Having been working on getting the probes ready for the operation Thex now had some free time available. Dressing in the fleet standard issue gym clothes she made her way to the gym. It was rather empty apart from a few people using the treadmills so the andorian walked over to the gym bags and began to use one. She needed to keep her skills sharp especially with the upcoming mission.

Beyond the rows of training apparatus was a circular platform with half of it colored red and the other white. The nearest wall had racks containing a vast array of ancient weaponry replicas, from various swords to polearms of every configuration, from ancient Terran asian blades to modern ambojitsu staves; even a pair of klingon bath'leths and Vulcan lirpas could be seen among the impressive arsenal.

At the moment, there was someone on the vast platform. Wearing a red silky garnment that was vaguely reminescent of a Terran keikogi, it was however short sleeved and the leggings were skintight, with a large golden sash tied on the left side of the tall, lithe, athletic body filling up the suit. the green tinge of the sleek dry skin and the pointed ears, the oiled blue-black hair and the slanted grey eyes and the silvery metal band on one finger left no doubt as to who this was.

Sonak was kneeling, head bowed eyes closed over his joined thumbs and forefingers. His arms seemed to be tied with a long double band of what appeared to be white leather, with all four extremities ending in a metallic ball the size of a fist. But when he stood up, in a slow, deliberate, almost ceremonial manner, he started to do small circles with his hands that suddenly appeared to give the long leatery bands a life of their own. As his movements became wider, so did the twirling of the leather strips, until they were whistling around him in wide and complex arcs envelopping and darting in and out of his body.

The whole exercise looked like a dance. it was rythmic, fluid, graceful; yet, there was speed, power and precision in those moves, making the weighted leather bands look as living snakes swaying, striking and moving in obviously threatening movements. The martial allure of the solitary routine became all the more evident when he stopped, letting the whole thing wrap around his arms and hands and then spoke in a deep yet toneless voice.

"Computer: Kali-fee 9."

On the opposite side of the platform appeared the obviously holographic form of another Vulcan. This one was a colossus, a good head taller than the already tall Sonak and muscled like a weigthlifter under a silvery and black silky garnment like his own, also with a golden sash. he was holding a massive lirpa. The crescend head of of the blade and the heavy conical counterweight at the other hand made the polearm look as heavy as a bulkhead buttress. The holographic warrior wore an angular metallic masked helmet that covered his whole head except his eyes and his ears.

There was no ritual, not even a signal. The giant started swinging his heavy weapon to lop Sonak at the knees and on the return strike clobber his head to a pulp. It was so fast the lirpa became a blur. It was so powerful the air roared with the swinging of the heavy weapon.

But Sonak had already moved. he horizontally jumped over the dismembering blade and under the following head crushing blow and towards the colossus, his anh woon deploying each sides of him. He rolled right between his parted legs as the weighted ends of his own weapon wrapped around both ankles of his opponent. he rolled back swiftly, just before the heavy end of the lirpa crashed behind the giant's back where his head would have been.

Rolling back to his feet, he yanked on his anh woon. the leather became so taut and creaked so loudly it looked as it would snap under the weight and strenght of the giant. The blade of the lirpa was already swinging back to cut it to ribbons; but before it went halfway,Sonak stepped forward and slack his grip, uncoiling the leather from the ankles. Holding the leather taut between both hands to catch the pole itself behind the blade, he deflected the swing by stepping again and pivoting to turn his back to the other, stretching the leather in front and around his neck. As he finished back to back with the colossus, he brutally yanked with both hands the anh woon over his own lower shoulder.

Their was an ominous crack and the giant flipped backwards over Sonak's shoulder to land face first on the floor in front of him with a sickening thud. He was barely on the ground that Sonak jumped and turned to land on his back, one knee striking powerfully on the spine as he yanked again on the strangling leather. There was another crack when he landed and a third one as he yanked before the giant went limp, his masked head at an odd angle. Then the imposing opponent dissolved.

Sonak was barely panting from the effort a few seconds before getting back full control, of his breathing. Of course he was not sweating, since his Vulcan metabolism adapted to a desert planet rarely did.But the strain on his muscles was evident by the way he slowly coiled back his weapon around his hands and arms.

He was seemingly oblivious to the stares from his felow crewmembers on the treadmills.

Thex like the other crew in the gym had stopped and was looking at the Vulcan. She had always admired the way vulcans fight and their martial arts. It was in a fight with one that she had her antenna broken for the first time. It had hurt like hell, but the andorian had used that and powered through to beat her.

From the ring on one of his fingers, his identity was obvious as the former fiance of her best friend. " Impressive Sonak." She said calmly taking a break from her own workout.

He stood at attention and nodded to her in greetings.

"Andorian warrior prowess and culture has earned the respect of even the fiercest Klingons; your estimation is therefore well founded to be sure, Lieutenant Commander. That being said, if I was successful, it is not merely because of any proficiency on my part but only because I found out the limitation of the combat program."

He stepped down from the combat platform to come to her.

"If you would permit me to speak candidly for a moment, Lieutenant Commander; I have been made aware of the friendship you have built with Lieutenant Commander Paris; you may be aware how much this has proven critical to her mental and emotional recovery and stability after what she went through. She is my Thy'la..., more than a sister, more than a wife, more than a lover; a... soul mate if you would permit me the term. You as an Andorian, of all people, will understand the significance of such a bond, as you are known to even die when you loose one of your mates. You have been and you are a still a life anchor for her. For that, I am therefore in your debt."

" Don't mention it. She's a lovely woman who I'm honoured to be able to call my friend. She's saved my life already and i am forever grateful. Just look after her, keep her safe and happy and any debts we have will have been paid in full. " Thex replied honestly.

"I have for a long time now decided to dedicate my life to this endeavor," he assured her. "I hope you will still be there for her as well. As a Vulcan, I do not crave exclusive emotional attention from even my mate. As a Human, she can never have too much. I hope we can count on you to remain a close friend for a long time to come."

He made a pause before adding:

"I come from a time where relations between your people and mine had barely settled after centuries of misunderstanding, suspicion and even conflict. In your enlightened day and age, this seems to be a thing of the past. Rest assured I do not carry with me this historical baggage. I have a deep respect and curiosity about your people, especially on how you manage to prosper with so much passion and violence as part of your psychology and culture.Your music and your martial arts are most revealing in this aspect and a hobby of mine for quite some time."

He looked at her pointedly.

"I speak here in mere generalities of course. I look forward to really knowing you as the chosen friend of my mate; and in time me becoming one of yours as well."

" I never understood the conflict between our two races even when the nutters in the cult my family came from. True some of them blame the Vulcans for everything that' gone wrong from the borg to the dominion, but there a....." Thex began before realising she was only using the small number of andorians she had meet in the fleet and not the whole population. " Well, i hope they've gotten over it. I'll admit they're not that many of us in the fleet and you see less and less every year. We're not a good example of our whole species. " She corrected herself honestly.

"I would beg to differ, Lieutenant Commander.Maybe you mean that you are not typical of your kind... but to enroll, graduate and serve in Starfleet requires one to be among the best of one's people as it is demanding and highly skilled and risky work. Our current mission is proof enough of this. And it is by the example of her best children that a people rises, lives long and prospers."

His eyes glazed for a moment as if recalling something from memory.

"From what I have learned of your timeline, the distrust between our people may have very well been Vulcan's fault. There was a very notable historical event back in the 22nd second century that involved humans for the first time in this conflict that paved the way to it's resolution and ultimately led to the advent of the United Federation of Planets a few years later. In those days,Vulcan had lost it's way, forgetting and perverting the wisdom of Surak, father of what now makes us Vulcan. it was not unlike the humans' dark ages, when authorities perverted their own faith for political and personal gains. P'Jem hid a secret station to spy and plot against Andoria. The outrage and concern of your people, as illogical as emotions may be, was nevertheless justified. We had a Reformation since then in no small part thanks to Human involvement, and the true teachings of Surak were resurrected. Still, Vulcan has a lot to atone for in regards to your people."

He lifted his hand in the Vulcan salute.

"May we work and share life together aboard this ship as a small step towards this goodwill between our two people, if you are willing, Lieutenant Commander."

Thex was a little confused about the whole timeline talk, but she got that the vulcan was meaning. " Thank you i will be more than willing to further the goodwill between our species."

Sonak nodded in appreciation.

"Maybe when you will be off duty, I could learn more from you about Andoria and it's people. I am particularly interested in biology, music, philosophy and martial arts. Perhaps, when times permits, you could be kind enough to guide me in exploring these details of your society and culture?

" I'll be willing to help you with anything you want to know. I may not be the best suited, but I'll do my best." Thex replied honestly.

"Most kind. But I have been interrupting you long enough. My apologies, Lieutenant Commander. I will leave you to your exercise regimen. I am looking forward to discuss more about your people and culture in the near future. This will be most enlightening."

" No need to apologise Sonak I'll talk to you later." Thex said as she returned to her punching bag.

"May I ask permission to observe you while you train? I am aware that female Andorians are just as strong and as resilient as the males of the species; almost as strong as us Vulcans and as tough as Klingons, with superior reflexes, senses and balance. And I have not yet the opportunity to observe your Kharakom style, your striking martial art. With your permission, i would be honored for the opportunity to observe; unobstrusively of course. But if you find this undesirable or inappropriate, please state it plainly and without reservation. I am a vulcan; I have no ego to bruise."

" Well I don't know about the first half, but your welcome to observe. " Thex said as she got to work. Her family had made sure she knew Kharakom from the moment she could walk. Though her own style had added in new moves she picked up from her hobbies. She'd even added a few moves based on her danching hobby.

Sonak stood several paces back so as to not be obstrusively present while she attacked the target with a rich variation of strikes from all limbs. He knew Andorians were most pragmatic and he noted with interest that some moves seemed more inspired by aesthetics than pragmatism while a few others followed different body mechanics than the others; she obviously had added some prefered techniques picked up elsewhere than what her basic style provided.

She was faithful to her roots yet not bound by them, open to better herself and what she did but not discarding what she had learned on a mere whim; a true Starfleet officer. Vulcans students had a tendency to be tradition bound and less creative than what she exhibited.

And she was quite good. he could see her moves had been honed by actual experience, not just through technical practice or against unliving targets.

He nodded in appreciation.

The andorian grinned at the vulcans approval as she continued her workout. Finishing with a flying roundhouse that sent the bag flying backwards she brushed some of her hair our of her face before turning to look att he vulcan. " So how did i do?" She asked politly.

"Quite well," the Vulcan answered. "You are well coordinated and precise in your strikes. And you have also a surprisingly good ability to channel your emotional intensity into your techniques. This is quite fascinating to observe."

" Thanks. My parents may have been religious nutters but they at least made sure I could fight. From then i just kept adding to it. " She replied with a grin.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed? I was under the impression that Andorians had renounced superstitous beliefs centuries if not millenia ago; and those had been rather pragmatic even then, more akin to hero and ancestor worship than beliefs in supernatural entities."

" Well, sadly it's come back. My people's numbers and genetics problems have led to a lot of my people finding religion. The andorian government does very little to keep them in line due to them being such a large voting block." Thex explained.

"Every living thing is entitled to it's own beliefs. Your planetary government is wise and follows the charter of the United Federation of Planets, be it or not for political convenience. But I am a Vulcan; I can only accept as real what is evidenced. It is however a puzzling paradox for me to observe that in dire times, where rationality and pragmatism should be most needed, that certain individuals instead find refuge in feelings and emotionalism, even up to and including superstitions. May I assume by your comment that you do not follow in your parents' footsteps?"

" Well I had to run away from there compound and be pulled over a six-foot wall to get away from them so no i don't believe in there vodooo...... " She began before speaking again. " Sorry, that was rude off me. It's a sore subject for me."

"You should not have to excuse yourself for your convictions, anymore than they would theirs; especially not to me, Lieutenant Commander. Vulcans eschewed belief for reason, superstition for science and emotion for reason over six thousand years ago. Moreover, I am kolinarh; logic alone dictates my thoughts and actions. Belief-based thoughts are to me only an intellectual study and a component of interpersonal communication."

His grey eyes went to hers.

"In that last regard, words are there to express thoughts; and no mere word can harm me. If I may be allowed to remind you, I have no ego to bruise; and let me add, neither any belief to offend... or any offense to feel. Be free to discuss the subject with me in any manner you deem adquate if youn wish to do so. I myself find the subject of sentient beings voluntarily adopting irrational thoughts and behavior quite intriguing."

" Okay then. Well as I was saying I had to jump over a wall to escape my family's compound. I wanted to see the world not sit behind a wall and complain about how the federation was a crime against the Almighty." Thex responded.

"Curious; as far as I know, Andorians never developped monotheism. It is quite alien to their biological-driven mindset and societal structure. Have your parents adopted an old Terran faith or is your culture now influenced by one?"

" It's an andorian religion one that's seen a revival since are genetic problems started. I guess people looked back to the glory days with all the problems. Rather ironic given it's that religion that may have dammed my whole species." The andorian replied her voice becoming very bitter at the end.

Sonak nodded and waited a moment to let her emotion spend itself. Being married to a human woman, especially one as intense as Rita Paris, had taught him much about how to interact with emotional crewmates, more in fact than his decades of service in Starfleet. Then he took a beep breath as if to calm himself; meaningless to him but, he now knew, much significant for others.

"It is a well established fact that emotional distress is the most fertile ground to inspire faith and belief in the irrational. When one cannot find rhyme or reason, one may see only irrationality as an answer because it is comforting and easy... much more than thinking and working your way out of a problem. Your people is by nature passionate but also pragmatic. I am sure you will eventually find a real solution; and we are all here to help if your people so requires."

The vulcan looked again pointedly at her.

"And that is also valid on an individual basis as well, Lieutenant Commander. She who is my wife values your friendship most... dearly I think is the correct word. Be assured that Rita will be there for you if you wish it. And where my mate goes, I always follow... if it is required of me."

" Thank you Sonak I appreciate it. We all need to stick together especially with what's coming." Thex replied calming herself.

Sonak nodded.

"Indeed. That is what the United Federation of Planets is all about."

" Indeed it is. " thex replied with a grin on her face.

The mission briefing, like so many others, provided advance insight into not only the modicum of actionable intelligence provided, but the level at which the crew could operate without breaking mission, Starfleet and Federation protocols in the process. Even the secondary planning in the process seemed contingent on things going according to the plan laid out. Not that his facial expression would have mattered, but standing off in the background of these meetings was important for Jonas for two reasons. The first being the exceptions leaders had for their officers, which is something he aspired too. The second was commanders intent, when plans ultimately took a quick jab to the face, it was important to know, above all else, what needed to be accomplished beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When dismissed, Jonas pushed himself from against the wall and quietly exited the briefing room. Nodding to both exiting and passing officers, Kader tapped his comm-badge and spoke.

=A= "Tactical teams 1 & 2, Marine Briefing Rooms...10 minuets." =A=


Deck 15 - Saucer Section > Marine Facilities

Slightly darker and a little more ominous, the tactical briefing following the intelligence briefing involved alot less commotion by design. The members who would accompany the senior staff team leads to the surface didn't need a why, just a how and when. The holographic interface gave them a faces to identify as hostile as well as clear and concise actionable objectives for each. As the information complied, Jonas watched the team members take in the information, downloading section for additional study later. As the presentation concluded, the room lighten and the display disappeared. Chief Kader took a step forward and simply asked.

"Any questions?"

A single hand was raised as Kader nodded in her general direction.

"These mythical weapons...they been tested in the field?"

Chief Kader with his arms folded reposed while looking around for others with questions. "No, as far as I've research, Starfleet hasn't done battle with any gods using mythical enhanced weapons before." Nodding to another, he kept his arms folded as the bothered on his face soften.

"What are the weapons Chief?"

Kader took another step towards the display screen, accessing the intelligence briefing information, schematics of the weapons designed by Lieutenant Commander Thex sh'Zoarhi began to appear. Kader didn't respond further, he just looked around the room for additional questions. Once he felt satisfied he'd hit all the point, he closed the information once more and spoke.

"Melee weapons familiarization training in the holodeck at 0500...session is expected to last a few hours so come prepared. Team leaders meeting with the Security Chief at 0430. Dismissed." As quiet as the filled the room, the tactical operators of the USS Hera dispersed, saying their hushed conversations for the privacy of their quarters and personal training areas. With a report ready on the status of tactical, Chief Kader felt confident enough to speak on it to the XO.

Alex looked left and then right, then he saw it. The entrance to the Counselors office. He sorted himself out and then he entered. "Anybody home!" He asked loudly

Chief Counselor Avender Jurot looked up from the PaDD she was reading, and stood. She was a very tall Betazoid woman, with black irises in her eyes. Her skin was very pale, and her auburn hair reached the small of her back. She was very curvy and busty, a fact that her tailored duty uniform accented.

"Yes. In fact we all are actually!" She smiled.

Upon seeing her, he knew this was a real serious female. This was no fling of a woman. If you got involved with her, it was for the long haul. It's been a long time since he had even thought about dating or taking a mate. But for the first time in years, something stirred within him that he could not brush off. Momma once said, if you don't ask, you don't know.

"Hi Counselor. I was instructed to see you before I began my regular duty schedule. Is this a good time?" He asked, dressed in Security Yellow, fresh and as clean as the day he was born, his Goatee shaped in a Gladiator type style and very sharp, his complexion that of coffee with a lot of milk! Yes he was handsome. He thought to himself.

"Yes, it is Lieutenant. Please, call me Avender," she said, extending her hand as she walked toward him. "Please, come in."

The entire room seemed to radiate serenity: a feeling of comfort and perhaps even happiness.

Her hand was lovely. He held it a little longer than was probably normal, but he had not felt like this in a long time. "What do you call it when you see someone that totally puts you at ease?" He asked.

Avender smiled. "I call that a great start," she said. She then gestured toward a very comfortable looking couch. Next to the couch was a chair, and between the two was a small glass top table with an archaic box of tissues on it. "Please, make yourself comfortable." The Betazoid sat down in the chair, and crossed her long legs.

"A very good start indeed." Remarked Sexton as he took a seat on the couch. He sat with both feet on the deck plating and his fingers inter clasped as he look directly into her amazing eyes. Alex was not someone who was intimidated easily. "Is Avender your first name?" He asked patiently.

"Yes," she said. "My full name is Avender Jurot. My father named me after the first Betazoid Warp capable ship. One of my ancestors worked on that ship."

She smiled. "May I call you Alex?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He said boldly, this woman had hit a nerve. But as a professional, he would not allow himself at act of this urge unless she gave clear signs that she felt the same way. "So tell me, Avender what would you like to know about me?" Asked Alex.

She leaned forward, fixing her black irised eyes on his.

She said, quietly "Just so you know, I am a telepath. While I am VERY capable of reading your mind, and much more, I prefer not to do so for many reasons- one of which is because the Captain told me not to do so."

She smiled "As a Betazoid, I also read emotions." Avender leaned back in the chair, adjusted her tailored tunic, and re-crossed her long legs.

"As this is simple onboarding, and I have your file, it can be whatever you want to discuss. Your Starfleet file says you're a qualified pilot as well as being trained in Security and Intelligence," the busty Betazoid said. "It may interest you to know that my first assignment was to Temporal Investigations on Starbase 410. I was trained in Intelligence/Counter Intelligence for that as well."

"Yes, I have to say it does interest me, in fact if you don't mind me saying so Counselor, I'm very interested in you. But I'm trying very hard to maintain a professional aire to this meeting. Tell me what you want to know and I will not hold back. This is where you get to know any and all the facts behind Alex Sexton." And he crossed his leg over his knee and smiled at her lovingly.

Avender laughed. "Lieutenant, I'm flattered- I'm not THAT interesting!" She picked up the PaDD from next to the chair, and looked at it for a moment. "Ok, Alex. I'll start with simple questions. Why did you train for security. Certainly, a man like you could have chosen any division at Starfleet." She tilted her head slightly, and looked at him expectantly.

Without hesitation: "I chose security because I understand the importance of getting it right the first time. Security is an area where if you drop the ball once, you may not get a second chance. Plus I know that's my sisters area of expertise and we work very well together." Replied Sexton

"And the danger doesn't bother you?" Avender asked.

Alex thought for a second. "Lovely lady. Look around you. We live in the vacuum of space, like a fish in water. One wrong move in any direction could mean certain death. Does the danger of that bother you?" He asked answering a question with an even more profound one!

"No, it doesn't, but I'm not often face to face with these dangers," the Chief Counselor replied.

"And by the same token, you deal with your pitfalls the same way I deal with mine. One at a time. Each mind you encounter is fragile per say. But you enter that relationship open minded and do what you been trained to do in hopes of a favorable outcome. It's the same with me. Each security situation I encounter I have variables and things that factor into every decision I make. And it's always the same. How can I accomplish my goal with minimal loss?" Replied Sexton

"I guess that's always the question," Avender said. "We all find our strength, rely on our training, and move forward. I'm sure you will do the right thing when the time comes."

"Counselor, in my mind there was never any doubt. Does that conclude the professional part of this visit?" He asked

Alex gazed more than looked at the counselor. This was the first woman in ages that had captured his attention in this way. But not knowing her situation left him at a place he had not visited in some time. He had his doubts about how she would feel about someone like him in another setting. But like momma once said, if you don't ask, you don't know.

"Yes, in fact it is. I'll send my report to the Captain that you've completed this part of onboarding," the curvy councillor said.

She smiled. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Alex heard her words, but was she talking professional or otherwise? There was only one way to find out. "Dinner?" Asked Alex "Yeah, I think dinner would be a good start. And if you think I'm being too forward, please use your gift, with my permission to read my feelings!" Replied Sexton

If she did, she would find a man who had seen in her something he had never seen in anyone before, and his feelings were true!

The betazoid smiled. "My shift ends at 2100. Shall we meet in 10 Forward?"

His heart skipped a beat. "21:10 in Ten forward. I'll head over there now and wait so nothing keeps me from our date." He said jokingly. "And thank you Avender for this opportunity to get to know you better!" And he stood up, turned toward the door and began walking. He only stopped to look over his shoulder and pinch himself. He nodded, acknowledged that he was in fact awake, smiled at her again and left the room.

To be continued

Alex had been cleared and now had full access of the ship and subspace communication. This gave him the leverage he needed to begin his preliminary investigation into the death of Lt Linden brock. After a considerable amount of hours talking to other Star Fleet Security Investigators in places he would rather not go, he was ready to get the captain his findings.

Captain,

A proper investigation begins with knowing or finding answers to all of the following. Who, What, When, Where, How and Why. The answers we seek can not be found on the Hera. This is my Prelim, and I look to you for your further guidance as to how deep down this rabbit hole you wish to go.

Security Investors Log:

Preliminary Report:

Death of Lt. Jules Lindenbrock:

Investigation revealed that person or persons Unknown by means of placing a coated time delayed release neurotoxin device in the brain of Lt. Jules Lindenbrock, caused her untimely demise by shutting down her Neuro-pathways causing instantaneous death. The quick work of the First Officer and the EMH was able to find the cause of death. Which I believe was not supposed to be identified, due to the quick dispersal of the casing in which the neurotoxin was housed. The findings of the EMH are undisputable. In order to find the responsible party, I recommend a trip to Virgo to enquire about project Gemini. This line of enquiry would be the most effective avenue to finding who perpetrated this crime, why and when it was first initiated and how such a thing could be avoided in the future. It is highly unlikely that I will get any satisfaction or cooperation from Intel on this matter. Due to the nature of the Intelligence Industry itself.

I surmise that we are looking for an assassin of considerable skill, as the method of extermination would have had to be installed in the victim whilst she was incapacitated. There for I suggest someone with a level of medical expertise might be involved. There is also the possibility that other operatives might have been subject to the same sort of implants as a method of avoiding interrogation if captured. Like the old cyanide pills used by accent earth spy’s. I have examined the roster of personnel on the Virgo, the victims last duty station looking for known Assassins, I can see based on my own experience, none with the level of skills required to carry out the intricate details of this assassination. However, there are several high-ranking Star Fleet Intel Personnel on station that might be capable of doing so, but highly unethical and unlikely. However as the saying goes. When everything logical seems to point at the unlikely, there is where we must look.

This concludes my preliminary investigation based on what we know. With the Captains permission, upon completion of the upcoming mission. I would like to investigate this matter further.

