of the cabin, McBride continued to spray down the remaining fires. Through the main view port he could see the St. Helens/VaxMigrator drawing away from his shuttle. He concentrated on extinguishing the last fire. When it was out, it only took a second for the backups to come on line, light first, then gravity. McBride hit the floor hard, he had expected that, but it still hurt.

He moved to the command chair and sat down, placing the extinguisher on the console in front of him just in case something else decided to explode. He routed battery power to the vital systems – the ones that still worked anyway. Every primary control system was burnt out as well as some of the secondary ones. He sent power to thruster control and life support. As he worked it suddenly came to him that if all of the primary systems were burnt out the inhibitor field around Nimitz would be too.

Even as the thought occurred to him, he heard the rear compartment door slide open. Without even taking the time to look, McBride grabbed and threw the extinguisher at the door as he threw himself out of the chair. A blaster bolt burned through the chair and into the console. McBride realized that if he’d been even a split second slower he’d be dead.

Nimitz stood in the doorway. He saw only one young man, but no sign of Greyfox. He had aimed and fired but the young man was diving out of the way while at the same time throwing something at him. Nimitz dodged to the side, then noticed McBride drawing his own blaster. He turned his diving dodge into a tackle.

McBride was in the process of drawing his own blaster when the weight of a 5 star admiral hit him head on. McBride flew back, the small of his back struck the console, his head knocked against the transparasteel of the viewport. His blaster flew off out of sight. Nimitz was standing over him, blaster leveled. McBride did the only thing he could think of, he slammed a boot into Nimitz’ crotch, lifting the admiral a good 3 or 4 inches up off the deck.

Nimitz's blaster went off, burning a hole through the meat of McBride’s arm. Mac could smell his own flesh burning, but the arm still worked. He pushed off the console and grabbed Nimitz extended right arm, pulling the admiral off balance. He turned and locked the older man’s arm under his own so that he now stood in front of and slightly to the right of Nimitz. McBride brought Nimitz’s wrist down hard, slamming it against the back of the pilot’s seat, knocking the blaster free.

Nimitz felt the bones in the wrist pop. He flashed an angry and amazed looked at McBride that said clearly ‘who was this kid?’ The admiral twisted and landed three solid hits to McBride’s wounded left arm. He was gratified when the boy’s grip on him failed and he all but fell to the deck in agony. Willing his right arm to work, Nimitz picked up McBride bodily and threw him across the cabin.

Mac hit the doorframe at the rear of the cabin and slid to the floor. He was thankful that his left arm was completely numb, he felt no pain. He must have a head wound, however, since there was blood flowing down the right side of his face. He could see Nimitz peripherally as the admiral pulled a combat knife from his belt and started toward him. McBride pulled himself to his feet and braced himself for the attack.

Nimitz advanced purposefully, holding the knife in his left hand, low, going for a gut shot probably. McBride watched Nimitz come, his right eye was blinded by the flow of blood, however, and he knew he had to get this right. He had to look as weak as possible until the last possible moment--not that difficult, at this point. At the last instant, Mac pushed off the wall, lunging sidelong towards Nimitz. Nimitz, caught slightly off guard, only managed to cut Mac across the ribs, rather than score a fatal hit.

McBride felt the knife score across his ribs, evidently, he’d not been quick enough, but he was still alive, and that’s what mattered. McBride brought his right arm down tight against his body locking Nimitz’s knife-arm in place, then head butted the admiral square in the face with all the strength he had left. He let go of Nimitz’ arm and dove through the door to the rear of the cabin.

Nimitz stumbled, temporarily blinded. He knew from experience that his nose was broken. He had killed some two dozen men in straight up fights, four times that number by stealth, twenty times that number in combat, and this boy was as good or better than any of them had been. At least so far. Nimitz moved to the door, the boy was about six feet away and facing him. He had pulled a fighting knife from his left boot, but held it in his right hand. Good, both of them were fighting with their off hand.