Lt Alex Sexton

The doors to the bridge opened to reveal Delta Shift manning it's stations, Chief Kader walked on without much eye contact or non-verbal interaction with it's crew as he made his way towards the XO's ready room. Duty Uniform withstanding, the Chief glanced over at the security station and the slightly young ensign working the control panel. It served as a reminder that he needed to review his lesson plan for the evening, studying for the SOCS test had recently took a back seat to his responsibility on-board the ship. Still, his personal and professional advancement was paramount.

Waiting to be instructed to enter, the Chief paused at the doors of Lieutenant Commander Paris’ office.

“If you are looking for the first officer, she’s never in there,” the ensign whispered to him. “If she’s in office she’s usually down in the flight control office on Deck 4, or she’s running around the ship if she isn’t serving bridge duty. But you’ll grow old and die waiting for anyone to answer that door, Chief.”

Kader looked at the Ensign, then back at the door before turning towards the Ensign and tapping his commbadge.

=A= Locate Executive Officer Lieutenant Commander Paris. =A=

=A= Lieutenant Commander Paris is on Deck Four, Flight Control Office. =A=

Kader nodded towards the Ensign and responded. "Thank you Ma'am." Turning away before allowing her to acknowledge back. Walking back towards the lift, the doors opened as the computer responded to the request for deck four from the Chief. A few moments later, Chief Kader was walking through the Flight Control area, eye's keen to the distinctive rank set on the collars as he made his way towards the Flight Control offices.

As for spotting the first officer, that turned out to be easier than he expected, although she herself was a bit unexpected.

Approaching the flight control office he caught a glimpse of a bright gold uniform that definitely stood out in the sea of black uniforms with grey shoulder accents and a hint of color at the collar to indicate department. A long-sleeved minidress, bearing a gold ribbon on the wrist shadowed by a broken ribbon above it hugged the rather pulchritudinous curves for the tall female human officer. Black leggings prevented her from creating an issue if she bent over, while black chunky-heeled knee boots covered her feet. Pale caucasian skin was evident, as the wide black accent offset V-neck collar bore the two solid and one broken pip that identified the woman’s rank, and as he watched she ran her fingers through the shock of relatively short blonde hair she maintained, sweeping it out of her eyes. Currently she was pacing the floor in measured military strides as she tapped away and at PaDD in her hand.

That...could only be his XO...Chief Kader paused for a second, then once sure it was her, made his way in her general direction.

"Commander Paris." He said as he stopped mid stride to allow a pair of officers to past between them. Once the path to her was clear, Chief Kader approached with his duty uniform in prepared condition as he made eye contact with her. Thought curious, he wasn't prepared to ask why all the activity on a relativity quiet portion of the ship, or what the XO's pacing actually meant. Instead, he closed-width on her and stopped within ear shot as to allow their conversation to be as private as the corridor would allow.

“That’s me. Come on in,” the unconventionally-uniformed officer answered, gesturing for him to enter the office.

"Chief Kedar...tactical. Do you have a moment?" His request was as mono-toned as his facial expression. No real sense of urgency or importance as the Chief wasn't the excitable type.

Inside the flight control office, the deck to overhead transparent aluminum walls offered a fantastic view of the Hera’s expansive flight deck, which occupied fully half of Deck 4. The officer in question stepped over to lean her rear against the front of one of the desks, then set her PaDD aside to focus on the conversation. Bright blue eyes took in the details of tall tactical chief in a casual inspection. “Of course, Chief. What can I do for you?”

As the door to the office closed behind them, Kader saw out of his peripheral what tantamount could have been the shuttles they were going to use in the cargo holds of Deck Four. Walking a little closer to the XO, his eyes locked on her as he spoke. "Commander the tactical teams are all set, Armory is synthesizing the mystical properties of the melee weapons as we speak and should be ready for dissemination within the hour."

Shifting his eyes away for a second, then back at Paris, he wasn't sure if his request was appropriate to bring to her. It would eventually make it's way to the XO, but his immediate supervisor was the person more apt to make the appropriate response and judgement. After all, breaking chain of command isn't how Jonas became a Chief. "They will be ready to move at your orders."

Picking up the tablet with a small frown, Paris tapped at it until the office door opened again. “Good to hear, Chief. Unless I’m mistaken, you’ll be going with team Selune with the infiltration and demolition team of Fine, Howard and Besser, and I believe that’s where your team will be supplementing. Team Thor has a separate mission, and Palmiotti, Conner and Bunche will be with me on that one. I had no doubt that the personnel would be ready, and Engineering has been working on the weaponry for a bit now, I’ve been following the reports.”

Eyeing the tactical officer with some curiosity, Lieutenant Commander Paris cocked her head slightly. “Something else on your mind, Chief?”

"No Commander, you've address everything with regards to the mission and team." In probably the only time he's shown some hesitation, Kader took an additional step towards the desk and spoke. "I did receive a protocol breech notification earlier about my presence on the bridge. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I do have the security clearance to serve on board the ship, I am striving to take and complete the officers examination soon but not having access to the bridge for... administrative reasons at this point does make may job alittle hard."

Taking a pause, he added. "Can I expect that to remain the policy and figure a work around to this?" The restrictions in reality had nothing to do with rank and more to do with status. Unless your bridge certified or senior staff, the bridge was off limits. The concern, though small to maybe those qualified, was still a hindrance to ship personnel like Jonas.

"You want access to the bridge," the unconventionally uniformed first officer crossed her arms beneath her rather prodigious bust, and eyed the tactical enlisted man. "That's quite curious. What part of your job is being made hard by you not having access to the bridge, Mister Kader? Color my curiosity piqued." To the uninitiated, her question may have seemed casual. But the experienced tactical officer could tell, the curvy commander was sizing him up, studying him more intently while looking for incongruous details.

Kader glanced down at the XO's slightly exposed legs...a way of being polite while contemplating, for a a split second before looking back at her and continuing.

"This is quite the unique ship Commander, up until now, my training has had me as a tactical operative first and security professional second. Now because intelligence has a special relationship with the Hera, not only do I have to reverse those roles, but I have to train others to do the same. Now that's part of the job, I have no quarrel with that, but I am...by defaults, the second in charge of security onboard this ship. This gesture, would allow me the access needed to properly and effective be the security asset the Hera needs."

Taking another moment to think, he smirked and looked at her before continuing. "Besides...what's the worst that can happen?"

A small smile graced the face of the pin-up pilot, as she uncrossed her arms to grip the edge of the desk. “Unless I misread my chain of command, Chief, the head of your department is Lieutenant French. The second in command of your department would be Lieutenant Sexton. As enlisted personnel, you are a bit down the chain of command from being second in command of the department in which you work.”

“As for the worst that could happen, we could ignore the rules and start bringing unauthorized personnel onto the bridge and violating security protocols, given that the bridge is a restricted area for a number of reasons. Which of course could result in a great number of security leaks, and as we are an Intel vessel, that could be catastrophic. So if this is a test to see if I understand said protocols, I hope that I passed. If it is an inappropriate request from someone with a poor grasp of the chain of command whose job is literally security, I would be less than thrilled to hear it. So this was a hypothetical question to see if I grasped bridge security, right?”

While the tone was chipper, the smile did not reach those appraising eyes, which were watching his reaction carefully. Paris had offered the chief an out on his request, if he chose to take it. Now she was curious how this would play out.

"Hypothetical... of course, Commander." Chief Kader responded as the smirk slowly dissipated from his face. "And you'll have to forgive the insinuation, security...as it stands right now. Appears to be more than ready to adequately handle the responsibility of the USS Hera, with or without me on the bridge." Biting his lower lip slightly...he allowed a brief silence between the two of them before responding. "Don't mean to keep you for your work, I don't have anything else at the moment. Will you be needing me further?"

“No, Chief, I don’t believe so. But conversely, I have always held a special place in my heart for mustangs… do they still call it that anymore? When an enlisted is striking for officer rank?” The commander raised an eyebrow questioningly, then continued without awaiting her answer. “If there is anything I can do to facilitate your officer application, do let me know. It’s a noble effort, and I support you.”

Nodding once to her, he responded as he turned to exit the office. "I do believe that what they are called Commander, and I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you." The doors to the office opened as the Chief walking into the hallway once more, disappearing among the faces and bodies of flight control towards the lift. The meeting was as productive as he'd hoped and knowing he had support from a member of the command staff in his pursuits meant a little more to him.

For her part, Paris frowned again at not having noticed the door, which she kept open as a matter of policy and had already ordered open once in the past 3 minutes, had closed again while she had been distracted. This time, mildly irritated, she sent the order to open and remain that way. Then a quick not to Lieutenant French regarding the discussion, which concerned her, and to the captain. After all, if the Hera had another potential security breach, better to get ahead of it then be chansing it.

“Getting paranoid in your old age, Rita…” the anachronistic astronaut muttered, returning to the tasks at hand.

It was at about oh eight hundred hours when Duran-Yeager was due to report for her second of her coming aboard checks, she was in to see the counselor as the new Chief of the Boat of the USS Hera smiled. 'Maybe she'll think I'm nuts. She won't be the first and nor the last either.' as she moved down the hallway before reaching her destination a few moments later.

The previous evening had seen her get something of a decent night's sleep after she had fallen asleep but getting there was not fun, she wasn't used to sleeping alone, the shorter then average female yawned softly before she herself the once-over, she noticed that her boots looked alright but they could have been better.

Duran-Yeager paused before she tapped the door chime once, before settling in to wait.

"Come!" she heard from inside.

The door shushed open, and she saw the new Chief Counselor. Avender Jurot was a very tall Betazoid woman- much taller than Syal. Her skin was very pale, and her auburn hair reached the small of her back. She was very curvy and busty, a fact that her tailored duty uniform accented.

"Senior Chief Duran-Yeager! I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Avender Jurot, the Chief Counselor. Please call me Avender. Won't you come in?"

Duran-Yeager entered the domain of the ship's counselor, she smiled as she regarded the taller and larger female before her. "Hello Avender." she paused. "Did I pronounce that right?" she inquired. "Sorry, it's always interesting meeting new people."

Avender smiled. "Yes, you pronounced it correctly. Please make yourself comfortable." She gestured toward a very comfortable couch. The entire room radiated serenity. The Betazoid counselor looked at the Senior chief, who noticed her black irised eyes.

Duran-Yeager entered the office as she regarded the taller, larger female before her. "Thank you. After the insanity of getting here. I am ready to put what happened behind me." she admitted. "Besides, I won't be telling my kids that their mom almost got kidnapped by an Orion slaver." before the small Bajoran let out a quiet sigh.

"Yes, I read your report. I'm very glad that you survived, and came through it as strong as you did. That experience would've crushed a weaker person," Avender said.

The Chief Counselor sat in a chair next to the couch. Between the two was a small glass top table with an archaic box of tissues on it.

Avender gestured again toward the couch. Please, relax. We'll start whenever you're ready."

Duran-Yeager decided not to argue or to fight, rather than simply outright deny that there was an issue or that she needed help, the small Bajoran female sat on the sofa before she regarded the tissues in silence for a moment. "I'm... honestly not sure of where to begin," she said quietly, suddenly the small woman stifled a yawn. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well.. I'm not used to sleeping alone."

"Well," the Betazoid woman said, "that sounds like a place to start."

Syal let out a small sigh as she considered it. "I do miss my husband and kids." as she regarded the large female before her. "Do you have children Avendar?" she inquired, in a gentle tone.

"No, I don't," Avender said. "My Izmadi was assimilated by the Borg before we could have children."

Duran-Yeager's smile vanished like a snowball on Vulcan. "I'm sorry," she answered in a quiet tone of voice. She had not been expecting that one and the look on her face said as much.

"Thank you," Avender said. "I know what it means to miss a loved one. However, we're both here today to help you."

"Considering how close my children came to losing their mother to some Orion drug lords pleasure pit," Duran-Yeager commented. "I suspect I'm going to have nightmares about that for quite some time to come," she admitted, to her there was nothing to be gained by making life harder for herself then she needed to. Also, Duran-Yeager had never understood why many of her contemporaries and colleges had this fear of therapists. "It doesn't help I'm not used to sleeping alone."

"Yes, you are right," the Betazoid counselor said. "Nightmares can be a way for the brain to cope with trauma. However, you have a family who loves you. Time with family helps, but sometimes life gets in the way. How often do you speak to your loved ones?"

Duran-Yeager held her silence for a moment. "I just left Starbase Twenty Three and the last time I talked to my kids was two weeks ago and my spouse was two days ago. He was on duty at the time so he couldn't drag the kids out of school because their mother was calling them." the small Bajoran explained. "I'm not quite sure of this ships communications protocols as yet so I've been trying a letter for the family, it should be done in a day or two."

The Counselor smiled. "Family is often the best medicine. I'm sure if you asked, the Captain would allow you use of communications to speak to your children. It can't hurt to ask!"

"I will ask her." Duran-Yeager responded with a gentle smile. "The Fe'garren is a little far for coms in real time so I'll be stuck with letters until her mission ends. Michael and I were both expecting this." the small Bajoran explained. "It sometimes sucks, these long separations but I endure them for my career. I know I'll be reunited with my family someday."

"I know you will as well," Avender said. "Your family is your strength."

"They are, and I miss them but, I will make do with what I have." at this statement, Duran-Yeager smiled at the larger female before her.

"You are very strong, and a credit to your family and ship," Avender said, smiling.

"I do what I can." Duran-Yeager answered. "This crew saved me from who know what the Orion slavers would have done to me. It's not something I like to think about... being carted off to slavery I mean.." the small female paused. "Dwelling on it doesn't help and there is little point thinking about it.. So I move forward with life."

"That's all any of us can do," the Counselor said, standing.

"Yep." Duran-Yeager answered as she likewise stood up. "I am alive, I'm going to stay that way, with whatever it takes." she added.

It was 04:00 hours when the door chime rang. Ignoring it did not stop it's persistence, however. Then the communicator on her uniform chirruped. Then the air above her bed chirruped, and the voice of the perennially cheerful first officer spoke from the vibration of the SFI generations.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Dauntless. It's Lieutenant Commander Paris, I'm sure you remember me from the other day. You've got three minutes to be out here in running clothes ready to take a little jog with me. During which you can brief me on why the captain wants me to shove you into a class 8 probe armed only with your, and I quote, 'sense of superiority and much-vaunted wits' and fire you at Hera's World to engage in diplomatic negotiations with, and again I quote, 'her clearly superior negotiation skills'."

Delilah's eyes opened with a groan of protest at the unwelcome intrusion upon her slumber. The young operations officer rolled over onto her back, and opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling. The accent lighting that ran along the baseboards of her quarters' walls bathed the confines of her room in the dim gray twilight of an early morning sky before dawn. Delilah guessed the time of day to be somewhere between 04:00 and 04:30 hours. For salvation's sake, thought the diminutive young woman, as she reached out with an arm and felt along the surface of the bedside table for her Starfleet-issue combadge, before realizing that with a shipboard communications channel already open, her combadge was unnecessary.

"Commander," grumbled the 20 year-old, her girlish voice failing to convey her precise level of aggravation, "I was unaware we had an appointment for so early this morning." The last word of her sentence dissolved into a wide an unwelcome yawn.

"Well, the truth is, we don't. But I thought that rather then send you to certain doom, maybe we should take a little unscheduled meeting time," the lieutenant commander cheerfully replied. "If it's inconvenient for you I can always cancel, and we can proceed to test your people skills on the angry goddess who has literally torn apart our last three diplomatic delegations...?"

Ugh... "Alright, Commander," replied the young lieutenant, already regretting not having died in her sleep last night. "Acknowledged."

"Minute and a half, Miss Dauntless. Tempus fugit," The disembodied voice reminded, then the channel closed.

Delilah groaned. With no small amount of effort, the dainty little lieutenant threw aside the wrinkled, white silk sheets that had covered her naked body, and gave a sigh of resignation. It's fine, Delilah reasoned, as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and sat up, groggily. I was planning on getting a workout in before shift, anyway. Early morning exercise had always been a part of her daily routine. Admittedly, the prospect of having to share that routine with another person did not appeal to the aloof young lady at all. Then again... perhaps there was something to be gleaned from the inconvenience... something that Delilah might be able to use to her advantage? With a derisive snort and a shake of her head, Delilah stood, greeted the dawn's early artificial light with a naked stretch and another yawn, then set about getting dressed.

It was barely a minute later as the door to Delilah's quarters swished open, and the petite 20 year-old shuffled out to meet Rita Paris in the corridor. Her jet-black hair, usually worn up in a severe tight bun, was now wild & untamed, with only a white terry-cloth headband to keep it at bay. A white Starfleet Academy-issue tensolyne sports bra and matching leggings hugged her petite mocha-skinned frame, and left her arms and midriff bare. A pair of minimalist split-toed running shoes, completed the young woman's look.

"I'm here, Commander," said Dauntless, looking up at the tall & buxom executive officer with bleary ice-blue eyes.

"Well, so you are, Miss Dauntless!" the cheerful commander observed. Clad in a grey sports bra that seemed to be something of an architectural wonder, bearing an outdated Starfleet Academy logo and a pair of matching shorts that clung to the woman's overabundant curves like a second skin, Paris flashed a dazzling smile at the junior officer. Of course she's a morning person.. "Would you care to do some stretches beforehand, limber up a bit? Preparation can be crucial in such matters, in my experience," Placing one running-shoed foot on the handrail of the corridor, Paris leaned into a stretch that demonstrated a surprising limberness as she laid her head on her outstretched knee.

"So are we headed to the holodeck, Commander?" asked Delilah, stifling yet another yawn as she braced a hand against the doorframe for balance. Delilah then lifted her left foot, hyper-flexing her knee until the sole of her foot cupped her own buttock, and she felt a good tensile stretch in her left quad.

"Not at all, Miss Dauntless," the friendly first officer nattered on as she switched feet. Of course, Paris had done her stretches and warmup in her quarters beforehand. But she was pleased to see that the young lieutenant recognized the need for it and had obliged- perhaps the first acquiescence the woman had offered since coming aboard. Maintaining her pleasant presentation, Rita doubled down on the lecture. After all, one of the metrics she was watching was how Dauntless would react to such a thing, on a few levels. "Before there were holodecks, we ran the decks of the starship that was our home, and that's part of how we kept ourselves fit. Also prepared for one of the most-oft used skills in our Starfleet repertoire- running away so we could find time to concoct a plan using what we'd learned out this situation. So this morning, rather than try some nature trail or time track, I thought we might bring it back to basics."

"Understood," Delilah said, having stretched her right quad in a similar fashion to the left. With that, Delilah stood with her feet together, then bent forward at the waist, until her forehead touched her knees, and the frizzy ends of her wild hair tickled the tops of her running shoes. The tension in her hyper-extended hamstrings and calves told the tale of how effective a stretch she was getting. "I guess the Captain probably spoke to you about our... conversation?" asked the 20 year-old, mid-stretch.

"Mmmmm," Paris bounced a few times on the balls of her feet, ready to go, but patient as always. "In fact, she had me watch the footage, to insure I would have the opportunity to enjoy your performance firsthand. Quite the strategy to deliberately antagonize the woman who controls your fate for the duration of your service on her starship. Her Starfleet Intelligence classified starship that does not officially exist, which means that for our service, neither do we. But you did get her angry, so that means you certainly won that round, Miss Dauntless." Pausing, the big blonde cocked her head and opened her eyes wide. "I'll admit I am curious as to what your long-term strategy was, as clearly my less than stellar intellect cannot conceive of what stratagem your are employing in which you would be so suicidal as an opening gambit."

Delilah tried to stifle a smile with a shake of her head. "It wasn't really strategy, Sir," Dauntless replied. She stood and completed her stretching routine with a couple of side bends to hyper-extend her oblique muscles, first on the left, then on the right. "I guess it was just reflex." After a moment's pause, the young lieutenant added, softly, "I don't know... she just... her trying to manipulate me... I didn't like it." Delilah shrugged, then performed alternating knee raises, and finally nodded to indicate that she was ready to begin. "Ready when you are, Commander."

Said commander was staring at her agape, then a small smile crossed her face. "Why Lieutenant, I think that might be the first honest thing you've said to me. All right, let's start with that." The long-legged lieutenant commander started off at a light jog, perhaps 5km an hour. Assuming Dauntless was with her, she continued speaking. "It could be viewed as a manipulation attempt, sure. Like you deliberately goading the captain by calling her 'sir'. It could also be viewed as her attempting to motivate you. Being self-interested above all else, if there is no reason for you to work with us, why would you? But a chance to work with unknown technologies, now there is a motivation for our Ms. Dauntless. At least, I would assume so?"

Though she was beginning to express some cutting analysis, that cheerful tone never wavered as the early bird executive trotted effortlessly along. It was clear that despite her physique, this was a regular activity of the chirpily cheerful commander.

"Motivation... manipulation... it's all the same thing, Commander," observed Delilah. The petite lieutenant did her best to stay in lockstep with the taller, longer-legged XO, as they rounded the end of one hallway and cantered onto the corridor of Deck 8 Forward. As easy-going as their pace was, Dauntless found herself constantly having to speed up to match Rita's longer stride. "At any rate, it's unnecessary at best, and insulting at worst. I went to the same Academy as everyone else. I took the same oath... I wear the same uniform. If that's not good enough for her, then my pretending to give a damn about her personal opinion of me, certainly won't change anything." Delilah snorted, shaking her head as she began to recall the particulars of her & the Captain's conversation. "Loyalty... pfft. I offer professional excellence... she wants foolish sentiment. It's ridiculous."

"Ah, loyalty, honor, duty... they certainly are old-fashioned concepts," the first officer offered. "So, I'm curious how you plan to approach Hera? It certainly is brave of you to stick to your principles like that. I have to admire you for that. But I'll admit, I'd be stumped in your shoes- but then, I'm not you. I think she may even be sending you ahead of Counselor Jurot, who insisted on attempting to negotiate with her even after seeing the statue gallery of the last petrified delegation."

"To be honest, I haven't figured out a way to deal with this 'Hera' entity," admitted Delilah, her brow furrowing in frustration. "My research into the technologies of their species has been less than productive. How is 'Hera' able to do what she can do? It's energy-matter conversion technology, no doubt... but what kind? How exactly does it work? Energy means output. Output means there is a mechanism, a process of some kind, at play. What is it? If we can figure out the process, then we can figure out a way to interrupt it, to stop it... maybe even use it ourselves." Delilah sighed as they rounded the end of the Deck 8 Forward corridor and trotted together down the main corridor that curved along the length of Deck 8 Starboard. "You and your people are planning to head down to the planet?" she asked the taller woman.

"We are. Our assignment is to disrupt her army, cripple supply lines and stop her weapon and starship production." As soon as Dauntless comported as a professional, Paris in turn did the same, speaking honestly with her fellow officer about her mission. "Which I'd prefer without having to blow it all to smithereens, because there are innocent people down there she keeps ground beneath her heel, worshiping her out of fear. I've no idea how to accomplish that, and I'm being dispatched in a rather state of the art fighter craft that has the capacity to decimate most of the planet. The future, it seems, is a bit morally complex."

"Hmm," agreed Dauntless with a grunt. The young lieutenant could feel the first hint of perspiration on her soft mocha skin as they ran along. The corridors were mostly empty, thanks to the early ungodly hour, so there was no one else but the lieutenant commander running next to her to see her sweat. The petite girl had begun to adjust to the pace needed to keep up with Rita's strides. "So this entity," Delilah mentioned, "this 'Hera'. She claims to be a goddess, but I'm not really familiar with this mythological figure that she is supposed to be impersonating. What can you tell me about her myths... her motives? Why these attacks?"

Showing an interest in the mission is a positive sign, Paris thought to herself as she maintained the pace. As a recent Academy grad, Dauntless would have no trouble keeping up the standard military jogging pace. But it engaged her body, freeing her mind from social constraints to engage problems. So far so good.

"Zeus is her husband, who according to mythology had a habit of having sex with just about everything that he ran across. As a shapeshifter, that made him pretty diverse. And that's just in Earth mythology. Apparently he really exists, and he has, shall we say, dallied with a number of races of the galaxy, ours included. Hera has had enough of being the spurned wife and has apparently decided to whistle up an insanely powerful mythological army, dispatching them across the galaxy to vent her ire about Zeus' galactic-scale unfaithfulness."

For real?, Delilah thought to herself as she kept pace with Lieutenant Commander Paris. A woman scorned? All this power at this 'Hera' person's command, and it all amounts to nothing more than a glorified temper tantrum? Seriously? Delilah didn't have the words to describe how utterly disappointing that was, and so her silence had to suffice.

A pause of a few heartbeats passed before Paris said quietly, "This was all in the briefing, Miss Dauntless, which you did attend. I am surprised to have to recap anything to you, of all people."

"I'm well aware of what was discussed in the briefing commander," huffed Delilah, annoyed, "Just trying separate what is myth from what is reality. You say this shapeshifting Zeus spread his genetic material across a number of humanoid races? Then where is he? Where are the other beings like him, like her? Is she the last one left? If she has allies, does she have enemies?"

"Let's not get distracted from the matter at hand, Miss Dauntless." Rita was reasonably pleased by the interest, but the fact that she was asking for information she'd already received made the first officer feel she was being stonewalled. Time to spell it out. "You made the woman angry enough to order you on a mission that is basically a death sentence. At the morning meeting, I have to give her a reason why I recommend you for bridge duty instead of torpedo duty. Give me something to work with, Dauntless. Give me confidence that you can work out a way to jam the frequency at which Hera processes the energy. Tell me those fancy degrees and critical thinking are going to produce results I can sell to the captain, girl genius. Because you think I'm joking about that 'firing you at the planet' thing, that I'm trying to scare you. I wish that were true, Miss Dauntless. Captain Telvan does not bluff, nor does she ever make hollow threats."

The surprisingly spry supercentenarian space explorer ran along silently for a bit, letting that sink in. It was a gamble, like lots of dealing with difficult young officers. But she'd roll the dice and take her chances. Given her lifestyle, Dauntless had never actually perceived of such a threat before and Paris hoped it might crack the icy exterior just enough for a Starfleet officer to peek out. Or a woman so desperate to get away from the captain she'd do anything. Which was a sensation with which Paris was personally familiar.

Delilah shook her head, unable to contain her annoyance any longer. "Commander," huffed the little lieutenant, doing her level best to keep her cool, "I don't think I possess the vocabulary to express how much I truly do not care about the Captain's feelings. If having me killed is the best way she can think of to win an argument... to make herself feel better... then she's really no different from this Hera person, is she? It's pathetic, really." The young woman's elfin features were a mask of bitter disdain. "As far as my coming up with a plan... it just so happens I may have an idea."

Well, that did NOT work, but there's that Starfleet officer you were looking for, Paris noted to herself. She may not have gotten through with fear, but Dauntless had clarity of vision, and that was far better. "Thank you, Miss Dauntless. That does grant me considerably deeper insight into just who you are, and it's good to see you live up to your name. You should perhaps learn to care. It might not save your life, but it certainly would enhance it."

"Beta shift tomorrow, the away teams are off at 22:00 hours. The scanners were all recently recalibrated in spacedock, and they are at your disposal. There is live telemetry coming from three spy satellites we have in orbit, try to not get them noticed. You could potentially save an inordinate number of lives and prevent considerable bloodshed if you can disrupt her energies and render Hera mortal, Miss Dauntless. We believe she is using a hyperband of subspace buried in the noise floor. Disrupting and jamming her communications could also make a significant difference."

Delilah's eyes widened lightly as she nodded in response to Commander Paris' information. A hyperband of subspace, the young lieutenant thought, fighting to suppress a smile. Hyperband subspace communications are beyond our current technology. The possibilities for cracking that technology alone...

"Commander," managed Dauntless, as she trotted next to the taller woman. "I think you just gave me what I needed to make that idea of mine an actual viable option. If I can analyze that telemetry... if it supports my hypothesis... I may have that way to disrupt this 'Hera' person's technology you were looking for."

"That might come in very handy indeed, Miss Dauntless. Be prepared for a signal from me when I'm on the surface, and let's hope by then you've got it worked out." Paris turned her head to regard her petite shipmate. "Now race you through the cornered corridors!"

At that, Rita Paris opened up her stride and took off, the experienced cross-country runner taking advantage of the surprise she had sprung on the operations chief to sprint ahead. But somehow she suspected the little lieutenant would strive to catch up until she succeeded, because she was willing to be that Delilah Dauntless really didn't like to lose.

Asa pressed the chime to the Captain's ready room. After receiving confirmation the Captain could see them this morning, Asa compiled the information they had reviewed with the EMH last night and requested a meeting time to speak with the Captain. They had also let the EMH know what time the meeting was in the event there was more to report on.

The Captain was in her ready room sipping a cup of tea, still trying to wake up. In front of her was a small boxed breakfast that her wife had made her and she was slowly enjoying it as she had the computer read the night's logs to her. She had a meeting with the Doctor this morning about a genetics project of some sort. She was sure she'd hear all about it as soon as they got here so she wasn't too worried about that. What she was more worried about was that her wife's cooking seemed to have reached a new level and she'd put on almost a kilo in the past few weeks.

After receiving word to enter, Asa skittered in through the door with all the grace of Jack Russell puppy. They were slightly wired from the lack of sleep, with a bit of red in their eyes, but the energy that only youth can grant.

“Good morning Captain!,” they said brightly, and stood in front of the Captains desk, not wanting to sit without permission in front of a superior officer. Well, at least not in their domain. The doctor showed no reluctance in Sick Bay, but this was, after all, the Captains lair.

“If this is still a good time, I may have found something interesting in medical testing results you shared with me from other encounters with these so-called gods.” The scorn in the word gods was palpable, but other than that, the young doctor remained affable, if a bit odd.

"Oh? What's that?" Enalia's curiosity was piqued at this as she had assumed no new evidence had been brought to light, or if it had, that it had been further classified. Motioning to the seats on the other side of her desk, she continued. "Please, have a seat and tell me about it."

“Um, yes ma’am, thank you,” Asa moved to perch on the seat like an anxious bird. “I have enlisted the aid of the EMH to reverse engineer the data we have from the previous test. Don’t worry, he is sworn to secrecy, and his contribution have already proven invaluable to the effort. Whilst we were working on this last night, he revealed that packets of data pertaining to how the worship of supplicants is translated in energy by their organ was missing. What’s more, it was missing in a manner that seemed to indicate deletion instead of faulty or incomplete research. Is there any chance Starfleet has additional records we could be viewed to see? “

"Hmmm... Let's see what we can find out, then." Enalia pulled up the research data herself and looked it over but it was no use - she was no doctor and no scientist. She'd just have to take Asa's word for it. Instead, she ran a check on the files to see if there were any associated with them or if they had been tampered with. After a few seconds, her desk terminal seemed to lock up, then reset.

Holding her hands away from the terminal in surprise, she had an idea of what that meant. "Ok... I think I see... There are secrets even I can't know, is that it? My Yeoman might have better luck. She's normally in one of the pod's labs. I might be putting a bit more faith into her than I should be on this one, but she's made miracles happen in the past."

“Thank you for checking Captain, I will go speak with her now. Do I have your clearance to continue to trust the EMH to run scenarios and aid in research while I am otherwise occupied? He is more than competent and I believe can be trusted.”

"Yeah, he has an encryption processor installed in his matrix just for cases like this. He's more trustworthy than any other EMH I know of whether he knows it or not." Enalia turned back to the doctor and nodded. "To get to Ila, I'd recommend going to the mission pod's lounge and calling her from there. She normally seals the Intel labs pretty tight since most of them shouldn't exist."

Walking over to the nearby labs, Asa found the Yeoman indicated by the captain. They walked up and offered a hand, feigning confidence while stating “Yeoman Dedjoy? Doctor Asa Dael, if you have a moment?”

“Thank you Captain, then by your leave?” Asa replied, waiting until the Captain nodded before making their exit.

They boarded the turbo lift, resisting the urge to lean against the wall during the long ride to the mission pod lounge. Upon exiting, they called the Yeoman through the com badge stating, “Yeoman Dedjoy, this is Doctor Dael. Would you mind joining me in the lounge, or should I come to you? The Captain thought you might be able to assist with something.”

"I'll come to you, Doctor. Please stand by," replied Ila over the comms after a moment. It took her less than a minute to join the doctor in the lounge. Greeting Asa with a nod, she glanced over at the holographic displays along the far wall. The pod didn't have windows so the lounge had holographic windows linked to the sensor arrays to compensate for that and with the more subdued silver and grey late 2200 vibe the lounge gave off, it was a bit of a contrast to the golds and tans of the rest of the ship.

"What can I help you with, Doctor?" Ila asked as she sized up the rather androgynous being before her.

"Um, hi. I was working to see if I could replicate some test results from Starfleet in a holographic environment, but, well, the data is incomplete. Could you please look at this file and see if you can suss out where the missing data ran off to? Perhaps Starfleet redacted or withdrew part of the file, and if so, it would potentially be an enormous help to see the complete data," Asa babbled while handing over a PaDD with the confidential files loaded onto it.

Ila looked over the file properties of each file as she slipped into one of the chairs. Pulling out her own PaDD, she set to work with an analysis program from there as well. "Lucky, search your databases for fragments pertaining to..." Tapping out a few commands on her PaDD, she sent them to the computer. "These files."

"Processing. Analyzing data now." The reply from the computer was of a british voice rather than the normal feminine voice across the rest of the ship. "Partial data fragments found but I'm not sure you'll like them. They relate to project Symbiosis."

Ila's head shot up, looking towards the ceiling. "Well no... I probably won't..." She then fixed her doll-like gaze on Asa. "Doctor, this data is from experiments done by Section 31 to create a super-soldier that was supposed to defend the Federation in the event of a crisis. It went very badly. Are you sure you need this data?"

Asa's mouth went dry at the mention of the notorious Section 31. "Yes, sadly, I am. The data may hold the key to defeating Hera. The bits I saw were already....well, gruesome, but I will not turn away any intel that will keep this crew alive...."

Ila nodded and set back to work. "Lucky, replicate an Intel Padd and transfer the data to it."

"Processing," the computer replied, followed by the sound of the replicator activating nearby. Then the sounds of a PaDD operating could be heard as the porcelain skinned woman got back up and headed to the replicator to get it. Glancing over the data being dumped into it, she nodded. "Yeah this is well past gruesome... I think this violates every ethics and moral treatment code in the Federation, not to mention eugenics laws." As soon as the dump finished, she picked up Asa's original PaDD and handed both over to the Doctor. "Good luck."

Asa expressed thanks and made their way back to Sick Bay. "EMH, are you available to speak with me?" they called while loading the new data into the program they had been working on with the posh sounding hologram.

Stepping out from the sickbay offices, the EMH looked up from the PaDDs he was still reading over. "I am. Did you find the missing data?"

"Yes, thank you for coming. I have it loaded onto this display if you like," they replied and pointed to a screen on the wall next to their desk. Asa was reading over it on a PaDD as well.

"This is....nasty stuff. Light, who thought up some of this? It shows complete disregard for the subject...not to mention this NEVER should have been in real life trials!" the doctor was getting progressively more disgusted as they reviewed the intel.

Their face was crimson red, although with rage, not the customary embarrassment. Asa's eyes darkened as they resisted the urge to throw up. "It appears that a device is used to amplify worship into psionic energy, which was fed directly into the subjects. Are you seeing anything different? It's possible I'm letting my fury get away with me." they said in a cold, deep tone.

"No... I think I'm seeing the same thing..." The EMH wasn't programmed for extreme bouts of anger, but if he were, this would have triggered it. "This whole thing was a testament to unethical medical practices. It's like they sought out every possible thing they could violate and violated it."

“Well, at least we have all the data. It does appear that the so-called gods were using psionic energy from worship to fuel their power. Considering most of their rank and file servants are human (assuming our Intel is correct), the psionic energy coming into them would be extremely diffuse. This must be why they have a focus, like Apollo did with his temple. What are the known parameters for devices used in concentrating psionic energy? Do you know of any size limitations?”

"From the data we have, I have no way of knowing if there's a size limit or not. Just that the device wouldn't need to be very large for small collection. For larger collection, a system of temple structures..." The EMH drifted off in thought, contemplating the very nature of what he was proposing. "If you had a network of devices in every temple across a planet, you could collect energy from every being that mentions your name."

The doctor steepled their fingers against their mouth and made a hummmmm noise in the back of their mouth. After a brief pause, they replied, "I had a feeling it would be something like that. Apollo desired love, but he was only really getting fed, so to speak, by one person. You can force someone to chant your name, but not to love you. Double that when you actively make their life a living hell. But forced mantras? Yeah, that would do the trick. I'm guessing the devices would be spread out with several redundancies in place. Well, good thing I'm going to disrupt."

They began pacing the floor staring at the displays in front of them. "I'm seeing that the experiments attempted to transplant one of the organs from the Hellenics into humans, and then fed psionic energy into it via unwilling telepaths. Absolutely disgusting, but the energy was potent. Something in the human physiology rejects the transplant, and then also makes attempts to use it......explodey. So, lets put aside transplant. No one needs one of these damn things. How do we replicate the explodey factor. It is a terrible option, but might be a good one against Hera if it's all we got. Thoughts?"

"I suspect that their biology is evolved to handle it in a way that that would be almost impossible, but if we could reverse the flow..." The EMH ran a few quick calculations before finishing the thought. "Yes, we might be able to make them implode rather than explode."

“Well, even better! Less to clean up!” the doctor replied with a lopsided grin. “So, what do we need, and can I fit it in an away team bag?”

The EMH started running simulation after simulation to try and figure out the power levels needed to do it for an entity like Hera and eventually, his frustration started showing as he had to just start running them on the sickbay mainframe rather than in his head. Eventually, he had an answer. "Ok, you'll need three tricorders, the main device at the main temple... And the ship's main deflector... And about a thousand people wishing death upon her. Or... a portable deflector and about a hundred thousand people."

A mirthless chuckle passed through the doctors lips. They ran their fingers through their short cropped hair and rubbed the bridge of their nose. “Well, the three tricorders part is easy…I imagine the people wishing her death is pretty simple too. Can the Thor be used as a portable deflector?”

"Probably, but the ship would be useless at the time and she'd have to be standing still. That and there might not be that many people close enough to her temples." The EMH punched in a bit more data and tried to come up with another solution. "On top of that, she might be able to feed on the negative energy as well. There's mythological data that shows that some deities did so."

"Well shit." Asa concluded. They were leaving to go to the surface later today, and felt no closer to finding a way to defeat Hera. "Can you please forward the data we have to the Captain? It sounds like she will need this information more than I. The Thor won't be able to be that much of a target I don't think, and I can't make this strategic call anyway. I guess my best bet is to try to reduce her positive energy. Back where I started...." the young doctor sighed in frustration.

Tapping the starburst combadge on her abundant left breast, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris strode into the armory. "Chief Yeager, I have a question I'd like to ask you in person if you have a moment? I'm in the armory, Deck 11." Tapping the badge again to end the transmission, she spoke to the security personnel manning the desk.

The response came fast. "Aye, ma'am. I'm on my way."

"Paris, L-T-C-D-R, 8675309," the Starfleet legacy officer called out, and the computer chirped.

=^= Authorization accepted, Lieutenant Commander Paris =^=

Plucking the phaser from her side, she held it up in an open-fingered grip of surrender. "I'm declaring my type 2 phaser."

"Acknowledged, ma'am," offered the security officer. "Say, Commander, may I see your sidearm?"

The first officer drew upright at that but cocked her head slightly before stepping over in a swiveling, somewhat predatory stride to the petty officer who'd asked.

"What's your name, mister?" the gold-clad commander inquired.

"Petty Officer Second Class Barista, ma'am."

"Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, Petty Officer Second Class Barista. Nice to meet you. Ever seen a classic model 2266 type 2? Well, outside a history class or a museum?" As the petty officer shook his head, Paris produced the weapon, presenting it in both hands before looking at the attention she was drawing.

"Eyes on your duty, people, look sharp, now," the first officer looked around archly, reminding the security personnel to stay on the job. "Mister Barista and I are having a private conversation."

For the next five minutes, the explorer of a bygone age and the modern security officer bonded over a mutual appreciation of the versatility of the classic 2266 Type 2, with the removable Type 1. By the time the chief of the boat arrived, Paris had agreed to requisition some for the armory, so that Mr. Barista might try it out for himself.

The door opened and in walked the shorter then average Bajoran whose presence had been requested, Duran-Yeager easily spotted the unique executive officer before moving speedily over to her. "Commander, you requested my presence ma'am?" Duran-Yeager inquired.

Glancing over and down, Paris took in the sight of the senior chief. "Ah, Senior Chief Yeager. Glad you could join me. Yes, I wanted to discuss the upcoming mission with you, if you have the time. Shall we?" Gesturing to the armory, Paris then began to stride into it. Apparently, she assumed the chief would follow as she kept talking. "I assume you already have a template on file for an EVA suit since they are custom fitted? Possibly the MACO EVA armor?"

Duran-Yeager followed in silence. "Yes, ma'am. I have my questions about the coming mission." she paused a moment as she regarded the larger female from behind as she followed Paris into the armory. I have a template on file but I don't have a suit made for me yet. I apologize, ma'am, as I have not yet gotten to it," she explained apologetically. "I was going to get to it before I went off watch."

"You haven't been aboard long, Chief- nothing to apologize for. If you bring up your template in the armor replicator over there, it should be able to get your suit ready in a jiffy. Assuming you're coming on the away team- ah," Paris snapped her fingers. "You have questions. I've got answers. Ask away while I suit up and I'll tell you what I can." Paris tapped at one of the armory replicators and produced the body glove with microvasculature assist for herself.

Duran-Yeager moved to the nearby console. "Let's see.." she commented. "Ahh, my paperwork did catch up with me, excellent." as she called up the specs for her own suit of armor plating. The small Bajoran turned to the larger human female nearby as she had an odd look on her face. "Do you want me to come on the away team ma'am?" she inquired.

"More of an offer, really," Paris called over her shoulder as she stepped into a changing room. Apparently, the Amazonian astronaut was a bit old-fashioned about shared nudity. As she closed the curtain, she kept talking. "I don't know if you're up for it- you have been through a lot. Some prefer to spend time alone or focus on work, some prefer to get back out there and get into the thick of things. I'm suiting up now because I'm due on the flight deck in an hour. You're welcome to be part of the landing party if you wish."

"I do, Ma'am," Duran-Yeager answered as she tapped the display before her, a suit of armor appeared before her. Duran-Yeager had no nudity taboo as she began peeling off her clothing so she could don the armor, within moments she was down to her underwear before she began climbing into the armor. The small Bajoran quickly powered up the display inside her armor while she quickly called up her custom settings. "Alright. Let's give these bastards a good hammering," she commented more to herself than to anyone else but because she had said it aloud, she knew others had heard her speaking.

Duran-Yeager quickly finished securing her armor, then she donned the two extra medkits she had requested, onto the thigh pouches of her armor. "Ma'am, when do we get issued weapons.?" Duran-Yeager inquired of Paris, who she assumed was still nearby. "Do you have any more of those old style phasers you like?" the small Bajoran suddenly smiled. "I can aim properly instead of guessing where my ordinance will fly."

Stepping out from the changing room, Paris' custom hardshell was a metallic yellow emblazoned with a Starfleet symbol that hadn't been used in over a century. The black bodyglove beneath lent it a very retro look, despite the modern nature of the armor. "I have to agree, I can at least aim my phaser. I'm afraid this is the only one I have, but we'll be stocking them up when we get back. TR-116Cs for this mission chief, sidearm of your choice. Loadout your kit how you like."

Tapping the Starfleet emblem twice, the armor turned nonreflective black, then Paris tapped it twice again to return it to its bright coloration. Stepping over to the weapons rack, the first officer slung the large carbine over her shoulder via the strap as she affixed a short sword to her back. Then she added a truncheon in her hip holster, her personal phaser on her right hip, a survival knife in her calf plating and a grapnel wirepoon at the small of her back. A few surprisingly heavy and dense clips clapped magnetically to cover her kidneys, while a similarly secured pair of high explosive granades she attached sideways at the hip. Moving and whirring, she took some experimental stretches in the armor, satisfied that the systems check seemed satisfactory. Retracting the helmet but retaining the gold tinged visor, Paris ran her armored hand through her short shock of blonde hair.

"Well then, Chief, if you're ready to deploy?" the armored Valkyrie asked the petite petty officer.

Duran-Yeager lifted two sidearms before she secured them both to her hips before she lifted one of the TR-116 rifles, she slung it over her shoulders so the but of the weapon was visible over her right shoulder. "I am ready ma'am." as she picked up a fire suppressor and added it to her gear. "I have everything I need." she paused a moment as she considered telling Paris about her loss but she decided against it. "What is our objective?"

"Cripple an army, disable a starship manufacturing facility and win over the hearts and minds of the people. You know, just another day in Starfleet..."

"Shouldn't take us too long, we might even be back in time for dinner." Duran-Yeager answered with a smile. "Another glorious day in the grand army of the republic." she added, a wide smile on her face. "This armor is cozy. I might wear it more often."

Scheduled launch time was 22:00, but Lieutenant Commander Paris had requested that the away team meet in the experimental Gryphon class runabout while it was still being prepped for launch. Suited up in her customized MACO armor, the gold-clad commander's armor looked less like combat armor and more like exploratory gear, save for the assault rifle on her back and the anachronistic phaser at her hip. Sitting on the steps of the open hatchway, she awaited her team's arrival.

Internally, Rita was conflicted. The angry extraterrestrial entity known as Hera had declared war on many of the sentient humanoid races of the Federation, and was sending out warships to enforce her desire for destruction. She had callously and quite cruelly destroyed every diplomatic emissary mission sent her way. Suffering and sadism seemed to be her stock in trade.

Yet as the old-school officer studied the holographic representation of the planet with the mission objectives highlighted on the globe, no brilliant plan came to her mind of how to bring this conflict to a peaceable resolution. Supply lines had to be cut. Communications disrupted. Factories destroyed. Time and again it had been proven that Hera would not listen to reason, only force. Which was not her way. Surely the native population could be swayed to revolt. Surely if they could get down there and contact the resistance, the tide could be turned. Surely violence was not the answer.

Yet no answer save violence presented itself to the compassionate commander.

Watching the flight crew load load the torpedoes into the launcher hatch, Rita Paris was beginning to think that the plan to eliminate Hera's ability to make war might just be the only way to handle this crisis, this war she had declared on the galaxy. Diplomacy had been tried and failed- a vision of the harpies tearing apart the diplomatic envoy while the woman laughed mockingly flashed through her mind. The die had been cast, by a determined and angry goddess, and the desire for peaceful resolution was seemingly unrealistic.

"The greatest victory is that which requires no battle," Paris quoted to herself, but Sun Tzu had faced only armies of men, not an angry spiteful goddess with an army of mythological beings with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Studying the holographic global map projected from the comms unit on her left wrist, Paris waited for her away team, hoping one of them might have a better idea.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Asa Dael came entered the roundabout also clad in MACO armor, although theirs was white with a red cross and caduceus on the shoulders and back, the almost-universal symbol for a medic. They were carrying a med-bag slung over one shoulder, and had a phaser and medical tricorder on their hip. Hidden in the compartments of the armor were tissue knitters, a hypo and cartridges containing emergency meds, rope (which could be a tourniquet in a pinch), a spare universal translator, a PaDD, and throwing knives that were lined with a light sedative on some.

Their face was resolute. They had spent the day reviewing some gruesome data regarding what some of Hera's capabilities could do, and even seen the horrors Section 31 had visited on survivors of Hera's regime. They would not allow that to continue, from either side. No sentient being should be made to suffer, and they do everything possible to stop what they saw as a plague on the Galaxy.

It's just like my idiot father. One being with more power makes decisions for others, imposing their will and seeing themself as a god, and their supplicants always suffer. No more. The universe doesn't need gods. And we bloody well don't need Hera. Well, this Hera. Our USS Hera is good. they thought to themself.

Intermixed in the anger was fear...not of Hera, but of failure. This was the young doctors first away mission, and they feared letting down the crew. They were protective of the crew and refused to accept the possibility that any of them would perish. They were scared of what they would see, and what they would have to do to stop it. Nevertheless, only through fear could they show courage, and they wanted to show the courage others always told them they had.