Mcbride decided to go on the offensive, wanting to end this fight as soon as possible. McBride attacked fast and low, Nimitz parried and riposted high and to the left, knowing the ensign would not be able to get his knife up there for a parry. McBride dodged, twisting to the right and down. Nimitz brought up his injured right hand and connected with the ensign’s face as hard as he could. Pain shot up his arm and he felt a profound tear – he was sure there was now permanent damage to the limb. He reversed his knife stroke and brought the blade down toward the boy’s throat.

McBride dodged again avoiding the knife but the fist connected with his jaw. Mac heard it crack and he stumbled. He let himself drop in an attempt to avoid the now descending knife. The tip of the blade raked across his face drawing a deep gash from just below his left eye to the jaw line. McBride rolled away and tried to regain his feet.

Nimitz advanced, landing a kick in Mac’s ribs hard enough to lift him off the deck and send him several feet across the cabin. McBride landed with his back up against the bulkhead, and the admiral advanced again. He raised his foot for another kick but McBride’s leg struck with a lightning kick to the knee. Nimitz felt the joint give way under the impact and he fell, rolling as he did so.

McBride climbed to his feet using the bulkhead for support. If he didn’t do something soon the old man was going to kill him. He knew he was too hurt to prolong the fight much longer. Mac leaned against the wall, assessing and resting as he watched Nimitz get to his feet. Damn! The old man could still walk.

McBride’s mind was racing…There’s only one thing to do. Wait…let Nimitz come to you…give him the opening he expects, then take him out. If everything goes right, it’ll all be over.

Nimitz stood uneasily with most of his weight on his sound left leg. The ensign stood with his back against the wall--he still had a knife in his hand, but his left side was open. The boy then moved off the wall and squared off with Nimitz as the admiral moved to close with him.

Nimitz started with a feint, a high slash that would have been fatal if completed. McBride lifted his knife to block. In a flash reverse, Nimitz drove his knife down and buried it to the hilt in McBride’s thigh. It bit bone and was stuck. Nimitz tried to retrieve it, but McBride knocked the hand free with his left arm. McBride had not tried to parry at all, instead completing his high attack.

Everything seemed to move slowly – Nimitz was dispassionately aware of the pressure of the ensign’s blade on his neck, and then felt the skin pop as it broke. He could feel every inch of the blade as it slid through cartilage and muscle. It was an odd sensation when it punctured his windpipe. He even felt the tip of the blade exit the other side of his neck…”That’s it, boy give it a good twist to free the blade, make good and sure the wound won’t close up, then pull the knife free. I hate this kid,” he thought.

Nimitz could feel his life ebbing away and he was furious. There was only one thing he could think of to avenge himself on this boy who’d beaten him. Blood pouring from the hideous wound, Nimitz lunged for the control panel.

McBride stepped back, bloody knife in hand, and watched Nimitz stumble back. Nimitz seemed to ignore the wound that McBride knew ought to be fatal. He watched the admiral lurch toward the control panel. He was reaching for the airlock controls. Without any conscious thought, McBride ran for the door into the main cabin. He was in midstride, half way through the doorway when the suction of full decompression pulled him back. Luck more than anything else allowed him to grab and hold the doorframe. He filled his lungs with air and held on.

It took less than a minute for the air to completely evacuate the small shuttle, but it felt far longer as McBride held on against the buffeting of 100+ mph winds.

“There goes my blaster,” he thought as the weapon flew past his face. He just hoped nothing really big would try to fly past him in that doorway.

When it was over, everything that had not been bolted down was floating free in space, including, apparently, Admiral Nimitz. McBride pulled himself to the control panel and sealed the outside hatch. Life support would automatically begin filling the cabin with breathable atmosphere, but it would take about three minutes. McBride made his way to the copilot’s seat. He was all ready feeling lightheaded from loss of blood and lack of oxygen. First he stabilized the shuttle and rotated it so that the nose pointed toward the St. Helens landing bay. Since sensors were still burnt out he had to eyeball it. That proved to be problematical since his vision was beginning to blur.