"Good evening Ma'am, Doctor Asa Dael reporting for away mission," they greeted Rita, who offered a less than happy smile to the doctor in greeting.

The literally stone faced Ahreva Malana was right behind her in her own people's EVA suit since she was a civilian scientist assigned to the Hera. It was less bulky than the MACO suit, but it had thin armor plates styled similarly and painted blue and slate grey in a Federation pattern. On her belt she had a trio of different tricorders and on her back she had a rather unique looking sonic pulse rifle.

Giving a nod to Rita, she also reported in. "Federation Sciences Ahreva Malana, also reporting in, Ma'am."

Taking in the civilian scientist she'd never met, the armored astronaut extended a handshake in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Miss Malana. We appreciate you volunteering."

"If my people had emotions, I would consider it a pleasure," the woman replied, returning the handshake. "After the knowledge of Hera's powers includes turning people to stone reached me, I could do no less than volunteer, considering I evolved from granite."

The hatch opened and in walked senior chief petty officer Duran-Yeager Syal, she was wearing her armor minus the helmet which she carried in her left hand. her hair was tied back but her particular choice of hairstyle made it look like that she had shorn off all of her blonde locks. "Ma'am, senior chief petty officer Duran-Yeager Syal reporting for duty." she addressed Paris in a formal tone of voice.

When Sonak came in, all eyes were on him. He was not wearing the armor Rita had had made for him. He was wearing nothing but his standard uniform and a standard issue phaser and tricorder. The only discrepancy was his ahn woon inconspicuously worn as a decorative belt. Noticing without any surprise the stares of the others, he went straight to his wife, the away team commander. He did not wait for her obvious question.

"This planet is class M, requiring no special protection. More to the point, data has clearly shown that no amount of known protection can withstand the attacks of Hera's minions, let alone Hera herself. It's absence however, forces one to think on one's feet, as the human expression goes. With some ingenuity, my standard issue phaser and anh woon, which the enemy will both disdain, nevertheless will allow me to help my team mates effectively enough."

He looked straight into her eyes with his steely pupils as he spoke with calm resolution.

"More important than all that, one more warrior will not tip the balance. But just like heavy weaponry, armor signals a willingness to violence and significantly reduces the possibilities of peaceful resolution. Lacking military gear will show courage and conviction in our will for peace, especially in the classical view of this Hera being; something she has been known to admire in mortals."

The Vulcan straightened himself to attention.

"Lieutenant Commander, I volunteer myself to take the risk if there is even the smallest probability of getting through to her this way."

He could easily perceive her objections forming in her mind and intercepted them before she could voice them.

"The risk of loosing but one crewmember is definitively small compared to the possible benefit."

The message was clear; I am not your husband; I am but one specific asset in a mission where all tactical possibilities must be assessed and employed to succeed.

There was a moment of silence as the armed and armored adventurer considered the scientists words and choices. "I... have to admit, it is hard to come in peace when you are armed for war. But given what we know and what we've seen, I believe the Captain is right- in order to talk sense to her, we must remove her ability to make war, which means tactical strikes on our part. I've gone over and over it and I can't see any other way."

"I am not disputing orders, Lieutenant Commander; I am only volunteering an added alternative which will have no detrimental effect on the planned strategy."

"I respect your choice Lieutenant, and I won't order you to suit up," Paris nodded, then gestured broadly with her right hand as the holographic representation of Hera's World slowly rotated from her left wrist. "But this is a hostile war zone whose well armed denizens consider us enemy intruders. We can't negotiate with the locals from a fighter craft, and we can't sneak down to the planet short of riding down in stealth probes. I am open to suggestions, however."

Sonak pointed to the display.

"The local population are not our real opposition. We are not here to help this Hera entity exterminate them. A wide dispersal level 3 phaser beam, be it from the ship, the runabout or our hand weapons, will put them out of commission for a full standard hour and simplify the equation. In a similar fashion, just... slugging it out with her powerful minions will only deter us from the real objective; her power source. Doing it should be a diversion to allow a few of us to take control of it... or destroy it. Your stealth probe approach for the small sabotage team while the other comes more openly in this runabout would fit quite well with such a tactic."

As the two were talking the three tactical crewmen filed in and stowed their gear, getting ready for the mission as well.

Ahreva was also nodding along to the conversation. She could see both sides of it, but considering the hostility that had been shown so far, she was decidedly torn between her pacifism and her sense. "Both of you have compelling arguments. If the opportunity should arise, perhaps we can turn the locals against Hera's forces. Other than that, we have general orders to follow."

Sonak nodded to her.

"Negotiating with them would bring no benefit against the true adversary. They in all probability see us as part of her invasion and they are clearly powerless against her and meaningless to her. Once put out of commission, they will cease to be a threat to us and to be a priority target of Hera's minions. It should effectively divert them from attacking them as they concentrate on us, the only obvious threat left. We would thereby preserve the local population, at least for a while, and cause the intended diversion needed for our true mission to succeed."

He turned then back to the Hera's first officer.

"Something occurred to me while preparing for this away mission. Have we considered beaming the population away to isolated safer zones? If we neutralize them on the way, this would help protect them better from the entity's threat, again if only for a while."

"I don't think that's practical on a large scale, Mister Sonak. Besides, I wouldn't beam people without consent. I have strong opinions in that arena," Paris turned back to the display, which as she tapped a location the map zoomed in to report on the locale. "It seems we have three primary objectives. There is the forge, here on the edge of an active volcano. This is apparently the source of the 'chariot' starships. The facility is heavily shielded, but apparently the volcano is not. A few well-placed torpedoes should cause a catastrophe which should easily destroy the facility. Which is heavily guarded by said chariot patrols, unsurprisingly. So delivering a critical strike will be a challenge."

Duran-Yeager nodded. "We could beam a photon torpedo into the magma chamber, if it survives to detonation, even a minamum charge will cause an eruption which will at the least disable the forge and cause a major distraction." the small female knew she was being very polite regarding the matter, as she considered exactly what she was proposing.

"Last time I checked, torpedoes carry anti-matter, and you can't beam anti-matter." The anachronistic astronaut looked around at the nearly assembled landing party. "Wait, you can't, right? That's not something you can do in the future?" A silent shake of the head of the science officer confirmed that hypothesis. "But we can lay two of them strategically nearby and cause sufficient tectonic instability in the crust of the planet to cause an eruption." Which all sounds utterly barbaric, Paris added silently. But this was a mission briefing, not a platform for her feelings.

"The largest continent seems to be the domestication and farming centers, while the cities are in the southern regions. All supply lines this move through this mountainous region. Thus we can cut supply lines with a minimum application of force and loss of life." While she hadn't figured out a nonviolent solution Paris was still looking for a better way than just flat-out warfare.

"The final objective is here," Paris zoomed out then zoomed in again, this time on a sprawling metropolis of distinctly marbled Grecian appearance and design. "We believe this to be the capitol city, laid out below the mountain that holds Hera's temple and apparently a fortress within the mountain itself. Our objective is to cripple her armies, which are primarily concentrated here, as it doubles as the spaceport from which she sends them to the stars for conquest. Again, there will be strong aerial opposition, and short of bombing it to oblivion, this is far and away our most challenging objective."

"So, people. This is where we are, and this is what we're up against. And I am open to suggestions short of seeing if I can outfly every aircraft on the planet while we return Hera's declaration of war upon this world." There was a resignation in the commander's voice. She desperately wanted another way, and hoped her away team had some brilliant suggestions.

"Is there any way to produce the planet wide stun beam look like a side effect of us crashing?" Asa asked, seeing immediate disbelief on some of the parties faces, they continued, "I'm not suggesting we crash...I'm suggesting we make it look like we crash. Then when everyone is unconscious, slip into the hub of the supply lines. There is bound to be someone there who knows more than we do about the inner workings of the planet. As Hera is styling herself as a Goddess, this person will no doubt be dressed as some kind of priest. In my experience, once a priest has a crisis of belief, say from learning about all other life forms in the galaxy they didn't even know existed, they are highly likely to spill the beans on their former god. If that person isn't...there is always a second in command that hates their superior and is willing to share secrets just because the priest isn't."

The doctor shrugged slightly, not entirely confident in the success of the plan, but feeling strongly this would have the greatest chance to stop supply lines without a loss of life. "Once the supply lines are stopped, we can see if the locals will help take out the chariots while we continue to the Capitol. Workers are frequently mistreated and looking for a reason to turn things to their favor. I propose we give them that reason. If they are not willing, we will need to take out the chariots before continuing to the capital. Perhaps they can provide information on a less deadly way to do so," they concluded, hope on their face their words were heard.

"We could drive in an asteroid of appropriate size ahead of us, and that would most likely mask our approach and give us enough interference to do some low-altitude flying then stash the Thor and move in to engage the populace," Paris rubbed her chin as she considered the doctor's plan. "Catch a supply train incoming to the capital... time. Contacting the locals, earning their trust and swaying the hearts and minds takes time. I might be able to convince the captain to give us 48 hours- that might be enough time. Revolutions have happened faster, after all. And worship gives her strength, so this would definitely diminish her. Thoughts?"

"If we do this right, we only need to find the right heart and minds...the rest will follow. Spare an hour or two looking at them in action should tell us who we need, and who we can gain. Thank you for listening, I think 48 hours should do it, " Asa replied.

Duran-Yeager listened in silence, in truth she did not really have anything major to contribute so for now, she held her silence.

Sonak spoke with seriousness in his voice.

"If we divert an asteroid, it will undoubtedly be detected and alert the opposition. An effective decoy for the runabout approach but at the same time it will tell them we are here and attempting something. Moreover, calculation of the asteroid deviation will be complex; we divert one large enough and close enough to bring attention to it, but too close to the gravity well of the planet and it will crash and cause a mass extinction of all life on the planet."

"There are 347 planetoids and two asteroid belts in this system, Mr. Sonak. I feel we can secure one reasonably sized rock undetected. And we possess the capacity to precisely calculate the appropriate size and mass asteroid desired so that it will nearly all burn up during re-entry, thus avoiding the extinction level event, could we not?" Rita knew she was grasping at straws, but she really wanted an option other than wholesale destruction.

"Even crude scanning devices of four centuries back could effortlessly calculate and track the trajectory of a hundred times that number," Sonak reminded her. "It is most unlikely that the course change of one, especially towards their planet and one big enough to hide a runabout, would go unnoticed; especially now that they are aware that we tried to probe them already. We would not fall for such a simplistic trick; I think it dangerous to assume that they would. The worst tactical mistake is to underestimate the opponent."

The andorian engineer had been busy checking on the ship's systems as she listened to the vulcan and the human discuss the plan. She was wearing her own away gear something that may have once been MACO armour, but after several hundred alterations was truly one of a kind. " it shouldn't be hard for me to rig the engines to create a field so the asteroid would break up into small enough chunks for the planet to deal with. " She said calmly.

Again, Sonak objected.

"But mass would remain the same. Instead of one giant impact, you would have thousands of impacts on a wider area; unless you could fragment each and all of them small enough to have it all burn up in the atmosphere. That would certainly grab their attention and obfuscate their sensors for a short time; but it would also appear obviously unnatural and deliberate, alerting them to our active presence... unless again used as a decoy while we attempt something else somewhere else."

He turned again to Rita.

"If we want to approach and land with as little as possible chances of being detected, the easiest effective way is what we did initially with the probes; fly "into the sun" as Ensign McBain called it; in a straight line between the planet and the star and as fast as possible before the radiation and photonic cover moves to another angle. The speed and precision flying required would demand the best piloting skills available; but it could be done."

"If the science is solid, then sure, I'm in," Paris changed course fluidly. "I'm not married to piloting an asteroid. Are we in agreement to enter the southern trade route as it approaches the capitol? It gives us a chance to join a caravan to sneak into the city. Objections, alternate suggestions?"

"No ma'am," replied Doctor Dael.

"I can calculate for you the trajectory and time from the star's position to the targeted landing zone while maintaining sensor blindfold for the opposing force," Sonak proposed. "The asteroid displacement could still be used as a decoy to maximize our probability of success while coming in from a different direction."

"All right, then," Paris grinned, feeling the plan beginning to come together. They would adapt once they were on the ground, and figure out how to turn this around without wholesale slaughter. "We've got a stealth profile and a distraction, let's see if we can have the most crucial element- time."

Tapping the wrist comm unit, the away team leader called out, "Paris to Captain Telvan. We've got an idea, ma'am."

Enalia's voice came over the comm. "Telvan here, go ahead."

"Captain, we've figured out how to sneak onto the planet so we can connect with the locals and try to raise a grassroots uprising, as her worshipers are a source of her power. We need 48 hours- can we hold off on the attack until then?" Paris laid out the plan enthusiastically in front of the assembled away team.

There was silence on the line for a moment before the Captain replied. "Remember the Commodore I mentioned? She's done something like that and reported in. The next fleet to leave that planet is headed to Earth in less than two hours. You have your orders. Carry them out however you see fit but don't let that fleet leave the ground. Understood?"

Looking around at the assembled away team, Paris replied. "Can we contact the Commodore for coordinates, ma'am? Or do we have a last known location?"

"I'm forwarding her last known location and transponder code to you now," Enalia replied. "She mentioned something about the locals praying to Hera for salvation from their captors. That part wasn't too clear."

"It's a start. Thank you captain, we won't let you down!" Paris closed the channel, then looked around at the away team. "Load up, people- we've got two hours to make a revolution happen!"

Flying out of the sun on a calculated trajectory and timetable from the star's position to the targeted landing zone while maintaining sensor blindfold for the opposing force, the runabout Thor managed to sneak onto Hera’s Planet undetected. Some low-altitude maneuvering led the landing party to a cave system large enough to hide the runabout from detection, and the landing party were now hurriedly stripping off armor and weapons to adopt local garb, which was proving to be mildly comedic. Togas and sandals and simple rope belts were the local fashion, and the landing party were emerging from the runabout clad in replications of ancient Greek fashion.

Duran-Yeager had changed from her armor into something appropriate, she didn't seem to mind changing into something that she wouldn't be caught dead wearing she had the mission in mind as she focused on that, blending in with everyone else was an excellent way to do that.

Malana's new outfit made it obvious that she was both well endowed and an alien so she held her arms out from herself and pointed this fact out. "I do not believe my disguise is acting as a disguise should. It seems to exacerbate the fact that I'm not of this world in many ways."

Sonak for his part had several centuries of vulcan experience in obfuscating racial features to blend in with the average humanoid species. A single very ancient Grecian-style head bandanna effectively covered both the point of his ears and the exaggerated arch of his eyebrows. Meanwhile, a simple cosmetic coloring pill took care of the geenish tinge of his skin. At worst he would look like a member of a mongoloid human strain, and his physique was the exact living embodiment of classical Greek masculinity. Blending in would not be a problem with him unless he was thoroughly examined; like someone looking for his heartbeat and finding it where his liver should be.

He was quite comfortable and at ease in the outfit as it was rather reminiscent of the old classical vulcan attire he used to wear on the Gol plateau. He helped some of the others adjust to the peculiar arm wearing of the toga and how to walk effortlessly in sandals. Hearing Malana, he offered a suggestion.

"I would recommend a holographic disguise; or if unavailable, there are very effective Andorian disguise techniques. Despite their very striking appearance, Andorians have been renowned as the best covert operatives in the Alpha Quadrant for centuries."

"How about more clothes? If we wrap you up like a leper, no one will want to take too close a look?" Paris suggested.

Peeling out of the armor hadn't been that big a chore, and the replicator had plenty of options available. Rita had chosen a criss-crossing toga top that wrapped about her form, showcasing her assets but not exposing them. The garment drew in tight about her waist, then down to form a flowing multi-leveled skirt that showed a generous amount of leg and thigh when she moved. Testing it for a few steps, she made adjustments. On her feet were convincing looking wrapped sandals whose sole had an arch support and a cushioned insole.

If there was a machine that made just about anything handy, Rita's policy was to ask for what you wanted, not what you could get.

"Connor, Palmiotti, Bunche, you three stay with the runabout. Stay suited up and ready for trouble, stay in contact. Check in at an hour, half hour then 15 minutes before zero hour." The first officer tapped the gold antique starburst of her comm badge, which just looked like elegant jewelry in this get-up. Next to it hung a modern reproduction of her old clamshell communicator which, with it's black case, gold piping and gold mesh snap cover looked like another rather smart accessory. "You're our ticket out of here, and if we run out of time, you know what to do. Blow the volcano and destroy the staging ground. The mission timer's running in the cockpit- Bunche, you're on that duty. You two stay on patrol here, and don't wander from the ship. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," the trio offered somewhat in unison.

Malana replicated further wrappings and put them on, hoping the full coverings would somewhat disguise her as... some sort of servant or slave. "I have thus been mummified," she said, somewhat muffled.

"I know it's not ideal, but it's the best we've got. Also... since your outfit has some volume, grab a phaser or two and a tricorder, please, since you can keep them hidden away? Thank you, Miz Malana," As the scientist was a civilian, Rita couldn't order her, per se, despite it being an away mission. But she could ask, and she did.

"I already have my tricorders and I refuse to carry a phaser," replied Malana, shuffling closer to Rita in a subservient manner.

"If that's an issue for you, I can respect that, Miss Malana. As you were," Paris nodded. Nowhere to hide a phaser in this getup, but that just means I'll have to be clever.

Asa stepped out of the Thor looking mortified. They were not shy as such, but they had a bit of a mishap changing out of their armor and felt a bit awkward about going ass-over-teakettle when they got awkwardly tangled up in their toga.

The doctor wore what was traditionally a male toga that was intentionally running a bit large. They had secreted their knives on an improvised holster around their outer thighs. In a burlap bag they carried a phaser, tricorder, hypo, medicines, and emergency field rations. The belt around their waist was the appropriate gold tone for the local populace, but was sturdy enough to be used for rope in a pinch. The sandals they wore had thick straps around the ankles to help them climb if needed, and the doctor found themself thinking that it was nice to be in sandals again.

"Um, I figured go male since I'm obviously not a woman? I dunno. I never really know what to do in situations like this," they muttered to the ground. Remembering themself, the doctor walked around handing each crew member a canteen that looked fresh from an archaeology dig. "No need getting dehydrated, right?" they asked with forced cheerfulness.

Sonak nodded.

"Ancient Greece culture was, even for very rare exceptions like Sparta, notoriously quite misogynistic. In their language, "woman" was translated as 'kalonkakon' meaning 'beautiful curse.' In most city states, women were not even allowed out of their household. 'Going male' as you put it will allow you a lot more freedom of movement and action."

"Ahhh, misogyny," Paris mused with a sigh and a head shake. "Some things never change..."

Soon, Rita Paris would discover just how wrong she was.

After her last undercover assignment, Thex had been taking lessons. After using a spray on paint to hide her blue skin she had donned one of the short toga that would have been worn by household slaves. Her hair was done up to cover up her antenna which was aided by the pins and clips to hold it all in place. After donning her sandals She added two bracelets one of which had a holo projector to add another layer to cover her skin. Stepping into the main room the andorian gave her shipmates a grin. " How do I look?" She asked everyone.

The curvaceous commander offered polite applause. "Here's to our clever engineer, well done Ms. sh'Zoarhi!" Paris had a PaDD in her hand she'd produced from somewhere, and was tapping at a map of the capitol city onscreen. "Mister Sonak, do we have a fix on the transponder position? We're about four kilometers from the edge of the city, and it's a pretty large city. We need data to plot a course."

Duran-Yeager was wearing her own toga, in truth she felt very underdressed and she hated it but complaining about it was beneath her so she opted to simply let it go. "Very nice ma'am." she said to the Andorian engineer.

The vulcan looked at his small palm-sized tricorder which had been made at his request to look as a small folding wax tablet - including an actual wax coating on the back face and an actual bronze stylus - the kind used by intellectuals of Antiquity to teach others how to read and write or to make calculations in the era of burgeoning science. The actual circuitry could only be activated by his genetic code from his touch, which he now used to answer the exec's request.

"Transponder located, four point seven kilometers north-east of our current location. Estimated time of arrival at standard walking pace, twenty point five three standard minutes, taking into account the topography of the most direct route."

"Excellent, thank you Mr. Sonak. The clock's already ticking," Paris triangulated the transponder code to get a look at where they were headed in the city, made a few course adjustments, sent it to the science officer's tricorder then tossed the tablet at the nearest armored security officer. "Let's double-time it, people. At least until we're in sight of the city guards, to see if we can make up some time. And let's hope the Commodore has things set in motion for us, or this is liable to be our first and last costume party. Let's go!"

With that said, the first officer set out in the direction of the capitol city, those long legs put to advantage as she set a rapid pace with which any Starfleet personnel would be familiar and capable of maintaining, a double-speed marching pace.

As the group legged it towards the city, Asa decided it would be a good time to mention something that had been bubbling in their mind. "It occurs to me that for a religious based society, I may have a bit more experience than some of you. I was raised in what can only be called a cult, and I studied religion extensively during my deprogramming years on Bajor. When approaching religious officials, the head person, likely a man here, is going to be decked out in all kinds of fancy gold and whatnots. He is also likely going to be so self important and arrogant as to be unreachable for our purposes. People don't relinquish their own power easily or often."

Waiting for a nod of acknowledgement they were being heard, Asa continued, "However, their second in command is a prime target for our purposes. The second in command is either going to be so fed up with leadership, or so ambitious they want to take out the person lording over them, that they are open to the idea of revolution. It's likely this is who the previous team was already working to win over. This person will have almost as much adornment as the leader, but stand just behind them, or be on frequent errands for them. They will also be more likely to bark commands or other overt shows of authority as a means of proving themself to others than the actual leader. Those tend to have a lazy kind of arrogance, they know their orders will be obeyed, so they don't feel the need to make a show of it. Just food for thought, as it were, but this type of hierarchy has been seen in countless cultures," they concluded.

“Good to know, Doctor,” Paris responded, before drawing the landing party together to slow down to a marching pace as they approached the walled city. “Looks like we found a lesser-used gate… good work, Mister Sonak. It would appear we’re in luck, and there are just two Amazon guards, who would have thought? All right people, let’s stick together and hope for the best while we prepare for the worst. The clock is ticking, after all.”

With that said, Paris led the way toward the gate, a pleasant vapid smile on her face as she hoped for the best, knowing full well that good luck was not her stock in trade.

Duran-Yeager listened in silence as she walked beside her shipmates while she kept a discrete eye out for trouble.

The higher ranking Amazon raised a hand to hold up the group and addressed Rita since she was in the lead. "Hail sister! Praise Hera! We haven't seen anyone but local herbalists use this gate in a long time. What's your business here?"

“Hail to thee, sister,” Paris replied, realizing that her look didn't exactly match what she was about to say. Spreading her arms wide, the ancient astronaut lowered her head. “We are but humble pilgrims, come to see the great city and pay our respects at the high temple.”

The Amazon woman looked them over for several moments before shrugging and leaning back against the wall. "As long as you don't cause any problems and you keep your males under control, you can pass."

The other Amazon, obviously of lower rank, looked rather nervous. "Mira, you're going to get struck down if you keep this up..."

"Oh come on. What are these primitives going to do? Riot and force us to slaughter them like sheep again? Seriously Nala, lighten up." The one in charge was rather aggravated by the admonishment of her subordinate. "Safe travels ladies, and remember your prayers."

"Many thanks," Paris smiled genially, head bowed as she hustled the landing party through the gate and into the city.

Thex said nothing as the party moved away from the guards and into the city. Only when they were in a quiet spot with no one around did she speak up. " Well, that was unexpected." She said quietly. " Are you guys going to be okay?" She asked the members of the group who were dressed as men.

Duran-Yeager smiled as she continued beside the away team but then she was starting to assume that this was all a little too easy for her liking. She opted not to say anything unless it helped the mission.

"Our disguise has been successfully tested," Sonak observed out loud. "These guards are obviously sharp-eyed, but overconfident. This will facilitate our mission if we remain as careful as we have been so far. Our odds of success have improved."

He glanced briefly at his camouflaged tricorder.

"We are on course and on time."

"Excellent. Stay together and stay on course," Paris responded, eyeing the cityscape to try to determine their destination from the transponder coordinates. it seemed the local costumes were indeed doing the trick, and while she was getting sized up by a few locals, no one seemed hostile at least. "Miss sh'Zoarhi, please bring up the rear so you can insure no trouble befalls our non-female shipmates. Smartly, now!"