He then dumped the missile compliment and lit up the main engine. He started counting to ten before shutting down the engines and dumping the fuel core. He did not notice when the life support indicators told him it was all right to breathe again, he was too focused on his count down. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was pressing the little red button that ejected the fuel core. He did not know if he reached ten or not, but the engines were dead, and he was coasting toward the St. Helens landing bay, powerless. McBride slumped in his chair and fell into unconciousness.

By Funk Sol Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Sol placed a finger on his brow... "What was that?" he said, almost to himself, "I sensed something - it was... a highly advanced soul... on the shuttle... it was there, now it has just winked out... what the...?"

Sol gazes out the viewport, but can see nothing from this vantage point. The shuttle... Nimitz!

Sol moved to the nearest comm... "Admiral, I think you should direct the scanners to the shuttle... something's going on over there. Over."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Jayce was helping his squadron line up the wounded, as marine medics began performing initial treatment. He was just sliding a large metallic crate across the floor with Quicksilver, when he heard the loud screaming of metal grinding harshly against metal. He looked up to see a shuttlecraft impact on the decking, sparks erupting from her underside, and then bounce and begin to tumble as her tail section rammed against the ceiling. A wing broke off, slicing halfway into one of the Dragons before coming to a halt. Three marines were swept up by the mass of twisted metal as the 5-ton shuttlecraft bounced one final time, coming to rest in front of the large double doors leading off the flight deck to the rest of the ship. It had all happened so fast, Jayce didn't even have time to react. If the shuttle had been pointed at him, he would have been killed.

"Somebody get over and check if there are survivors!" yelled Quicksilver, as the closest marines scrambled over the wreckage. After several seconds, a limp, bloody form was extricated from the ruined craft. The marines immediately injected several hypos into the left arm of the victim, and rushed away to the medical facilities.

"I wonder who that was," muttered Jayce, still in shock from his near-death experience with the crashing shuttle. Quicksilver just shrugged. Jayce looked down at the spot where the marines had treated the victim, and saw a set of dog-tags. Glancing around hurriedly, he scooped them up and ran off to find the unknown pilot...

By Funk Sol Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

"Thanks for squeezing me in, Doc," says Jarrah as the light is shined straight in his eye.

"Don't mention it," said the Doctor curtly, "everything's finally under control here."

"I've been having these terrible headaches," says Jarrah, "terrible."

"You have't been hearing voices, have you?"

"Now that you mention it," said Jarrah, hesitantly, "I have."

"That's what I was afraid of," says the Doctor, "You see, Mr. Jarrah, a neural destabilizor chip has been implanted in your cerebral cortex."

"What? How?"

"It isn't all that difficult," says the Doctor. "What seems like a routine blood test or vaccination can actually be an opportunity to implant the chip into your bloodstream. The chip is designed to navigate your body until it reaches its target - your brain. It has actually been taking iron from your blood to expand itself, and I'm afraid it is now deeply established."

"Can't you remove it?"

"I already have removed the original chip," says the Doctor, "but the rest is too deeply rooted to tamper with. If I attempt to do so, the nodes will discharge and kill you."

Jarrah looks queezy.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Greyfox was wedged in between several power conduits, a mini-flashlight clenched between his teeth, as he searched for anything that might be out of place. He was in the power transfer core, which was just forward of main engineering before the loss of the aft sections of the ship. Now, however, he was merely one emergency bulkhead away from the cold, black void of space. He climbed up, between several of the 3-inch thick conduits, searching. There had to be something down here which was causing a reduced power flow.