With that, the buxom blonde in the toga hustled in the direction of the transponder signal, the slender stern-faced male in the Grecian headband hot on her heels offering course corrections. The rest of the landing party kept close ranks as they closed on the structure from whence their contact the Commodore's signal emanated.

As they walked through the city outskirts, it was rather obvious that the women ruled and the men were treated as slave labor by the fact that women owned shops and hawked wares and were often well dressed while the men wore rags and often wore collars and a few times were seen being flogged by wealthy looking women in alleys. Roaming pairs of Amazons looked like they were meant to keep the peace but seemed disinterested in the day to day affairs of the populace except in the case of one male slave that seemed to mouth off to his owner - they summarily executed him on the spot.

Duran-Yeager watched as the male was murdered, this place reminded her much of her childhood, she wanted to go and try to help the male who had been murdered but she knew it would avail him nothing and only get herself killed in the process. She knew that this place was a powder keg with an antimatter warhead primed for detonation, all that was needed now was a simple spark.

Sonak lowered his gaze as he spoke with hushed tones to Rita, assuming the outwards signs of submission to better blend in with the observed behavior of the populace.

"Interesting; in Ancient Greece on Earth, only Sparta had women owning property and slaves or showing such freedom and authority; to the rest of Greece, this was what they imagined of a dystopia, born of their fear and disdain of women's will, character and spirit. The Hera entity obviously reshaped this society to her own whims. We should be cautious not to make assumptions and treat this as a first contact mission of a definitely alien culture only superficially resembling a Terran one."

“Agreed,” Paris muttered conspiratorially, at a volume that only sensitive Vulcan ears could hear. “I’m making no assumptions on this planet, trust me. When we get inside, see if you can narrow our search, Mr. Sonak”

All that aside, the semi-Grecian structures were easy to navigate and soon they had found the location of the signal - a multi-story scroll repository, if the signage was to be believed.

“All right, everyone inside,” Paris ordered. While a shop might or might not be the best place for the landing party to congregate, it was safer than on the streets with patrols. Once everyone was inside, Rita took a furtive glance around to insure they were not being followed nor that they had raised any suspicions, then ducked into the shop. The walls were crisscrossed with diagonal shelves filled with various parchments, quills, inks and kohl. Approaching the counter, Paris pulled out her most winning smile.

“Hello there…” Paris offered, wondering just how to surreptitiously ask the shopkeeper if they were harboring a feline admiral from another world. “I was wondering if you have any cat-themed scrolls…?”

The doctor quickly picked up on the comportment expected of male-presenting people and lowered their eyes in apparent supplication. They made sure to fall a few steps behind Rita and hunched over a bit as if from heavy labor.

Well, this place is prime for revolution, you can’t treat people like this and not expect revolution to flare up sooner than later, Asa thought.

“I am honored to witness you read, Mistress,” Asa spoke in a humble tone, “An honor that only women should ever possess, as it right in the eyes of Hera. We bask in the light of the holy mother, and in yours, her reflection.” The last sentence was said with a pointed glance at the non-women in the group as a way to hope to remind them of what was likely to be appropriate behavior. They knew if a “man” appeared to be reading that could make everything go wrong.

Getting the hint, Sonak approached Rita and offered her the tricorder camouflaged as a wax tablet to her as if anticipating her to want to inscribe something from the scroll she was considering, playing the part of a good, devoted servant carrying the possessions of his mistress; not anymore that of an educated male teacher as he had planned out of what was known of classical Greek culture.

They were not in Greece anymore; much less Kansas as the old Terran saying went.

Whatever you do, no eyerolling, Rita, the first officer thought to herself as she watched the less feminine members of the away team adopt roles which she personally found a bit cringe-worthy. But they were Starfleet officers on a mission, and they would do what it took. Soundlessly Rita took the disguised tricorder, which of course Sonak had already set to triangulate the transponder position. According to the signal, said transponder was apparently in the basement of the structure. Noting the position, the curvaceous commander absently handed the scroll back to the disguised science officer, then refocused on the shop clerk with that winning smile.

“Cat themes. Something genuinely unique, nothing seen hereabouts…” While she was good at many things, deception wasn’t one of Paris’ skills, nor was subterfuge. But desperate times, and the clock was ticking.

The shopkeep waggled her eyebrows at Rita. "Something along the lines of the Bast statues over here, perhaps?" She motioned to the semi-shrine to the cat goddess of feasting off to one side of the shop that seemed out of place in a city that worshiped Hera. "Since you all look a bit out of place and ask so blatantly at my humble herbal supply shop, am I to assume you're Starfolk?"

That smile turned a bit nervous as Rita took the calculated risk. Across the galaxy, trust had to be offered before it would be received. That much likely hadn’t changed since the last time she was in the field. Nodding her head, the supercentenarian space explorer agreed. “Yes, something very much like this. And no, we are definitely not from around here.” Please don’t be a trap please don’t be a trap please don’t be a trap Rita crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

As the XO spoke to the shopkeeper, Asa shifted slightly to be obscured from view and reached into the "pocket" of their toga, reaching for a hidden sedative laced knife and holding hidden in their garment, but ready to throw a moments notice. The doctor knew how to score a hit that wouldn't cause any real damage to the woman, but would make her groggy enough to not be a threat. They shifted back and off to the side of Rita, keeping their visage downcast as befitting a servant of no importance.

The woman nodded in a friendly manner as she spoke, holding up some fresh herbs as if trying to sell them. "If you're Starfolk just like the great Meowlith, then please feel free. She said friends might be looking for her. I'm glad she was right."

That brought a genuine smile to the Starfleet siren's face, and she nodded her thanks to the shopkeeper as she led the landing party downstairs.

In the basement, which was surprisingly much larger than the structure above, dozens of women were gathered about, some seated on benches or chairs, but most seated on the floor. All were gathered to hear the white-robed figure at the back of the room, whose hood was pulled back to reveal distinctly feline facial features. Exiting the stairs and entering the room, Paris waved in greeting.

“Commodore Farenia Meowlith, I presume? Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, of the USS Hera. I hope you have an amazing plan, because the clock is ticking, Commodore.” It wasn’t exactly her best entrance line, but it would have to do. Every minute that passed brought them all closer to annihilation, and any chance of succeeding on the ground lay with the clever commodore the landing party had finally located.

Pulling back the hood and removing the feline mask, the party was greeted by the face of a long-haired, smiling... Vulcan? She walked up to Rita and took her hand, forcing a handshake on the poor out of time commander. "Rita, Paris, I presume? It's a pleasure meeting you. I've heard about you from 'Nalia. Everyone, these are the friends, I told you about!"

"They're from the USS Hera! They're here to help liberate us from the false Hera!"

They're from the USS Hera! They're here to help liberate us from the false Hera!"

With Farenia's words, an excited murmur went through the room and excited whispers about the 'true Hera' and 'the time of reckoning'.

Duran-Yeager raised an eyebrow, clearly, the commotion had taken her by surprise.

"Please excuse them. Apparently, there are some prophecies about what's about to come." Farenia explained simply, expecting that to suffice.

“Prophecies? That’s great, really great. We’ve got an hour, Commodore. That’s all the Captain could give us, so if the time of reckoning is at hand, it has to happen very, very quickly,” Paris explained. She didn’t bother to mention what happened after that hour, because the Commodore was an espionage expert, and Paris rather suspected she knew what that countdown timer was leading to, and what would happen when time ran out. While she was a perennial optimist, Rita also had no desire to be buried in a magma flow on this planet because she spent too much time chit-chatting. “Tell me you have a brilliant plan in motion, Commodore.”

"We have a resistance movement and I assume you have a runabout and weapons. I say we put them to good use at the factories in about twenty minutes." Farenia grinned mischievously. She definitely had at least a bit of a plan.

Those blonde brows knit together and the pale skin flushed a hue of pink as Paris ground her teeth and spread her arms wide. “You see any weapons in this outfit? With all due respect, Commodore, we risked everything to sneak down here to make contact with you in the hopes of a resolution that did not involve blowing everything to hell. But that’s who we are now, right? We just fly in and demolish everything, that’s how Starfleet works in the modern day? Perfect. Just goddamned perfect. Why did I even bother to goddamn try. The future,” Paris’ jaw set, her face formed into an expression not unlike if she had just eaten a turd. “So what, we get back to the runabout and start the bombardment now, that’s the 'plan'?”

The Commodore turned deadly serious in a second, gripping Rita's arm painfully and dragging her to the side. When she spoke, her voice was harsh. "In the last attempt at a rebellion, seven thousand people were killed by only one hundred of her soldiers. Did you happen to see the statues outside? They're the converts. The people she turned to stone. She can supposedly see through their eyes and are there because of that rebellion as examples. Without our help, these people have no hope in a successful rebellion. We need to at least cause some chaos or distract the Amazons or something. On top of that, we can't let that fleet take off. As for the Prime Directive, it's already out the window with Hera's intervention. As far as Command is concerned, until she's no longer acting as a hostile invading force, we have to act accordingly. Understood?"

"I've commanded a fool's errand. I should have just followed orders," Paris muttered, shaking her head before one of the natives plucked at her robe. A woman, perhaps her own age.. well, physically... whose form was thin and eyes were haunted, but within those eyes could be seen the faintest glimmer of hope.

"You will help us fight, yes? We are willing to fight for our homes, our people, but we have no way to fight. Sticks and stones, axes and hammers do nothing to her terrible creatures." The young woman's gaze drifted off in memory, then she snapped back to swear a vow. "We would drive them from our lands if we had a way to fight back. The great Meowlith says that you will bring us weapons of myth that can harm these creatures... that you will give us a chance. All of us here... and more, believe me, we will carry the fight to our mistress on the mountaintop. We could be a free people again, if you help us."

Farenia spoke soft enough so few could hear her. "Lady Carmina. She lost her winery, her husband, and all six children in the last attempt. Her only daughter is now a statue at the temple."

Duran-Yeager's hearing was sharp and she quickly began to realize that her own losses were nothing compared to these people. "Ninety minutes is not enough time to plan and organize a rebellion. Even if we had the means onsite to make this idea work, it's still insane."

"Would it not be better to simply stun the planet as originally planned at this point?" the doctor inquired, their brows furrowed with the thought of bloodshed the current plan entailed, "Then we can fight off the remaining beings still awake if needed. Yes, it will reveal our location, but that will be apparent quickly with either plan."

"Stunning the planet would stun whomever is not her troops, and render them helpless in the pending battle, Doc. Not the best way to assist a rebellion," the calculating commander countered.

Thex would have been running her fingers through her hair if not for her elaborate outfit. "A pity we can't block her power and find a way of reversing her turning the people into stone." She said out loud, her mind going through a million different ideas.

Asa's face brightened slightly, "Well, if we know where she has the device needed to harness the psionic energy she receives from worship, then we could focus on destroying the devices, which would severely hamper her power. My research has concluded that she is using the energy derived from something as simple as saying her name the increase her power base. If we can stop the worship and eliminate the conversion devices, her power will be greatly reduced."

Sonak lifted an eyebrow when hearing again about the transmutation of people into stone statues and the apparent imperviousness of Hera's minions to weapons. He then turned to Rita.

"Lieutenant Commander? If I may, I have two options to offer; one tactical, one curative, both involving our transporters."

He waited for her attention before explaining, and with a pair of upraised brows and a gesture to proceed from the mission commander, he did so.

"On the tactical standpoint, the Hera can instantly transport up to 23 individuals per minute when using all personnel, cargo and emergency transporters; more if 2-man shuttle escape transporters would be added if needed. This would be enough to disrupt any regimental formation or remove two entire platoons of enemies every minute; either relocating them out of action or... subatomically dispersing them to oblivion. Whatever they are, they are made of matter or converted energy; both susceptible to our transporters. I think this could give us a definite advantage, especially if used at the proper moment with surprise in mind. At worse, the attempt would provide a distraction helpful to any attempt we might implement."

Turning, Sonak looked at the congregation around them.

"Or, we could use them to move a substantial group of denizens out of harm's way as we make our move. That would at least save a few lives while we commit ourselves to war."

The grey eyes of the logical Vulcan scientist returned back to lock with the mission commander's bright blue eyes.

"On a curative standpoint; transporter convert matter into energy then back to matter. With the genetic sequence of individuals related to some of the victims of the stone transmutation, we should be able to dematerialize those living statues then reintegrate them to their original organic status."

"While this is true, the Hera was under attack as soon as she entered the system, and she will not be able to lower her shields to engage the transporters. While your strategy is still sound for the runabout's transporters and this is a rebellion where we find ourselves forced to engage, I personally refuse to weaponize transporters," Paris responded. "While moving civilians is a possibility, I would prefer not to engage them thusly without someone remarkably skilled at the controls, and I do not suspect our security personnel are particularly amazing with site to site transport."

"As for curative measures, let's hope we have time to test that theory, Mister Sonak, because I would very much like to see if that could work," Paris ceded, genuinely hoping they would have the chance to test the theory when all the dust settled.

Sonak raised an eyebrow.

"May I remind the Exec, that in this century, there is no need to lower shields to use transporters. By matching the transporter frequency to that of the shields, you can use them unimpeded and remain fully protected. And if there is a risk of that specific frequency being detected and used to fire through, the now standard random remodulating of shield frequencies during combat will nullify this risk while being easily matched with our own transporters."

"I... did not know that," Paris admitted, feeling stupid yet again for discovering something that she took to be a fact from her own time, which was no longer so in this advanced future. "I'll pass along your recommendation when the opportunity presents itself. Captain Telvan likely has far fewer compunctions than I about the application of tactical advantage, assuming the Hera is close enough to assist."

"As for the rest, I've heard your perspectives, people, and I've made my decision. Simply put, these people have asked for our help. They want to free themselves from an alien oppressor who has shown nothing but contempt for their people and their planet. I would greatly prefer to do this without bloodshed, but clearly that's just not going to happen today. So we'll arm the locals- as the Commodore pointed out, the Prime Directive doesn't apply here. We have weapons that can effectively even the field for the populace, and they have specifically requested our aid. Starfleet doesn't turn away from a cry for help, so we're going to arm the resistance and join them in storming their objectives."

Unclipping the antiquated and bulky communicator from her waist, Paris flipped it open with practiced ease, tuned it then held it close to her face as she spoke. "Paris to Thor, do you copy?"

"Thor here Commander, go ahead," came the voice on the other end. "Was just about to call you for the one hour countdown check-in."

"Good to hear, Mr. Bunche," Paris was secretly relieved nothing had happened to the runabout, nor the security officers while they had been gone, otherwise this plan was going to get even more complicated than it already was. "I need you to shove our personal weapons and tactical gear into the transporters to beam them to my location. Additionally, I need for you to start emptying the Thor's armory and beaming them in to my location as well."

"Acknowledged, sir. I'll get started immediately," came the reply, and Paris snapped the antique communicator shut. Nodding, she offered the anachronistic device to the admiral, who had already been on the ground and knew the lay of the land.

"I suspect you already know where supplies will need to be routed to," Paris observed, "or would you prefer they just be beamed here for distribution, Commodore?"

Duran-Yeager stood and listened in silence, so far she was content to listen and to help with what needed doing.

The Commodore pulled out a PaDD and clicked it on, handing it over to Rita. "These are the locations of the main points we use for gathering weapons and supplies and exchanging information. Once we give the contacts and leaders of each cell here some basic training, we'll send them out with the signal and to train others and within twenty or thirty minutes, we'll have a revolution. If you could send a cache to each of them, that would be perfect."

Turning to the commodore, the doctor inquired, "Where are her main temples? Are there areas of the temples that only certain priests have access to? Perhaps priests that would know how to repair a device that has malfunctioned?"

Meowlith pointed over at a large, crude map on the wall of the city, which had several types of marks. "That has all the major landmarks in the city. The crossed circles are the temples. In the towers in them there are what appears to be energy distribution nodes that collect the psionic energy from the area and send it to the main temple. I've tried tampering with one, but it's well beyond my knowledge level."

As piles of bodysuits, hardshell carapace parts and weapons began materializing, Paris strategized. "So our ground-based objectives here are the factories, the chariot pads, the temples arranged about the city and the main temple itself. While I'm tempted to divide our forces, we need to be part of the push to the main temple itself, as that's where I expect the heaviest resistance. We can take a circuitous route to take out some of these transponder temples along the way."

"Agreed," Farenia replied, nodding solemnly. "Many of the remaining leaders are descended from the old city guard so thankfully have some combat training. Between that, your supplies, and sheer numbers, they can succeed. We just need to occupy the forces at the main temple so they can't respond easily to everywhere else."

"Making a scene is something of my specialty, ma'am. We'll draw their attention." The time-traveling tempest wished she was as certain as she sounded, but this was morale. This was giving these people belief and faith in themselves. As the next batch of armor and weapons beamed in, Rita began plucking out the distinctive gold plates of her armor, and fished the undersuit out of the pile. As she did so, she addressed the science officer. "As you're the one who doesn't need to suit up, can you educate the cel leaders here on how to operate the weaponry we'll be handing them, Mr. Sonak?"

"Acknowledged. It will take four point seven minutes to teach the first dozen, which in turn will each be able to teach a dozen if needed."

Thex had grabbed her undersuit and armour from the pile before pulling it on as well as talking a TR116 from the pile. Clipping on the eyepiece she began scanning the street outside. if anything was trying to sneak up on them she was going to spot it.

Asa felt a pit opening in their stomach as they began to comprehend what they would need to do to accomplish the objective. They extricated their gear from the pile and dressed quickly. Once there was a lull in the conversation, they spoke with as much confidence as possible, “I would volunteer to go to the temples with specialized priests. I have been studying Hera’s physiology from some….research I ran across, and I believe I know what to look for. If that is where you feel I am best used, of course.”

Having wrestled into her ebony bodysuit, Lieutenant Commander Paris unclipped her commbadge from the Grecian robe she'd been wearing, attaching it to the bodysuit so she could begin clapping on the golden pieces of her hardshell armor. "We're going to hit them on the way. In the next hour, I regret that there will likely be more than enough for you to do, Doctor, so I want you sticking with the landing party. We'll be happy to apply your research when possible, but it seems we'll have to fight to earn that ground."

"Understood, ma'am. I stand ready to serve." There was a fire in the doctors eyes that no one there had seen before. They hated bloodshed, but also understood there isn't always an option.

"One final suggestion- as we encourage the planet's population to take arms, do not say the revolution is starting. Those of you spreading word of the revolution should instead say 'The revolution is winning! We will surely conquer Hera this day, join us and bring forth a quick victory!' This will trigger a person's innate desire to be part of a winning team, and also makes them fear missing out on part of something important. If they do not feel certain of victory, or if they think there is plenty of time, they may be reticent to join."

With that, the doctor moved to the side of the room, clearly awaiting further orders. They had given the best knowledge to these people they had going in, and could only hope their psychological and sabotage tricks would be successful.

Duran-Yeager smiled as she began donning her armor, she was wearing almost nothing but she seemed to be very at ease with being almost nude as she quickly donned her armor before she selected her rifle from where it was resting, she pulled out the magazine, while she checked it. Then she rammed it back home again, she then slung of over her shoulder as the metal tabs on her back attracted the rifle to her chestpiice. She knew that this population was about to take massive losses in the process of this liberation. "One further thing." she commented. "Once this starts, expect our cover to be blown quickly, and expect heavy resistance. We do whatever it takes to end this in victory, for I fear we will not get a second chance. Be Bold, bloody and resolute for we have no choice but to win this battle. Trillions of people all over the galaxy are counting on us. Let's go make the enemy suffer for what they have done. both to the native populations and to our friends elsewhere."

"No!" Paris responded, standing up, armed and armored in her gold MACO EVA suit, with the improbable bulk of a TR-116C2 in her hand. "That's not why we're doing this."

As she spoke, the idealistic astronaut raised her voice so she would be heard. "Yes, this is a battle that's important on many fronts, and yes, it may be bloody. And we will have to be bold and resolute, that is true. But we're not fighting for revenge," Rita Paris paused to square off with the senior chief. "We're not here to inflict suffering. We've come to help these people liberate themselves from oppression. We're not fighting to make the enemy suffer. We're fighting for these people's independence."

Pointing to the assemblage gathered in the underground headquarters of the resistance movement, Paris turned to address them. "Fighting to inflict suffering is Hera's way, not Starfleet's way. Today we fight for liberation, for justice, for your people's freedom. Who's with me?"

A cheer arose from the women who would lead a rebellion against a goddess.

"Agreed, Lieutenant Commander," Sonak acknowledged sternly. "If we stoop to the barbaric level of our opponents, then not only are we proving that we are no better than they are, but it becomes illogical to oppose them since we become exactly what they are."

He turned to face the others with his steely grey eyes.

"If we abandon our values when they are being tested, then they are not values; they are mere hobbies."

Duran-Yeager paused as she checked her wrist gauntlet when suddenly the large blade concealed within popped into view for a moment. "Indeed, however if we could talk with these guys then I would prefer it. However, the time for talk has come and gone." she added.

The vulcan shook his head.

"On my planet, thousands of years ago, we almost destroyed ourselves thinking that exact same way. What we have learned and that which saved us is realizing, even after repeated failures, that the time to talk peace is never gone. I, for one, will not close myself to any chance, however slim and risky, for a peaceful resolution."

What proved his words no idle boast was that he among them was the only one unarmored and holding only a standard phaser in his hand and an ahn woon around his waist.

As the others spoke, Malana stripped off her disguise completely, leaving nothing but her skivvies before dragging her own EV suit out. It was definitely mismatched from the rest, but it was realistically all she had to wear that didn't look like rags. As she donned her suit, she clipped and sealed the sides, revealing that her endowments, that were nearly a match for Rita's or Maica's, were not soft or bouncy, but a lot more firm as they barely moved as she sealed up her suit. Part of having evolved from granite, perhaps. Slinging her sonic pulse rifle over her shoulder, she nodded readiness.

"Indeed, Mister Sonak. 'Per aspera, ad astra'- to the stars through difficulties. We'll continue to strive toward a peaceful resolution- after we've insured that we'll be heard," Paris commented as she downloaded the data from the Commodore's PaDD to the Thor through the comm unit in her armor's left forearm. Coordinating where to send weapons to arm the resistance cels, she frowned, Studying the data, the gold-clad commander glanced around the room, then made an announcement.

"Change of plan, people. While the locals can likely take the factory, as they will have an ever-increasing force of allies as they liberate them, the spaceport is of vital importance. If those chariots launch, they'll likely overwhelm the Hera then attack Earth, and we're here to insure that doesn't happen. Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi, take Lieutenant Sonak and Chief Yaeger to cripple that spaceport. We have less than an hour, and those ships cannot be allowed to launch. There are sufficient explosives onboard the Thor to crack the planet, so you have options- find a way."

"I would suggest to target the main tower's comm array to hamper enemy coordination," Sonak proposed. " As for the ships themselves I suggest the deflector dish of those chariots. Like comm arrays, they are complex systems impossible to armor, easily targeted and easily disabled before they have activated upon entering orbit; and without them, space travel is impossible. This will effectively ground them; and if we coordinate our strike well enough, it will provide effective surprise and minimal waste of time and loss of life."

Thex nodded as she finished donning the last of her armour. " A good plan Sonak maybe we could damage the engines to ground them completely. " She said testing her wrist mounted link to the Thor torpedo launcher. It was working just fine so she could mark targets from a distance. She picked up a belt of spare TR116 clips and handed one to the vulcan and the bajorian. " The clips with the red casing are the solid metal bullets. The one with the blue casing is firing a modified version of the standard TR116 stun clips. I have no guarantee they'll work though." She said honestly.

Sonak nodded to her.

"A correct assessment. Engines are usually well armored or have their own internal protective force field like ours do and are much larger and sturdier systems. They require a lot of damage to render inoperative; and a long time with mere portable weaponry... if even possible at all. Projectile weapons like those we have here would be next to useless and you need very precise energy discharges or powerful explosives directly in contact with the system's key elements to cause significant damage. Despite their folkloric name, these chariots will not be disabled by damaging a few pokes of one wheel. But, to continue on the colloquial imagery, if you blind the horse or the charioteer, even for an instant..."

He didn't have to finish describing what would happen to blinded vessels trying to lift off... or what would happen when it met unprotected the first micrometeorite.