Suddenly, a mental shockwave slammed into Greyfox's psyche--almost strong enough to be a FourSpace disturbance... He saw an image of Nimitz floating in space, apparently dead, and an image of McBride slumped on the console of the command shuttle, motionless. Greyfox's comm-badge twittered with a garbled, static-filled transmission. The power transfer conduits must have caused the interference. It was then that the conduit immediately on Greyfox's left side arced with blue sparks, sending electrical discharge coursing through his body.

This was the fifth such shock in the last hour. He must be getting closer to the source of the blockage. Greyfox shook his head, then continued shimmying up between the conduits.

After another 20 feet or so, he spotted something on one of the 30 power conduits in this section--it looked almost like a ball of some sort, with the conduit passing through its center. The ball seemed to pulsate, emitting tiny sparks every so often. Greyfox panned his head around, shining the small flashlight with his mouth, and saw fully 12 such balls on various power conduits throughout this section. He reached up with one gloved hand and touched one. It had a rubbery, fleshy consistency, and was coated with some sort of mucus-like substance. Tiny electrical sparks erupted across the surface of the sphere when Greyfox touched it, emanating from the point his finger made contact and rippling around the surface like waves in a small pond.

The ball jiggled slightly, then slid itself another inch up along the conduit, leaving a slug-like trail behind it. Greyfox had encountered a new life-form...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Jayce made his way through the corridors of the St. Helens, trying desperately to keep up with the marines carrying the wounded pilot. The group rounded a corner, and by the time Jayce caught up, the wounded individual had been transported away.

"Hey!" Jayce shouted at the marines, who turned to regard him. "I need to get to that pilot you just rescued," Jayce said urgently.

"Med-lab on the VAXMigrator," said one marine.

"Can you transport me there?" Jayce asked. The marines just looked at each other for a moment. Jayce didn't have a moment to waste. He grabbed the earpiece-radio from the nearest marine, who drew his weapon and pointed it at Jayce. Jayce barked into the comm-unit, "This is Lt. Colonel Jayce Brilliam. I want an emergency beam-out directly to medical!" Jayce pulled the comm-unit off his head, and tossed it back at the stunned marine, then felt the tingling flow of energy as he was beamed to sick-bay.

"Please state the nature--you're not even wounded. I'm far too busy to listen to prank calls," the Doctor said, once Jayce fully materialized. Jayce looked around and saw the veritable crowd of wounded, some treated, but most waiting in line.

"Doctor, wait. You just received a new patient--from the same marine squad I just came from. He seemed severely wounded," Jayce said. The Doctor sighed, then turned around condescendingly.

"Colonel, as you can see, I'm a very busy person right now. I'm sure somebody did come in, if you say so, but I can barely keep track of the wounded already here, much less any new ones coming in. Look for his name on the patient roster."

"It won't be there," Jayce snapped back at the surly Doctor, holding up McBride's dog-tags. The Doctor's expression changed slightly.

"Oh my. I'm sorry for that little outburst. Try that section. It's where all the unknowns are," the Doctor said apologetically. Jayce thanked him and rushed over.

There were 13 men here. Of these, only 5 were uncovered by sheets. Of these 5, only one wasn't wearing a marine uniform. Jayce immediately rushed to his side, and inspected the wounds. He was no doctor, but he could tell that without immediate treatment, this kid would die. He looked around for an attendant--and found one clumsy looking, injured man meekly attending the wounded.

"Doctor! This man needs immediate medical attention!" Jayce yelled. The wounded guy just looked at him. The Doctor strode in dutifully, took one look at McBride, and immediately began working on him.

"Mr. Duffy, help me move him on the table. I need a neural inhibitor and set up the life-support system," the Doctor ordered. Duffy struggled to help. Jayce looked on, then decided to do something about this travesty. He ran over to a console, and keyed up the ship-wide comm system.

"Attention all crew. We have a medical emergency. All crew with medical training report to medical immediately. All crew with medical training report to medical immediately," Jayce said, then switched off the comm. Hopefully, now, these people would be saved...