“Sounds like you are already formulating your plans- good. You three be careful out there, radio in if you need backup, and… good luck,” Paris offered as she realized she was sending her best friend and the love of her life into danger. But that was the job- she trusted her fellow officers to be professionals and watch out for one another, regardless of her personal feelings.

As Rita Paris gripped the unfamiliar weight of the heavy rifle, she shifted the weapon to rest on her hip. It was time for a quote from an inspirational speech she’d heard once before, decades ago, that certainly seemed relevant today. “Remember- Starfleet is a promise. My life for yours, your life for mine, and nobody gets left behind."

"Let’s move out, people- we’ve got a revolution to win, and a tyrant to overthrow!”

As he adjusted the tungsten/rhenium garrote-mount hardpoints on his bracers, the Chief muttered a quiet voice command into his suit-mic, authorizing some background music to start at a low volume level, as he spoke up louder, addressing his crew.

{https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKhTk0IynHM}

"Awright, y'all. Lissen up," he drawled, while carefully loading thermic lances into his forearm storage.

"Ah've bin sus'pect'n foah a bit that this Hera gal has gotten herself sum bad intel, pointin' at us an' uhthuh so-cawld lessuh rayces as some sorta ill-begotten bahstu'ds frum this Zeeyews hoahndawg. At this poyn't, we're tuh opuhrayte on thuh assump'shun that she kin be reason'd-with." He activated a control on his gauntlet that popped-out barely-noticeable blades, which had an odd shimmery look to them, along the ouseeter edges of his forearms, then popped them back in with the same control.
"...but make noh m'stake. She eithuh tawks with us, owah she gets huh nethuh's kick'd until she tawks with us, owah she nevuh tawks again."

"Owuh jawb, then, is tah knock th'evuh-livin' hey'ul outta th'powah soahces that make huh light up, while acceptin' that huh minyunz may owah may nawt be az crazeh az she is. This means we do *NAWT* engage 'em if'n we kin evade 'em, an' if'n we can't, we'uh t'try ta 'void doin' perm'nunt hahm to 'em, in case she flips. We jus' may fin owahsel'vs wuhkin' 'longside 'em laytuh."

He made a funny, deliberate twisting motion with his right gauntlet, and it crackled with what looked to be high-voltage charge, then shut it off.

"When d'stroyin' bits'n'pieces uv 'quipment, yer all t'deep-scan 'em b'forehand. We'll have touch-raynge loc'l mesh netwuhk foah each uv'owah suits, with as high an' encryp'shun level as we p'sess. when y'see 'nuthuh team membuh, tag'em wheah'evuh y'can, t'sync up, so owah daytuh has a highuh' chance uv gettin' out an'back t'th'ship durin' ex-fihl."

The Intel-gineer looked around at his crew, as he finished loading the last of several racks of grenades of differing types. "Enneh qwes'shuns?"

The Baroness Schwein von Alcott, dressed in her blue and silver piratical war gear that marked her a member of the Artans rather than the MACO gear of the rest, waved a hand. "Ja. I do not think they will give us quarter so if they will not offer it to us, why should we offer it to them?" The Baroness wasn't too keen on holding back in combat - she'd seen far too many people die from hesitation. She was also one of the only ones aboard that had already faced Hera's minions and survived.

The bushy engineer half-bowed, and nodded in acknowledgement of the Baroness' obvious combat experience in general, and especially her specific experience with Hera's elite troops.

"Usualleh, yu'd be right as rayn, Barohn-ess. An' fuh shuh, we shud'n't give Lyootehn'nunts n' above a lotta slack- they know whut they signed up fuh. But fuh ground troops, gahds, an' wuhkuhs, best t'let 'em run, if'n we can, as long as theah not tryin' t'kill us. Most of 'em ain't ek'zacktleh willin' combaht'n'ts. Ennah r'bellyun in huh ranks'll be watchin' t'see if'n weah th'mohnstuhs Hera's told 'em we ah," he noted, as finished loading the last of the tungsten/rhenium-edged throwing daggers into his woven tungsten/rhenium bandolier. Thex had made good on her promise to integrate the substance into their gear as much as possible. He'd considered having her make him a tungsten/rhenium "straw" hat to go with his tungsten/rhenium string tie cum garrote.

Schwein nodded. She thought she caught most of that - his accent was hard for her to get through with her own Germanic accent but it sounded pretty close to her own pirate code. Kill the combatants and leave everyone else alone.

The tactical teams all seemed comfortable with their recently modified weaponry, even Chief Kader had to admired the intimacy of such a barbaric means to end someone's or something's life. Still, he'd do his part, with no joy if it came to it.

French looked at Alex with a bit of concern in her eyes. Alex returned the look that said go with the flow. As he tug his gloves on and adjusted his gear. That familiar look on his face told French all she needed to know. He was ready for whatever and funnily enough, that made French's confidence rise. This was the first mission she had been on since her last undercover mission two years earlier. As she strapped on her last power pack for her phaser rifle, she walked over to the tactical station on the shuttle, and tapped in a message to all the security personnel on this mission. It simply read, {Stay alive and keep your principals safe.} She walked back over to where Alex stood and gave him a nod that she was ready. "When we deploy, I'd like to be on point." she said loud enough for the team to hear her. Alex sounded off with, "...and I'll be right behind her." Giving his rubber stamp to the proceedings.

The 'red-shirts' all acknowledged the commands from the senior officers as Chief Kader singled them all to activate their tactical recording devices with a single motion of his hand.

As he finished up his tactical gear, and verified his sciences tricorder with the upgraded sensor pack and range boosters was fully-charged, the Mission Commander heard French's almost-giddy-sounding request, followed by a "me, too!" and paused.

"Ah want y'all t'unnerstand sumpin, heah. This mishun isn't sum sorta weekend getaway. It's sereyus, an' dang'rous, an' is lik'ley t'be deadleh to some of yuh. That some'll turn intuh lots moah, if we go in theah thinkin' weah just gonna stomp all ovah 'em an' win with owah Soo-PEER-E-yuh STAH-fleet Stuff," he laid out, gesturing to all the pretty playthings kitted out throughout the cabin.

"THIS. SHIT. IS. SEER-E-YUS. We don' watch out, we take things fer granted, we fuhget whut th'stakes ah, its ovuh. Y'all wanna spend ee-TER-nitteh as a pigeon stoop?? Oah a twisted THING, that ain't got a mouth, but has-ta scream??" He roared, a bit, reminiscent of the Intel Briefing, earlier. "TIGHT'N IT UP. Don't kill unless ya hafta, an' keep y'selves alive'n'useful!"

He went back to checking his armor seals and added, "Helm! Get owah asses down theah. Weah runnin' outta tahm."

The Baroness slid into the pilot's seat and readied the runabout for launch. "Almost mission time ladies!" On one of the upper monitors the time until the mission start time was counting down. As soon as it hit zero and she had the signal from the bridge, she hit the thrusters and launched out of the shuttle bay alongside the Thor, arcing around and heading towards the planet. Unlike the Thor, the Selune had some pretty amazing stealth plating so she knew they'd be safe. The Hera would still be distracting the Chariots just in case though. "ETA to strike zone, six minutes." Banking hard past an asteroid, the Baroness sent the Selune into a spin to mask their already minimized ion trail through the outer asteroid fields. "Hang on, ja?"

As he relied on his gravboots to lock him to the deck, Clemens added one thing via the direct comms.

"Remembuh- on th'way in, stun n'stealth unless ya ain't got no othuh choyce. An' once those gennies go, we gotta bulldoze owah way out." A pause.

"Les' go kick sum gawd-posin' ass, y'all."

Trying to figure out what to expect was anybody's guess, but as for being ready, they were as ready as they were going to get. Alex and French would work great together. French hoped that the rest of the team would as well!

Alex thought about Avender and her part in all of this. He hoped like hell she would come out the other side, but reasoning with a pissed off God might not be the best way to ensure your longevity. Whatever the case, he had to put on his mission face and could not worry about that right now. But if given the chance, he would see to it that Avender made it back, alive and well. Even if he had to sacrifice himself to do it.

Within minutes, the Baroness had set the runabout down at the mission start coordinates, parking in a nice clump of trees and bushes that no one was likely to go into. "We are here, ja? Time to do this." Checking to make sure her weapons were all clear, she nodded to Lieutenant Clemens, who had already made his way to the hatch, and was peering closely at the small viewscreen, which had a full-spectrum video feed of the area on wide-angle, with an multi-band overlay of passive backscatter and RF video feeds.

Once he had satisfied himself that the local area (including below-ground and atmospheric) was actually clear, he gave the ready signal, and unshipped the aft deployment bay door-ramp. He gave his baton a shake, and it extended out to lance-length.

"Yaw is raight, Bay-rohn'ehss-" he swiftly moved out into the night, calling back, with a wave of his arm to follow him, "YeHAW!"

French and Alex moved out just behind her. Weapons drawn and ready for combat. The team moved silently and quick. Looking for anything that could slow them from reaching their goal. So far so good. French just hoped the sword she had chosen which was very similar to the Samurai sword, would do the trick.

Alex took out his tricorder to scan for power sources. The readings were almost off the charts. They were closer than he thought possible this soon. He also knew the importance of finding those weapons and bringing some back for study. At this rate, running into the enemy would happen sooner rather than later.

The tactical crewmen filed in and covered the rear as the Baroness acted as overwatch. As the group medic, it was her job to make sure everyone either came back alive or didn't suffer if there was no saving them.

As for the way in, it was a sewer drain, but it was a surprisingly clean sewer drain. It was probably more of a storm drain than sewer. As the team made their way closer, it was evident that they were barred by only a simple steel gate which was easily bypassed. It wasn't even locked.

As the team entered the cavern system, after the infil experts did their job to clear the area of any traps or sensor devices (of which there were none- which was either worrisome, or encouraging, depending upon how one viewed the news), the Missourian considered what they knew thus far: they'd gotten here without a hitch, which either meant that they'd been incredibly lucky, incredibly skilled, or a combination of both. That, or they'd been expertly-baited into some sort of Doctor Evil style deathtrap, complete with Griffins with Phrickin' Phasers on their heads.

The power readings he was getting were strong, but considering who was getting the juice and what she was using it for, as easily as breathing, it made sense. He recalibrated his sensors to a different scale, to avoid being sensor-blinded by any sudden surges. The energy type was multi-phasic, as he'd suspected it would be, but it looked like the conduit and confinement mechanisms were using some sort of tesserine crystal matrix, with fractal properties as a kind of reinforcement, not unlike the hexagonal cell shapes of Earth honeybee structures used self-bracing techniques. Only the smallest fraction of the stuff was peeking into realspace locally- the rest wound through and past nearby subspace, like some sort of heat dissipation web for a cooling tower. This gave him an idea, as he realized that sheer brute force wasn't going to cut it on this job.

"Kaduh," he subvocalized into his throat mic. "Ah'm gonna feed ya sum readin's ah've taken uv th'conduit systems comin' up ahead. Ah've highlighted sum stuff fuh yuh. Ah want ya tuh calibrate yer ord'nance outputs tuh th'invuhse freqwenceh bahnds listed. Theah's also uh subspayce offseht ah wantya tah add to yuh phasuh emittuhs- it's in th'data dump. Set it up as uh sep'ruht profile on yuh wehpuns, so yuh kin switch back an' foahth."

As he switched off the pickup, he grinned in the darkness, and began humming an old song from his childhood...

{https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIAQ5X7W1Oc}

The luck the team was enjoying would be short lived after that point, however. The humming and shuffling of the team carried farther in the cavernous underbelly of the old volcano a little too well and soon they had enemies to deal with. Deadly enemies.

As they rounded one of the corners, what appeared to be a stone statue stood in their path. It barely registered on tactical sensors even when looking right at it other than as stone, but there was definitely something odd about it. It was obviously one of the things warned about in the tactical briefing.

A moment later one of the tactical crewmen in the back called out as he was grabbed from behind by something. Looking back, another of these stone men had him in a choke hold and was slowly squeezing the life out of him, the arm of the statue slowly tightening like a vice. After a few seconds, the man's helmet fractured from the force. These stone men moved slowly, but they were relentless.

Then came a pair of great roars from deeper in the darkness.

There were a pair of Minotaurs coming for them as well.

At the sound of the crewman's cry, Clemens barked out "They kin see in th'dahrk, y'all! Switch t'standard vision, an' d'ploy lightin' measures!" as he raced toward the call, tapping his armor's strength enhancement to full.

{https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml4wAnvfM4M}

Schwein focused on the statue at the front of the party, the lights on her helmet clicking on to light it up as she fired several rounds from her plasma lance into it with little effect. Meanwhile, the other two security crewman at the rear were futilely trying to free their comrade from the clutches of the one at the rear as it crushed him to death.

Grinning horribly, the stone toga clad figure gripped the man in one quick motion, causing blood to spray from the now broken body through the tears in the suit. Armor plates had been crushed like styrofoam.

That's when things got worse.

The minotaurs, spurred on by the smell of blood, had arrived.

With now two minotaurs and a marble man in front and a marble man in back, Schwein cocked back and kicked the marble man in the gut as hard as she could in the hopes of at least knocking it over. Thankfully it did, and the impact against the floor shattered it. "Knock it over and break it!" She then started firing into the chest of the first minotaur, which seemed to just piss it off as it snatched up one of the tactical crewmen and started beating him against a wall.

As the Intel Chief saw the crewman crushed, he continued onward, determined to avenge him, and reduce the thing's capacity to further damage the landing party. He activated his gravity boots, using the onboard thrusters, and went from his full run into a leap directly at the center of mass of the murderous mannequin, his right-hand McBainium Gauntlet extended in front of him like a lance, and, remembering the Baroness' shouted intel, slammed into and through the thing like he was cutting a rough diamond. As the pieces fell away, he tucked into a roll and let the thrusters decelerate him on the other side, with a twist, to face the field of combat, shouting, "Daniels, Hasselhoff! foahm up on me, wedge foahmashum TAC-DEHLTAH!"

The two crewmen who'd just watched their friend die horribly honored him admirably by snapping to, and flanking the Chief on either side as a united front toward the battlefield.

French had taken it all in, and this shit show was only going to get worse. She immediately went low to attack the minotaur's legs, whilst Alex took to the sky, jumping with the help of the suit and aiming directly at the back of the head of the horned beast. The two-pronged attack was somewhat successful, causing a slight stumble, but the thing just would not go down.

As the minotaur regained its composure, Alex managed to land mere feet from it with its naked back open for a clean attack at what had to be the spinal column of the monster. Alex swung with every bit of strength he could muster. The effect was not what he had hoped for, but he'd take it. A sizable gash appeared across its torso, ichor spraying outward, though it didn't seem to penetrate into the interior, due to the slashing motion. Regardless, the sound the beast made was deafening, to say the least. The mythical-made-real man-bull spun 'round on the irritant behind him, making grazing contact, which was still enough to send Alex sprawling on the floor with the air knocked out of him.

As the monster grinned ferally, looming over Alex, French did a running flip, landing directly beside it in a flanking maneuver, and drove her Thex-crafted blade directly into the ear of the beast, and through its brain, the blade jutting out through the other temple. The behemoth fell suddenly silent, not making another sound, nor moving. There was an eerie momentary silence, as it fell to the right, away from French, like a redwood cut by a phaser saw. So unnerving was the sight, that French was caught unawares, as the second bovine bastard made its approach, charging head down, horns raking upward in an enraged attempt to gore her.

Because French's stance was rotated, due to the dual-handed blow she'd given, her profile had suddenly become more narrow. This likely saved her life, as the enormous horns, instead of ripping her armor open, instead caught her like a forklift, launching her high into the air over her fallen opponent. When she finally made contact with the cave floor, there was a sickening CRUNCH, as she flipped end over end from the sheer momentum, finally coming to a rest almost out of combat range, and very still.

But somehow the armor had done its job. She opened her eyes and moved slowly to her feet. In the floodbeams of her suit, she could see that the second one had turned his attention to the rest of the group, thinking she was done.

The Baroness was about done with these stone men and these minotaurs in this subterranean area. She pulled out her own short swords and went to work on the second minotaur as well, trying to at least keep it distracted enough with her augmented strength long enough for those with a TR-116C to put enough of those new rounds into it to put it down for good.

As the Piratical Purveyor of Pain and Pleasure whirled around the slow, angry beast, showing it what the Death of a Thousand Beestings felt like, Chief Clemens used comms to round up the rest of the team in a circle around the dance floor. Once it was clear that Minosian menace was faltering, and about to lose interest in the dance, the sign was given, and the surviving members laid in with hot rhenium, and it was mercifully put down.

As the Patched Panacea worked her rough love on the team, and the fallen were properly handled, their Intel Chief and one of Kader's men did some combo recon, with Clemens confirming his earlier readings and Daniels keeping lookout.

"Mahk...covuh me... theah's sumpin' up heah that's lookin' a whole lot like uh junkshun," the steely-eyed rocket man said, as he climbed a small ledge, and peeked over.

The sight that greeted him was a welcome one. As his tricorder-fed HUD started giving him readings, his bushy brows shot up in unison. He scrambled back down the rise, and commed the team.

"Y'all ain't gonna buhleeve whut ah jus' found."

SHORTLY, BACK AT THE BATTLEFIELD SITE

The holoprojection of the next big chamber had been notated in several areas, especially on the upper wall on the right side, where a thin crack in the basalt was highlighted.

"This," the engineer pointed out. "...it's recn't. Th'breakdown's piled up, an' bright, down theah."

He zoomed in, and activated some enhancements. A golden, scintillating glow appeared, spilling through the gap.

"This stuff matches th'readin's Commandah Spock r'corded durin' th'whole Apollo incident. There musta been some sorta minuh seismic event that crack'd th'rock, an' th'shieldin' with it."

He grinned, now. "This is owah tap point. We don't hafta go nearly as fah as we thought we'd planned."

A message came through the comms, updating the mission. Have reached main temple, converge as you are able, bring the Thor. No resistance encountered thus far. Pressing on to temple now. ~LTCDR Paris

A Few Minutes Later

After some discussion on the whether or not to blow the system, rather than disabling it and locking it, the better part of valor won out, and the subspace amplifiers were installed all along the crack, and sealed over, to shape the output of the subspace emissions.

The theory was, when triggered, the subspace vibrations would be directed into the pipeline, and would then make their way not only up the channel to the generators, but also pervade throughout the entire set of subspace manifolds used to construct the pipeline network in otherspace, where the bulk of the structural integrity of the system was reinforced. The crest of the diametrically-opposed wave would build as it ran through the almost-organic pathways of the distribution nodes, until it crashed against the standing wave of the psionic generators, in something similar to a matter/antimatter reaction, which would then back-feed through the entire network, burning itself out as it shattered every piece of connected equipment in the chain, all the way to the wireless emitters in Hera's palace.

As fast as the energy itself could travel, the peculiar nature of waveguide speeds would propagate the shattering effect it many thousands of times faster.

In the temple now. Those generators better blow very soon, Sam, or your favorite first officer and ship’s surgeon are liable to suffer a fate worse than death.

Sam chuckled to himself, glad that none of his people were on the receiving end of the system. He pointed his Sonic Actuator at the rig. "Awright! Ah we reddeh t'have us a hawt n'tasty grill'd Hera?"

A cheer went up from the team, as the SpyMaster pressed the button, and an odd warbling filled the air, and the golden glow faded to purple.

In the distance, the sound of thunder wasn't delicate at all.

Ascending the stairs from the cellar where the resistance movement had been meeting, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris took the lead, followed by Doctor Dael and Ahreva Malana. As the stone-faced scientist was a civilian non-combatant, Paris wanted her bringing up the rear. While she would likely have her moment in this drama, Rita wasn’t about to endanger her charge unduly. Both she and the doctor were Starfleet- they had signed on for this.

“Ms. Malana, stay close. I’ll need you watching our rear and keeping up as best you can. Doctor, stay close to me, stay in my shadow when at all possible. Neither of you are soldiers and I don’t expect you to be, but be prepared to defend yourselves.” Deep down, the Starfleet officer of another age wished she was as confident as she felt. She herself was no soldier, and she’d fought as hard as she could to find a peaceful resolution for this mission. But in the end, she would have to content herself with taking point in a rebellion, fighting their way across the city to the temple of Hera.

Now was not the time for doubt, nor recrimination, nor regret. Now was the time for action.

Peeking out into the street, Paris spotted a pair of Amazonian guards harassing a fruit stand seller. Slinging the large and unwieldy rifle across her back, Paris drew her antiquated phaser and stepped out into the street. Setting for heavy stun, she brought the phaser up, sighted, then fired twice in rapid succession.

The first one went down like a sack of potatoes, but the second caught the blast on an armor plate and it dispersed it enough to leave her only slightly dazed. She was quick to recover though and with a great yell, pulled free a swortsword and charged the group, one bracer shield up and active to defend herself from another shot.

Malana was just as fast, having targeted the Amazon with her sonic pulse rifle and fired as soon as she had started charging. The pulse of invisible energy seemed to pick up the woman and toss her aside like a ragdoll, straight into the building behind her. Bouncing off of it, the Amazon fell to the ground and moved around in a stupor for a few seconds before she was shot by another phaser beam. causing her to pass out. "Your shadow is safe, Commander. As for the Amazons, aim for the unexposed areas and watch for the bracer shields."

"Duly noted. Well done, Miss Malana," Paris appreciated as she unlimbered the rifle to hold in her off hand. if she could help it, she'd stick to the nonlethal phaser- but the chronal cosmonaut suspected that the danger was only going to increase as they moved forward. "Okay, stay close and let's cover some ground. Being fast-moving will make it harder for them to bring forces to bear on us, and we can't afford to get bogged down in a street fight. Doc," Paris passed back the PaDD that she had received from Commodore Meowlith, which detailed the shrines and details of the city up to the temple.

"You're the navigator, Doc. Guide us to those transponder temples that we can hit on our way to the main temple, okay?" Secretly Paris hoped it might keep the young doctor preoccupied, as this was their first mission, and it was an unfair cosmos that sent the sensitive healer into a war zone. But there was little to do for it now but try to keep the good doctor from getting shot, and perhaps being preoccupied with navigation might spare them some of the violence that was likely to ensue.

Asa’s eyes were as huge as saucers. They knew combat would be part of Starfleet eventually, but they had not expected it within their first fortnight aboard a starship. The young officer took a deep breath and forced their shoulders down, eyes forward in a cast of determination.

Looking at the PaDD, Asa pointed slightly to the left “Ahead, 317 meters to the first temple. Up this small hill.” With that declaration, the doctor fell in lock step with the XO, thankful for their manic energy to power the quick pace the taller person was setting.

Light, when Paris gets going, she really gets going , the El-Aurian physician thought to themselves.

As they approached the temple, the trio saw Amazons milling about keeping guard as older priestesses were seen deep in the temple interior. There was one side of the temple hidden in the shadow of a larger hill looming to the right side that appeared unguarded.

“Ma’am, I believe the shaded side of the temple is our best hope to avoid detection. While this place is guarded, they don’t feel overly alert. More like an honor guard for somewhere that is assumed to be so sacred as to avoid attack. Just an impression…..but their body language doesn’t seem that alert,” the doctor said, briefly making eye contact with the Lieutenant Commander.

"I concur," Malana added, scanning the surrounding area. "It seems word of the revolution hasn't gotten to them yet, either. That works to our advantage. If the psi-collector is in the tower, I believe I can destroy it from here, but it risks the chance of killing someone. If we assault the temple, it risks the chance of our own deaths. Sneaking in seems minimally optimal as there is no way to get back out alive afterwards. Alternatively, we leave. Which price will be paid, Commander?"

Training told Rita Paris the ideal solution would be to draw their fire as the other two flanked the temple. But with two non-coms- despite that sonic weapon of the stone scientist- that wasn’t an option. Or was it? They were not a known commodity just yet, so the Amazon guards might not yet be alerted to just who they were and why they were here. Slinging the heavy rifle across her back, Paris took a deep breath, shutting her eyes briefly to center herself. Opening them again, a devil-may-care grin spread across her face. “Let's give them a chance. Miss Malana, please cover me.”

With that, the gold-clad commander stepped out into the street and began casually strolling toward the temple. As the Amazons noticed her, Paris waved cheerfully with her empty left hand. “Hail sisters! What news of the day?”