By Funk Sol Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

At last, Ambassador Solenoid had the chance to sit in his quarters and read through communiques from the last 5 years... had he been isolated on LEV-World for so long? As a side-effect of it's re-entry into Federation Space, the VAXMigrator had been able to retrieve all the communiques, all the current events, all the goings-on from Earth for the time VAXMigrator was lost in space. So many changes on Earth, so many. Curiously, Sol was drawn to a communique of a most personal nature...

34256-3465

Doctor Emeritus Solenoid T is hereby discharged dishonorably from the NAZER Educational Institution of Learning...STOP...It is hereby officially recognized that during his time at this institution that he has not upheld his duties in keeping with his station and is hereby found guilty of treason against the Federation and of corrupting the youth toward ideals not in keeping with the wellbeing of the State... STOP...effective immediately, Doctor of Philosophy Solenoid T is hereby discharged from the Institution at Nazer Colony and shall be ineligible for reinstatement under any circumstances... STOP...

Sol let the PADD fall to his side and let out a deep breath. This document was forged, he was sure of it. The date of the decision fell shortly after his sebatical, shortly after his journey into cyberspace - it was made to appear as if his sebatical WAS the discharge.

Sol slid the PADD across his desk where it tapped against his fish tank. The fish stared back through the spherical chamber and Sol fed them. Discharged. Enemy of the State. How interesting. After all this time.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Greyfox clambered out of the power-access tunnel, taking a quick bearing of his location. Deck 37, section N. The spheroid life-forms had chosen to 'nest' just outside Criogenics. He strode inside the now empty lab area, and collected some medical instruments...

After several minutes of tedious manipulation within the cramped accessway of the power conduits, Greyfox had removed the dozen or so spheroids from their respective conduits. Almost immediately, Greyfox noticed the ambient light level increase. It was then that the spheroids began shifting, beginning to glow a pale blue. The glow grew stronger, and the spheres moved closer to one another, and slowly began moving together, melding into one amorphous blob. It grew and shifted, finally coming to resemble a humanoid form. As the glow subsided, Greyfox saw a scraggly-looking man wearing thick spectacles and fly-away, thinning grey hair grown long in the back. The man was wearing a white lab-coat, with a myriad of small tools in the chest pocket.

"Greetings. I am Philo," the man said, bowing his head reverently and extending his palms outward at his sides--apparently a greeting. "I have been... observing your ship for quite some time now. If you are in need of my assistance, I would gladly offer it to you."

Greyfox pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Follow me, Philo. I need to ask you some questions."

"Very well." The two walked down the corridor toward the forward sections, where most of the ship's activity was taking place. Greyfox needed to see what was going on, anyway...

By Funk Sol Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Lal worked hurriedly in Sick Bay. Having borrowed some medical subroutines from the Doctor, she was now moving at top speed to revive what patients she could. She would vanish from one are of the sickbay, then re-appear in another, then vanish, then appear.

"Thank you, Lal," says the Doctor, "You have been most helpful. Please, escort Major Blade back to her quarters."

Sonya sat up weakly from her crio-tube... the radiation had been purged from her system during her brief sleep. The goo poured off her body - as she coughed, the liquid gel expelled itself from her lungs, evaporating into the air.

"Here," says Lal, offering her a white robe, "We can go."

Sonya reaches one leg over the side of the tube, then the other. Within seconds, all of the biosupport gel has evaporated from her and from the deck. She dons the robe, tying it tightly shut and leans on Lal for support as they head for the door. Lal snaps on her emitter.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

McBride was placed in a nano-repair tank, with a breathing apparatus on his face. The lid was sealed, and then a translucent, greenish liquid was pumped into the clear tank. Almost immediately, Jayce could see the green glow surround McBride's leg wound, as well as the various other wounds.

"Colonel, he's going to be fine now. You can return to your duties," the Doctor said to Jayce, before continuing his own work. Jayce left to return to his squadron.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

***END OF STORY ARCHIVE***