Between her odd appearance and the fact that they were reasonably certain she shouldn’t be there, the two guards exchanged glances. Which was when Paris shot the first guard, dropping to one knee to diminish her profile as she drew a bead on the second Amazon, who was now drawing her blade and charging with her energy shield engaged.

At least they’re consistent, Paris thought as she fired again, trying to hit the Amazon in the thigh.

While the second blast glanced off the edge of the ovaloid shield, several more sounds could be heard simultaneously.

Malana firing her sonic pulse rifle just over Rita's head.

Two harpies screeching.

A minotaur bellowing from inside the temple.

While the sonic pulse threw the second amazon like it did the last one, a pair of harpies took off from the roof of the building and two more Amazons and a minotaur stepped out of the front door of the temple, each ready for combat.

With a grunt of frustration, Asa took off through the shadowed undergrowth, about 30 degrees off from where Rita was from the perspective of the door of the temple. They reached down as they ran and picked up a small rock, tossing it towards one of the Amazons shields, attempting to see if projectiles could penetrate the shields, or if they were impervious to energy and ballistic energy.

Once they were stopped and hidden, the doctor withdrew two small throwing knives, aimed carefully at the Harpies as if they were birds being hunted back home, and expertly attacked both. One sedative coated blade cut deeply into a leg of the first harpy before sailing off unseen, and the other embedded itself in the second harpies abdomen. They then took aim at one of the columns supporting the entrance to the temple and began firing with maximum strength on their phaser.

“That’s what you get for trying to be a white hat, Rita,” Paris muttered to herself as she scrambled for cover. Holstering her phaser, she unlimbered the rifle that she’d hoped to use as a last resort, yet here she was, the second battle of the day, resorting to lethal force.

Visions of the diplomatic delegation being torn to pieces by the harpies steeled her resolve, as she pointed the TR-116C2 at the sky, set the range and fired the grenade launcher. “Move, people! Let’s go go go!”

The grenade missed the now sedated harpies and landed square between the two new Amazons, blasting them clear across the plateía in opposite directions, taking them both out of the fight.

As for the minotaur, Malana aimed her sonic pulse rifle at it and fired, pissing it off. As it charged her, she flipped a selector switch and fired a constant stream at the beast, slowing it to a halt just a few meters in front of her. It bellowed at her as it leaned in, trying to reach for her, the screeching from her weapon rising slowly as it seemed to start to overheat.

"Drop it, Malana!" the doctor yelled, running again to not give away their position, "Those things are nigh unkillable without a special weapon...lets pin it under some rubble, eh?"

This is it, Paris thought to herself. The briefing had made it abundantly clear just how deadly and impervious these things were. Thex had modified their weapons, programming them to produce alloy-jacketed projectiles that could penetrate their hides, and could kill them. This minotaur in particular was going to kill them all, right here, right now. Phasers didn't work on them, so there was no stun option. It was down to kill or be killed. And there were plenty more where this one came from.

While the Minotaur looked no worse for wear other than some blood from its ears, Malana had to agree with the doctor, she couldn't subdue it with her rifle. Releasing the trigger and lowering it, she jumped back as fast as she could, but not fast enough. The minotaur caught her by the leg and hulk smashed her straight into a stone wall, her rifle spinning through the air uselessly and landing some ways away.

After looking satisfied with its handiwork, the beast roared and turned to look for more targets.

As it did so, Malana wiggled a bit, working to extricate herself from the granite masonry. Rolling out of it, she stretched a bit, several of the now shattered armor plates on her suit crumbling away in the process and her helmet's visor falling off as well. Malana herself looked no worse off, though. "So even the mightiest beings of flesh are that weak? Come back and hit me like a mountain!"

The Minotaur was silent for a moment, head cocked at the challenge. It then turned and looked incredulously at the woman still standing before it.

That was when the mighty beast of myth and legend grunted and stepped toward her, nostrils flaring as a loud crack was heard, and he stiffened. Turning toward the source of his irritation, the minotaur spied the sniper who had shot him standing in the street, advancing on him.

"Stand down or I will shoot you ag-" Rita Paris managed before the beast ran for her, at which point she held her ground and fired twice more into the chest of angry behemoth. Which roared in pain, but kept coming, closing the distance between them with alarming speed.

"Auto," the Starfleet soldier ordered, then a burst of fire from the weapon slammed into the rampaging bovine humanoid. Dead before he hit the ground, his momentum carried him forward to slide to his finish in the street.

"Let's blow this tower and move, people!" Paris called as she chucked the underlauncher, selecting the low yield plasma grenade. Firing it into the inner chamber of the shrine, Paris called out. "Fire in the hole!"

Asa dropped to the ground in anticipation of the blast, anxious to check on Malana. Everything about this was terrifying, but more than anything, the doctor was concerned about the well-being of the formidable woman who just took quite a beating.

As they dropped, Doctor Dael scanned for the Harpies and Amazons, not seeing them amongst the carnage until one of the warriors appeared near them. The doctor grabbed their phaser and fired instinctively, forgetting the setting was no longer on stun, but on kill from firing at the column. The doctor caught the Amazon by the lower left leg, but location didn't matter at that point. The advancing warrior dropped to the ground, dead.

Asa saw the distinctive scorch mark on their target and felt dread and knowing what they had done. With a brief cry, the physician wretched up their last meal, feeling disgusted at having taken a life. They rolled to the side of where they were sick, and waited for the blast to come, numbness setting in for the carnage they had seen and inflicted.

As the shrine exploded in a 'FZWOOOOM' of cascading plasma energy, Paris took stock of the situation and doubled back. Spotting the young doctor, the first officer saw the look on their face, saw the dead Amazon and put the pieces together. Unfortunately, neither of them had time for a crisis of conscience. Grabbing the neck of the white plate of hard polymer armor, Rita yanked the physician onto their feet with a grunt. Setting them on their own, the ancient astronaut spun the young immortal so they could be eye to eye.

"Listen... I need you to listen to me, Doctor. We're in a war zone now, and as much as neither of us wants to be here..." To her right, another Amazon charged, with a bloodcurdling war cry. Without hesitating, Rita Paris fired, pumping a mythic round through the berserker. The charged alloy round easily passed through her breastplate armor to drop the warrior woman, the impact spinning her about before her corpse fell to the cobblestone street. Turning back to the ship's surgeon with tears in her eyes, Paris locked eyes once more.

"We have to move, Asa, please." In the time they had known one another, the El-Aurian physician realized that the only person they had ever heard the first officer address by their first name was Sonak. "If you want to live, come with me."

Looking around, the golden avenger spotted Ahreva Malana picking up her sonic rifle. "Miss Malana, we've worn out our welcome, let's go!"

Asa took a deep breath, awareness coming back into their eyes as the first officer called them by name. They let a few errant tears leak from their face, made eye contact with Rita and said, "Yes ma'am. Freak out later, got it."

With that, they reached into their bag where they had left the PaDD and pointed to their far right. "Next target, 1208 meters. I suggest we run."

Shaking the debris and loose bits of her suit from her, Malana checked her rifle and readied it. This was far more violent than she had anticipated.

Double-timing it, staying to back alleys and using the map of the city was producing reasonable results. The two officers in MACO armor could run at a considerable pace. But that would have left behind the civilian scientist, which was unacceptable. So they moved at her pace, keeping her safe with their numbers and navigation. Using the suit's scanners, they were able to coordinate around patrols and stay well ahead of their pursuers.

Score one for modern technology. Back in the old days this would have gone on until Paris peeked around a corner and she literally came face to face with an amazonian guard. But with the advanced capabilities of a tricorder with head's up displays, this made moving tactically through the city a breeze when combined with Paris' own instincts and experience.

Until a harpy patrol spotted them, and there just wasn't any way to stay under cover while evading them forever. A flash-bang grenade threw them off the trail long enough for the trio to seek cover, but they were still 120 meters from the next psionic collection shrine.

"If I fire that will definitely give away our position, so we'll have to move quickly. Doctor, you have our route to the shrine ready, and Miss Malana, if you could lend a hand with our feathered friends please?"

"On three we fire then move. One... two... three." Calmly Paris stepped out from under the cover, sighted her rifle, locked on target and fired. The legendary menace moved at the last instant, and the shot took her though the wing, shattering the bone and dropping her from the sky with a shriek.

Ahreva fired a sonic burst at the other harpy, knocking it out immediately and flinging it onto a nearby rooftop where it lay still.

At this point the sounds of revolution could be heard not far off, coupled with several large muffled explosions.

The doctor had largely been trying to stay alive and out of the way, knowing they were not here due to their physical prowess, but it occurred to them they had one advantage the rest of their team didn’t. The enhancements of the MACO suit combined with their natural strength from growing up jumping and climbing trees gave the young doctor the ability to leap to the third story of a building in a single jump.

Not wanting to give away the position of the team, they called “Hold on, getting a quick visual,” and sprinted to the nearby street. Oriented towards the temple, they leapt onto what appeared to be balcony on one building, and then up and over to a rooftop on the building opposite. They crouched down and ran to get a good view of the temple.

It appeared to have the same setup with Amazon guards at the front, and what was likely to be a minotaur-guarded interior. Deciding to bring an element of surprise, the doctor aimed at what appeared to be a power structure on the roof of the building, directly over the top of the temple.

They fired at the power source at maximum strength on their phaser, maintaining the beam until crystal-like glass exploded in a violent maelstrom that took out the roof of the temple and barraged the Amazons below with debris and energy shards alike, piercing their shields in places and leaving a patch of carnage on the landscape.

The doctor rolled off the rooftop and managed to make it back to the street holding their shipmates undetected. Sensing their apprehension at having the Doc go absent for a moment, followed by a loud explosion, Asa just shrugged and said, “Figured it would be nice to get the drop on them this time.”

Taking in the young doctor’s actions, the conventionally cheerful commander grinned crookedly. She’d been mildly panicked over the young doctor’s sudden movement, but her helmet’s sensors had tracked the physician and when they had come back in one piece, Paris was greatly relieved. “Well, I guess we don’t need to hit this shrine. Well played, Doctor… plot us a course to our next target and let’s keep moving.”

As the sensors detected another patrol incoming, Paris crouched low, then popped around the corner just long enough to launch two tear gas grenades into the path of the patrol, one after the other. Then the Starfleet siren was on her feet and moving at high speed, navigating the twisting and winding back alleys in her attempt to keep the trio out of conflict as they continued moving toward their mission objective- the main temple of Hera itself. On the route they were taking, there were at least three more shrines on the way, and each one they destroyed would only help them that much more in the long run.

Which was when a Harpy patrol dove into the city on a powerdive, surprising the first officer by snatching her up in the creature’s claws like a hawk snatching up a field mouse. Before she knew it Paris was airborne, and in too close a quarters to bring her rifle to bear. As her antiquated phaser was holstered on her right side, Rita could choose to drop the rifle to reach the phaser, or find another way to deal with this flapping menace as it dug its claws into her shoulder, penetrating her armor on the left shoulder, causing the anachronistic astronaut to cry out in pain as thee harpy hauled her ever higher into the sky.

Asa Dael tossed the PaDD to Ahreva Malana and said “Keep to cover, but keep going towards the next target. If I don’t make it back, toss a grenade or something in the thing until it falls. I’m right behind you!”

Catching the PaDD, Ahreva just shook her head and hurried on. It wasn't like she had any explosives on her. They were the ones that had them. Still, she had other ways of destroying things. Adjusting her sonic pulse rifle, she re-tuned it to disable electronics. She just hoped the systems of Hera's forces were susceptible to it.

With that, the doctor was using all the extra strength the armor had to offer and leaping up the side of buildings to get to a high rooftop nearby. Once there, the doctor grabbed the rope and grappling hook from the back of their armor and threw it as hard as possible into the flesh of the nearby harpy. Using the enhanced strength of the armor, Asa tied the rope to a nearby support column on the building, and threw three sedative-laced small knives into the Harpy as well.

The doctor yelled at Rita, “Hit it in the head! Get free before that thing falls asleep and lands on you!” as they maneuvered the Harpy closer to the building they were on, angling so Rita could land on top of the roof with Asa.

Grasping the harpy’s chicken-footed claw with one hand, Paris grunted as she swung one foot up to connect with the breast of the bird woman. While she was no mistress of unarmed combat, Rita was still flexible and strong, and with the augmented strength of the armor, her kicks packed considerable power, even at the apex of their arc. As the harpy did not relinquish her grip, the first officer lashed out again and again, kicking at the creature even as it’s claws penetrated her shoulder deeper. The lovely lieutenant cried out as she struggled, until her assailant finally could no longer resist the toxins in its bloodstream and drifted closer to the rooftop. A punch to the knee joint of the creature of myth did the trick, and the harpy dropped the golden armored astronaut to gravity's tender mercy.

Rolling with the impact of the landing, Paris came up onto one knee, then rose, her left arm not particularly excited about operating even as the yellow gold of her armor was stained by a bit of crimson at the left shoulder, while it appeared the right shoulder of the armor had protected her from the creature’s claws.

“Ow…” Paris remarked, checking her HUD to track where Malana might have gotten off to. “Thanks for the save, Doc. Come on, let’s get off this rooftop and find some cover before her sisters and cousins show up.” With that, Paris stepped off the side of the building, sliding down the side with her injured arm and instantly regretting her choice and she cried out sharply in pain. Trying to be stoic, Paris took a deep breath once on the ground, then straightened up, doing her best to appear uninjured so as not to undermine unit confidence.

Asa immediately saw the punctures in the armor, the way Paris was favoring her good arm, and heard the yelp the stoic first officer made upon her exit from the rooftop. Asa decided to take advantage of excellent bone mass and made it to ground level in three easy jumps. Upon landing, they glanced over at Paris and said in the same flat tone that had pervaded their speech since accidentally killing the enemy soldier, “You need pain management to get out of this alive. I’m giving that to you now, and if you want to chew me out later, you can. I may even have words for you regarding use of an injured limb. But that can wait…”

The doctor reached into the holster at their hip filled with hypos and medicines and drew out a small injectable container. They quickly went to Rita’s bare neck and pressed the medicine into her bloodstream. In addition to providing immediate relief to the pain, Rita felt a bit of movement come back into her shoulder and a sense of renewed vigor. Without waiting to be asked, Asa said simply, “Battlefront meds. Not great for long term, but we don’t have long term without them. Still, try not to use the arm if possible.”

“Doc… I promise I’ll be the best patient ever later, but if you could just plug the hole and stop the bleeding for now I’d appreciate it,” Paris offered while scanning the area to insure they were not caught unawares while they were taking a vulnerable moment.

"Understood ma'am," the doctor replied, reaching for a tissue knitter on their belt. "This will feel....unpleasant," they said, "swift tissue regeneration often does, but there's nothing for it if we are going to keep you going. Plus, you have a bit of.....claw......in your shoulder. Light only knows what that would do long term."

The tool began whirring, and as Rita's tissues rapidly knit back together, they pushed the claw out of her shoulder and threw it to the ground. The doctor wiped the residual blood off both human and armor and tossed the bloodied rag they had used. "No point making it easy to track you ma'am. Are you ok to move?"

“Dandy,” Paris relied. Standing up straight, she flexed her left hand experimentally, and found that while it ached, it didn’t hurt. Good drugs, she thought to herself. “Good work Doc- now let’s keep moving. Revolutions aren’t going to foment themselves, after all. We’re going to have to make time, so keep up and keep your eyes open- at this speed we’ll be less careful and more vulnerable-“ Paris didn’t finish the statement before a minotaur rounded the corner and seemed surprised to see them in the alleyway.

Without hesitation, Paris raised the rifle, and a burst of three rounds stitched their way up the creature’s chest before driving its left eye out through the back of its skull. As it dropped to its knees, the first officer was already in motion, taking the doctor’s arm in her off hand, and tugging them along as they began to sprint. “Tempus fugit- time for us to be elsewhere, Myx Dael.”

With that, they took off at a rather reckless speed to catch up with Malana.

The doctor felt their face turn green seeing the death of the Minotaur, but understood the need to keep moving as quickly as possible. They ran to keep pace with Rita, feeling slightly dizzy at their enhanced speed. As the duo ran, crowds of men had turned on their captors, screaming “Death to Hera!” while using table legs, shovels, and other impromptu weapons to bash Amazons on the head. Masses of them were being slaughtered, but it seemed to just spur on their fervor. Fury at each fallen man increased the rage in the groups of women and men, and they began to charge their captors en masse as if a single mind controlled them.

Around the next bend was a group of six children standing in the middle of the road, terrified. Asa spotted a covered pergola that appeared to offer relative safety to the young ones, and paused to pick them up, two at a time, and said, “Hide in the bushes,” before throwing them off the street. They did not know if Rita would approve or not, but they were not going to let children stand in the road and get run down. When they turned around, they found the armored back of the golden girl guarding them. Clearly while she had mission priorities, Paris wasn’t about to forget her humanity in a warzone.

Once the children were out of the way, Asa saw they were closing in on the next temple, and their HUD showed Malana pinned down by two assailants. “Plan?” they shouted to Rita over the din of revolution.

“Draw their fire, rescue the civilian, keep moving,” Paris responded, calibrating the grenade launcher on the fly. Reaching over her shoulder, Paris grasped the hilt of the cutlass she’d chosen, the close-quarters weapon favored by ancient mariners of her world.

As the bell-guard closed around her fist, laced with the alloy that was an anathema to the mythical lifeforms who followed Hera’s commands, Paris never slowed. Instead, as they found the cul-de-sac alley where the stone-faced scientist was seeking cover, Rita bounded up onto a barrel and launched herself up, coming down with the machete-like blade braced against her armored breast, using her momentum to drive it through one of the Amazons pinning down Malana.

While the technique was spectacularly successful, driving the blade through the Amazon while Rita’s weight bore her to the ground, between the bell guard and the awkward landing, the first officer was not exactly in any sort of position to defend herself as she sprawled into the alley, tangled with the dying amazon to whom she was now pinned by her bladed weapon.

Asa came running up quickly, standing to obscure the view of what was happening as much as possible from outside eyes. They glanced at Malana, relieved to find her stony exterior remained in-tact, though what was left of her armor had all but been destroyed at this point. Their next glance showed a charging Amazon running at them full speed ahead. Asa feinted to be preparing for a charge, but at the last possible moment, dropped to the ground while grabbing for their last sedative coated blade and slicing at the Amazons heels. The blade struck deep, severing the tendon and the Amazon fell over the now prone doctor.

Under normal circumstances, it would not have been a killing blow, but in the process of falling and tripping over Asa, the warrior managed to hit her head with great force on a nearby cart, and then with her neck at a deadly angle on the ground. The El-Aurian started to stand up and froze when they saw the results of their handiwork.

“I…I…I…..wasn’t trying to kill her,” Asa sobbed briefly. Then, upon seeing Rita stuck on the ground, they rushed over, shoved the dying Amazon out of the way, and helped the XO back to her feet. “Are- are you ok ma’am?” they inquired. Rita noticed the quaver in their voice, and the tremor that was growing ever-stronger in the physicians hands.

I am going to die out here. I am going to die and it’s my own stupid fault because I took a job on the Intel ship that does dirty deeds. I’m not a soldier, and pretending to be one is going to get me and them killed. Stupid girl, Rita had played out in her head when she finally managed to wrench her hand free from the bell-guard of her sword, just as Doc Dael spoke and Rita realized they had passed their breaking point.

“Doctor? Listen to me, because I need you to be here with me now. You have saved my life more than once today. In order to do so, blood has been shed and lives taken. I know. I know. This is not what you signed on for, I know, and you don’t want to be here. But these people rioting in the streets need our help. They need our help and we’re the only ones here. The humanitarian option doesn’t work on most of our opponents, and-“ Rita bodily flung the physician out of the way as a spear clanged off her thigh armor, denting it painfully. Firing a short burst, a minotaur dropped from the rooftop to fall into the alley with a rather revolting sound.

Stepping over to where she had spun the frail physician, Paris offered her left hand to help the doctor up. “There are no heroes here, Doctor. There’s just us, so we’ll have to do. And we aren’t noble or above it all- we’re here and these people want us dead, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen. When this is over we can feel all of this and deal with it. But right now, if we don’t stop her, all of our shipmates are going to die. These people will live out generations in slavery, and my home planet, the seat of the United Federation of Planets, will be overrun by these very troops whom I’m putting rounds through in the streets of this alien world.”

“So for now, Doc, I’m sorry. But duty calls, and on the side of the angels, there’s you, me and she makes three. So deep breath, focus on the mission and let’s keep moving.” The expression she’d worn through the speech was one of grim heartbreak. Rita Paris was good at many things, but concealing her emotions was not one of them. Regret and shame were clear on her face, but she couldn’t protect them all if she had to literally carry a shell-shocked doctor on her back. Right now she needed back-up, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to get these two out of here alive. Her speech was as much for herself to hear as the two charges she was trying to protect.

“Un-understood, ma’am. Can we go now?” the doctor asked, studiously avoiding looking at the body of the Amazon they had attacked.

Sensing Rita’s assent before it was even given, they fell back in the middle spot between Malana and Rita as the trio made their way through the streets. The group approached the shrine, and a power structure was visible from above again as they made their way down the streets.

Malana tinkered with her rifle a bit as she walked, trying to get it working again before just slapping it back on her back. Rather than get upset about not having a weapon, she just grunted and picked up a few rocks.

This time however, the defenders of the shrine were expecting assault from above, having had a prime view of the surrounding area. Four harpies sat atop the roof and Amazons prowled the exterior. A small uprising of men and women combined were raging two streets over from the shrine, and a small detachment of Amazons had been dispatched to put down the revolutionaries before the band endangered their charge.

“Ma’am, I’m having a terrible idea…can we work with the revolution? At least use it for a bit of cover fire? We aren’t going to get off this hill otherwise…” the doctor concluded.

Long and hard, Paris stared at the shrine, running through possibilities in her head. One plan after another was discarded, until she checked a setting on the rifle, pointed it at the structure and pulled the trigger, although there was no apparent effect.

“No, Doctor. We don’t endanger the civilians if we can help it. We’re still Starfleet,” Paris declared as she led the trio into another side street.

Moving to circle around the shrine, the first officer moved through the alleys to where the resistance was being slaughtered by yet another Minotaur. Raising the rifle, a shot rang out, gaining the beast’s attention as it passed through its shoulder. As it turned its attention to the Starfleet officer, Paris switched to auto and put a short burst through the head and shoulders of the rampaging behemoth. As it collapsed in the street, the citizenry fell upon it with their sticks and rocks and crude farming implements. The golden-armored avenger strode through, wasting no time to tarry with the locals, who were jubilant at the fall of their oppressor and excited to embrace their saviors.

Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, Paris worked the comm unit on her left wrist. “Paris to Thor. I’ve painted a target in the city- give me two micro-missiles at that location. Fire now, on my authorization,” she ordered. Swinging the rifle back into her hand, she ejected the spent clip and slammed home another, hoping against hope that she would not run out of ammunition on this mission.

Behind them, two missiles screamed out of the sky, and the shrine exploded, once in a fireball that consumed it, then again in another that seemed to be overkill.

Recoiling instinctively from the blast, Asa read the PaDD and pointed directly across the valley where the hills began rising again, “2700 meters from here, but the next target is halfway around the hill. We should try to stay to the outskirts, although they are bound to expect us coming no matter what we do at this point.”

“Not like we’ve left a trail behind us,” Rita smirked, chucking a thumb over her shoulder at the smoldering plumes of smoke they had left in their wake. “All right. 2700 meters…. Stupid big city. All right Miss Malana, as our slowest member, you set the pace. So let’s start making time, shall we?”

"As steady as a mountain," was Malana's only reply as she kept up at a reasonable pace.

With that, the trio set off at a jog, with Paris in the lead. Along the way, more and more encounters with revolting citizenry were encountered, and at one point a mob of citizens turned to assault the landing party, assuming them to be more of Hera’s troops who were simply as yet unseen. A spray of rubber bullets into the leading edge of the crowd slowed them enough for the trio to make good their escape, but it demonstrated that Hera’s grip on this planet had most certainly slipped. And whether they took out the psionic collection relays or not, the locals were none too keen on worshipping their dark mistress any longer.

Taking a break in an alleyway, Paris ran her gloved hand across her sweat-soaked face, shoving her shock of short blonde hair out of her eyes. “How about a little pick-me-up, Doc? My get up and go seems to have gotten up and went.”

With an attempt at a smile, Asa said, "I hear that starts to happen around 200 or so," while reaching for a tricorder to confirm Rita was not suffering any serious injuries. "I would tell you that if we don't properly treat your arm within the next six hours then it's going to be a bitch to fix through physio and a series of small surgeries, but it's not like there is anything we can do for it out here. Still, no more than six doses of these meds in 24 hours, and this," they said, injecting more into the Lieutenant Commander's' neck, "makes two."

Malana inspected the wound as well this time. "Hold still for a moment for me as well, Commander." She had ground the rocks she had picked up into a powder and now she mixed them with a bit of her saliva to form a sort of plaster or concrete and she used that to patch the holes in Rita's armor. Within moments the cement had set into a rock hard patch and Malana grunted at her handiwork.

Turning to face both and show the PaDD to the two women, Asa pointed to a small dot near to their current location. "Decision time- there is a rail to take workers and materials all the way to the top of the mountain- where the main temple is. There is no way to know if the track is in working condition the whole way, or who may greet us at any point. However, it's a hell of a lot faster than legging it. I'm in good enough condition to run, but I'm enhanced and uninjured. What say you?"

Pulling out one of her three tricorders, Malana scanned as far as she could, searching for the power supplies that gave Hera her power, as well as Hera herself. She then turned the tricorder towards the general direction of the other targets the teams were to hit. "From my scans, it seems most targets have been hit and forces have been sufficiently scattered and distracted that I recommend we take the risk. In fact, I no longer detect the presence of Hera's primary source of power."

Peering up at the mountain and the rugged trail that led around it, Lieutenant Commander Paris shook her head. "I don't think I have that run in me. And those harpies will just keep after us, and I'm on my last clip already. I don't know about fighting my way up the mountain, but running the rail like that as a shortcut? I might just put you down for a commendation for original thinking, Doctor." That was an Academy joke, and had been ever since Kirk beat the Kobayashi Maru. "I'm no soldier, but running is something with which I'm very familiar, and quite able."

Off in the distance, an explosion was heard, a loud one followed by cracking and mild tremors felt even this far away. "Sounds like our shipmates have been busy as well. Your plan is sound, Myx Dael, lead on. I must say, you make an excellent navigator."

Scanning again, Malana nodded. "All targets have been hit and with only the..." Suddenly, a low rumble from the main temple could be heard, reverberating across the land. "It seems our hostess is upset," Malana commented dispassionately. "Shall we go entertain her?"

“Cranky goddesses whose revolutions are underway because I made the call are my favorite first contacts,” Rita Paris quipped. “I wonder how Ensign Jurot did with her meeting?” Another rumble shook the ground slightly, and Paris turned an eye toward the mountain. “Not well I’d wager, given her diplomatic skills…”

With a nod and gesture towards the direction the party should take, Dael began wending their way through the underbrush towards the rail line. “Do we need to get in touch with the rest of the away team ma’am, or should we carry on and tell them where to meet us? A little extra weaponry might not be the worst idea…”

“With all the chaos, I suspect it might not be the worst idea.” Reaching for her classic communicator, Paris snapped her fingers as she realized that she left it with the Commodore. Tapping the wrist comm, she encrypted the signal, then sent a text message to the Thor to be prepared to dust off the away team at the spaceport by coordinating with Lieutenant Commader sh’Zoarhi. When the spaceport mission was complete, Paris ordered the Thor crew to ferry the other half of the landing party to the main temple in 18 minutes. Since Hera’s chariot fleet was supposed to be taking off in 13 minutes, and if the other away team did not succeed, the Thor already had their orders to destroy the spaceport with extreme volcanic prejudice.

Glancing back up, weariness tried to settle in, as shock over the day and the attendant adrenaline had their way with the explorer of another age, thrust into combat with myths older than she was. Seeing the expectant and vulnerable face of the young immortal and the impassive expression of the alien scientist, Paris drew herself upright, took a deep breath and nodded to them both, her exterior the soul of confident command.

“Last leg of the journey, people. Let’s go make a house call on a cranky immortal who really should have learned better people skills by this millennium of her life. Shall we?” With that said, Paris set off in the direction of the base of the tram system the Doctor had located, which would enable them to make an unconventional approach to the tyrant’s lair.

Arriving at the tram station that ran the elevated cables to the mountaintop- apparently a leftover from the higher-technology society that existed before Hera laid waste to it and forced the locals back to an earlier cultural model- the trio of Starfleet liberators studied it from a shadowed alley. There were Amazon guards who appeared to be supplemented by two of the living marble statues.

“I think we can bypass the guards if we get on the rooftops adjacent and make the jump to the cables… they look wide enough to run on,” Lieutenant Commander Paris opined. “I’d prefer to take the car up, but I suspect they would shut that down in a hurry if we tried hijacking it. Of course, running on a great big cable hundreds of feet above the city as it ascends a mountain isn’t exactly the safest plan I’ve ever had either, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If any of you want to back out now, I’ll understand. Not everyone is up for an intensely dangerous climb leading to our arrival to meet someone who has declared war on what boils down to the civilized galaxy.”

Pausing to smirk, Rita paris looked around. “Come to think of it, that’s probably the worst motivational speech I’ve ever given. But we’re here and there’s a job to do, and no one else to do it. So… are you in?” Clearly by dint of her tone and the conversation, Paris was already committed to the plan.

Well this is just about my worst nightmare come true, Asa thought to themself, The universes most awkward person climbs to the top of a freaking high wire and runs up a mountain in a combat zone. I’m going to die. And probably in the stupidest way possible. I will probably try to jump onto the wire and land directly on Hera or something equally asinine.

“Sure, but, um, maybe we should split the rope from earlier into thirds and all tie ourselves onto the rope? Just in case? So we don’t, you know, fall and die?” they squeaked out.

“Mmmmmno,” Paris replied. “We tie ourselves to the line, so that if one of us goes, the other two have a chance to stop it. But our fates, as it were, are linked. Understand?”

"Heh, um, I'm a bit....fall prone....but, um, yes ma'am," the young doctor replied, hoping no one could see the fear in their eyes and the flop sweat forming on their forehead. At least the MACO armor would not make having sweaty palms be an issue, the doctor thought.

With a gulp and a sigh, the doctor began towards the nearest access tower. "Tower ahoy, as it were. Who wants lead?"

Recognizing fear wasn’t hard, as the frail physician was as bad if not worse than the first officer when it came to concealing their feelings. Placing her hand on the white-armored shoulder, Paris sought the eyes of the young El-Aurian. “I’ll take the lead. We’re in this together, Doc- I won’t let you fall, neither will Malana. And if you see one of us going over, worst case scenario you just jump off the other side, and you can save us, just like we’ll save you. Nobody gets left behind. Right?”

A small smile graced the doctor's face, "Right," was all they said.

"Plus we will have to worry about harpies. May I again suggest we risk the trolley car? If not, I will act as the anchor." Malana could at least do that. She'd seen how a number of entertainment holovids involving similar modes of transport ended and they were never in the favor of the invading team, but at least she could minimize the risks as best she could.

"Perhaps we should climb up and see where the closest car is? If it is close, we can approach on foot over the rail, and scan for life signs as soon as we see it. With any luck, we can get a read on them before they will get a read on us. If there are hostiles, we can better decide the next steps. Also, a little bit of creative use of mud and grass and we can somewhat camouflage ourselves from aerial attackers. The more we look like the ground, the better. They are expecting us as we are...it may not occur to them to look for a lump of grass," Dael suggested after a moment.

"Not thinking the lump of grass plan has any real roots here, but I do like the idea of catching the cable to hijack a trolley car in motion. Then they might not catch on, and worst case scenario we end up having to run the cable. All right, let's relocate to that rooftop over there- it looks far enough away from the station to avoid detection and close enough that we're only risking pain by falling off." Paris pointed to the rooftop in question, which would be close enough to enable them to access the cable with a minimum of athletics.

Scanning the building with one of her tricorders, Malana shook her head. "The roof of that building is not strong enough to support me. It is also doubtful that I could make the distance needed to the cable." Scanning the surrounding buildings, she pointed at the building the wires were coming from. The one clearly guarded. "We would need that building."

“No help for it them,” the golden armored astronaut sighed. “So, it looks like four Amazon guards and two of those statues who can petrify with a look. Ordinarily I’d pitch a grenade, but we can’t risk damaging the tram or the cables. A flash-bang should do the trick to disorient the Amazons so that we can deal with them, but that likely won’t work on the living stone. So… ideas?”

"I'll handle the statues," Malana replied, not even bothering to explain herself.

Cocking her head slightly, Paris shrugged slightly. “As you say, Miss Malana. Doc, you’re my backup. I’ll handle the rough stuff, you make sure my back doesn’t sprout a shortsword. Let’s make our way to that low wall over there- it gives us the best tactical position and the shortest amount of ground to cover to take advantage of their stunned senses.” With that said, the buxom blonde pulled back to make her way to their chosen position. Asa followed, waiting for the ensuing chaos to begin.

Once in position, Paris offered a nod as she switched the grenade launcher to flash-bang, then fired, hitting one of the Amazons in the chest with the grenade as she turned away to not be blinded in the flash.

At a sign from Paris, Asa averted their eyes and braced for the concussive sound that followed shortly behind. The Amazons staggered woozily, attempting to recover their equilibrium with varied levels of success. The doctor jumped to a second story balcony on the building and shimmied up the exterior of the building to reach the top quickly. Upon reaching the summit, they swung one leg over the rooftop and rolled onto the slightly angled surface.

The nearest Amazon did not appear to have spotted the good doctor and was still trying to stand fully upright. Seeing no other immediate threat, Asa belly-crawled over to the Amazon, grabbed her by her ankles, and threw her off the roof. As she hit the ground, the doctor fired their phaser on maximum-stun to ensure the warrior did not get back up. Satisfied with their aim, the doctor went to stand up, only to meet the business end of a spear directly in their gut. The white MACO armor was slightly cracked, and the blow felt like stack of bricks falling on the frail form of the doctor. They fell backward, landing soundly on their hind end, and felt all the air leave their lungs. Seeing an oncoming onslaught from the enraged attacked, Asa curled reflexively into a ball and braced for oncoming blows that would surely follow.

In the meanwhile, Paris had not been idle. Stepping out from the alley, firing standard rounds from the combat rifle one-handed, she put one out of three rounds through a swordswoman’s right shoulder, discouraging her from swordplay. The Starfleet legacy officer’s phaser in her right hand was more accurate, stunning out two more of the dazzled Amazons before they could regain their composure and activate their defenses. The fourth, whose vision was spotty but clearing, activated her shield and charged the intruder amongst them.

As for Malana, she was all on the two marble people. As soon as she came into view, their gazes were fixed on her and hers on them. It was a deadlocked competition on which of them had a more stone-like glare at this point as the two statues slowly moved towards her.

She had an advantage though. She could move far faster. Rather than running towards them though, she sauntered up to the first one, taking the full force of its stone gaze as she did so. With a flash of light from its eyes, a beam shot out and struck Malana, turning the granite woman into... Stone?

Dusting the stone dust off of herself, she casually closed the gap between them and simply pushed the wide eyed marble man over, shattering him to pieces. She then repeated the process with the other one as he was half turned, trying to... Run in terror?

"The Marble men are dealt with!" she called out, reporting to her comrades as a random Amazon decided to strike at her with a sword. Much to the Amazon's surprise, striking a solid block of granite with your entire strength is not the smartest thing to do, and she dropped her sword in a cry of pain. Malana delivered a love tap to the side of her head and the woman was out like a light.

Meanwhile, Asa remained doing their best impersonation of a turtle, hiding their head beneath arms, showing armored back to the enraged Amazon who was trying to stab them over and over again. Once it became clear that although the blows were painful, they were not likely to be deadly, the doctor risked moving their arms a bit and gripped at the large tiles. After pulling off a tile, the doctor pulled out another, and another, and another, creating a small hole around where they were hiding.

As soon as the Amazon attacking them went to rear back for a fresh round of blows, Asa quickly squirmed into the attic of the structure, moved over to be approximately under where the Amazon stood, and fired their phaser at maximum strength through the roof, directly into the Amazon warrior, catching them unawares from below and blasting them off the roof and into the air.

Meanwhile, Rita Paris and the remaining Amazon guard had been exchanging blows. While her energy shield bracer was still active, the warrior woman’s shortsword was laying in the dusty street alongside Paris’ phaser, while her rifle lay a few meters distant, where it had been knocked during the fray. As the Hera servitor grappled her from behind, Paris drove an elbow into the woman’s gut, then judo flipped her onto the hard cobblestones. As she made for her phaser, the Amazon tripped her, dropping Paris to the ground where the Amazon crawled over to grapple her, wrapping her hands around the Starfleet siren’s throat.

A snarl set upon the lips of the gold-clad commander in the scratched and scraped up armor, and she drove her fist across the Amazon’s jaw, startling her into releasing her grip. Another blow followed, and another as Rita Paris declared, “I… have had… enough… of… you!”

As the Amazon dropped unconscious to the dirt, Paris rolled over to stagger to her feet, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth that she wiped away with the back of her hand. Collecting her phaser and rifle, Paris turned to the wounded Amazon she’d shot in the shoulder. Pointing her phaser at the injured woman, she gestured to the tram car. “Get in if you want to see tomorrow. Doc, Malana, load up. Let us beat a hasty retreat.”

In reality, Paris meant that Doc would patch her up and stop her bleeding, but it sounded a lot tougher as a threat with a weapon in each hand. Some diplomat you are. What was it they used to call it? Cowboy diplomacy...

That was when it clicked for Rita Paris, and she understood where she'd been going wrong.

That part of Sonak that she carried within her, that bit of his legendary katra spoke within her, rattling off the Fedepedia description.

Cowboy diplomacy: a term used by critics to describe the resolution of conflicts through brash risk-taking, intimidation, military deployment, or a combination of such tactics. It is criticized as stemming from an overly simple, dichotomous galactic view.

But when the other side wouldn't listen, sometimes it took cowboy diplomacy to make them listen.

Starfleet hadn't changed that much at all, she realized.

"There's a few universal translators on me, lady. I know you understand me. Get in the tram or I'm gonna poke you in the shoulder." When the Amazon defiantly refused to budge, Paris slipped the rifle onto her back, where magnets caught and placed it. Reaching out with her left hand, Paris grabbed the woman by the injured arm and pulled her to her feet. While unwilling, the woman came along, dragged into the tram car. "Vamanos!"

"Somebody needs to work the tram car, and you're elected. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way." Paris gave the injured woman a slight shove toward the control panel, waiting for Doc to start in with the 'good cop' routine. Come on, sufferin' Sappho, don't call my bluff here...

With an angry glance, the Amazon turned to the control panel and operated the simple control, starting the tram up the mountain moving with a lurch. Then she turned, glaring defiantly while holding her injured shoulder and gesturing to indicate that she’d done as was coerced of her.

Tapping out a message on the comm that would stream across the visor of LTJG Dael, Paris conveyed her intention. See if you can get her talking while you patch her up, Doc. Let’s see what the Amazon mindset is here. We’ve got a slow trip here and we could use all the edge we can get.

Asa stifled a sound of surprise as the message from Paris came across the screen.

I forgot these things can do that. Good grief that startled me.

The doctor felt like their limbs were made of lead as they moved about the tram. They took quite a beating on the rooftop, and although not seriously harmed, they were sure to be developing a collection of bruises and felt like they had been run over by a horse. However, duty must come first, and there was work to be done. Surreptitiously the doctor reached into their bag and pulled out two hypos, each with a dose of the battlefront meds they had previously administered to Rita. Before approaching the captured Amazon, the doctor took their gloves off and administered a dose to themselves first, feeling the vigor come back into their limbs as the pain faded.

There is going to be a hell of a price to pay for this later.

Once tending to their own needs was complete, the doctor approached the wounded Amazon warily. They removed their helmet, allowing the warrior to see their face and eyes more clearly. The doctor strongly believed that a face showing compassion could calm a battered soul more effectively than many tranquilizers…after all, how could one feel trust if one couldn’t even really see who was approaching them?

Once they reached the wary wounded woman, the doctor sat to be eye level with their patient, and in an even, calm, melodious timbre said, “Hi there, I’m a doctor. I’m going to look at your wound now and see if we can’t get that feeling better, okay?”

After receiving no response, but no confrontation either, the doctor took that as assent and began to remove the woman's hand from her shoulder. When the patient refused to comply, Asa said, “I need to see your wound in order to best treat it. I promise I’m not going to hurt you…I’m a doctor, I really, really, really hate seeing people suffer, no matter who they serve. My name is Asa, and I want to help you. What’s your name?”

The woman replied curtly, “Leda.”

“Hi, Leda, nice to meet you,” the doctor soothed. The tension in their patients arm lessened, and they were able to pull it away, revealing a nasty bullet wound in the woman's shoulder. The entry wound wasn't bad, but the exit wound was horrific. “This is going to be infected and hurt like hell if we don’t treat it. I promise this is not going to hurt more than you already are, but I need to treat this now. OK?”

After Leda nodded, Asa pulled out a tissue knitter and began the process of closing the wound. The woman grimaced slightly at the unfamiliar sound and peculiar sensation, but did not utter a sound throughout the process. The flesh healed, the doctor took out a small patch from their kit and placed it over the now-healed wound. “This is going to stop any pain from this wound for the next 3 days. After that point, it will be good as new. How do you feel?”

Leda looked startled as the residual pain vanished. The patch did not have the same rejuvenating effects a the stim shots Dael and Paris had received. After all, the doctor reasoned, no point juicing up the enemy. She didn’t need that much energy to operate a tram. It occurred to the doctor it was unlikely Hera cared enough to treat her wounded warriors. She was much more likely to simply discard them until they healed naturally. The kindness shown to the warrior was likely to be some of the first she has received in a long time.

I only hope its enough to make a difference Asa thought.

Still seated next to Leda, Asa made brief eye contact with Paris to indicate treatment was complete, and proceeded to don their gloves again, but kept the helmet in their lap in order to maintain complete eye contact with the captive.

“We need your help, Leda. We are going to Hera's temple. It’s very important we….speak…with her. You must love Hera deeply?” the doctor inquired.

"I'm only helping you because I've seen your power, sisters. You are strong women, but Hera will take care of you." Leaning against the wall of the trolley, the proud Amazon woman looked on at all three of them without a hint of shame.

Why does every lifeform insist on giving me a gender? Good grief that’s irritating. Sister indeed. Asa grouched in their head. They knew it was to be expected, but the misunderstanding chafed as it always did.

Maintaining a placid smile, Asa continued on, “Power has many forms, Leda. The power of destruction is strong, yes. But the power of creation is much stronger. The power to create hope where there was none, the power to create happiness with a simple word or gesture, the power to bring hope and freedom to those who have none. Do you see this power here? Please, Leda, I want to understand. Can you teach me why choose to serve someone who does not love you? Someone who destroys instead of creates? Someone who screams in weakness after a mere day in our presence? Surely no God would be easily oppressed? Yet her power wanes….you feel it, yes?”

Leda smirked in reply. "You do not see the miracles she has wrought. She has liberated the women of this world and she will create a utopia for women across the galaxy. No longer will you have to bend to the will of male oppression. Her strength grows with each passing day and this day is no different."

At that, Paris barked a laugh that continued, a rather mirthless affair. “Right. That’s why when we sent female diplomats she slaughtered them all, and destroyed everyone who came to seek peace. She lied to you and your sisters, and you all lapped it up because it was what you wanted to hear. Hera doesn’t care about you or sisterhood or women, she’s just pissed off because she has lousy taste in men.” The words coming out of Rita’s mouth surprised her, but she’d just been through a war zone because of Hera’s unreasonable nature and millennial grudge, and hearing the litany of stooge irritated her more than she thought it would.

Leda looked surprised and was a bit stunned by the laughter and what Rita said. By this time the trolley had reached the top of the cable and it had stopped on its own though, so she had nothing else to really say.

Malana stared at the woman for a few moments before stepping off of the trolley. Interestingly, it wasn't guarded at the top and the steps into the temple were clear of any visible obstacles. "I suggest we face Hera. Perhaps she will be more inclined to negotiation at this point."

Tapping away at her comm, Paris sent a message to Sonak, sh’Zoarhi and Yaeger as well as Clemens and French. Have reached main temple, converge as you are able, bring the Thor. No resistance encountered thus far. Pressing on to temple now. ~LTCDR Paris

“Here’s hoping that isn’t my last report,” Paris muttered to herself. Turning to Leda, Paris ordered, “Take the tram back to the city and tend to your wounded sisters. Most of them will live- that’s mercy. Hera shows none, so you’d better hope we win today.”

Stepping off the tram, Paris unlimbered the bulky assault weapon, switched it back over to ammunition of myth and confirmed the grenade launcher settings. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled it slowly.

“All right, people. Let’s go take an audience with a goddess.”

The mission timer on the viewscreen was steadily counting down as everyone prepared for the coming mission. Enalia wasn't the only one tense as the timer reached zero. Everyone was already at battlestations so all that was needed was the final order to be given.

Hitting the alert switch, she sent the Hera into red alert, dimming the overhead lights and activating the red warning lights. "Engage mission. Launch both runabouts. Send Jurot down now. Dox, take us in."

"Aye, Captain." Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox replied. The young pilot ran her hands across the helm controls of the massive vessel and the engines responded, bringing the Hera to life. This was Dox's first mission as the Hera's pilot and she pursed her lips anxiously in preparation for what she knew was about to begin.

As the pair of runabouts zipped past the Hera, the gravid vessel moved after them. "Deactivate stealth plating and make us the biggest target in the system. Bring the Metaphasic shields online. Ready all weapons and warm up the tractors." Enalia gave a few last orders before they entered the asteroid field surrounding the system and engaged the outer defenses.

Lieutenant Dauntless' dainty brown fingers danced across the dark reflective surface of her console. "Stealth plating: deactivated," announced the diminutive operations chief. A wary glace at the dedicated displays on her console confirmed the successful shunt of power from the stealth plating towards the Hera's shield and beam emitters assemblies. "Metaphasic shields: at 100%... Tractor beams: online & standing-by... Subspace signature at five-zero-seven, Captain. That ought to grab their attention."

"Excellent. Now we just need to..." Enalia's next thought was cut off by the flashing of the silver and gold weapons fire from the sixty meter long chariot that came racing towards them, completely ignoring the pair of runabouts. "Return fire. Evasives as you please." Enalia was eager to see what Dox would come up with while in the outer asteroid fields against a smaller, much more agile ship. She also needed to get a feel for how she flew so she could integrate her own tricks, which was tricky to do in the middle of combat.

"Aye, Captain." Dox responded with a focused, unemotional tone. The chariot closed in on the Hera as she glanced down to her helm display controls to see that they were rapidly approaching a cluster of mid sized asteroids directly ahead and below the ship and the young pilot saw an opportunity.

"Giving you their belly, tactical!" Dox exclaimed with just a touch more energy in her voice as she slammed the controls down hard. Powerful thrusters kicked in hard and there was a slight groan on the hull as the massive Nebula Class Starship shot immediately down with her nose dipping at high speed just below the oncoming asteroid cluster. The maneuver forced the approaching chariot to pull up sharply to avoid the asteroids that were now suddenly between the two vessels and arc over the top of the Hera's path.

The Ensign at tactical was sharp and hit the tractors just in time to give the biggest asteroid a shove right into the chariot, smashing into its shields and sending it spinning into another asteroid. It didn't destroy it, but it did bounce it around enough so it was easy for the follow up torpedo spread to smash through the severely weakened shields and turn it into glowing debris.

"That's one chariot down, one left, Ma'am," Reported Ensign Yorn at Tactical. "Two more inbound. ETA one minute"

"Good job," Enalia called out as the next one came in on a frontal attack vector. Tactical fired phasers but with the maneuvering of the Chariot, couldn't get a clean shot. "Dox, ever play chicken?"

"Yes I have." Dox replied with a slightly elevated tone that expressed not cockiness but a slight display of assuredness. Having learned to fly on smuggling ships that ran between Romulan and Klingon space, such maneuvering was second nature to the young pilot. Dox pulled the manual helm controls back and the nose of the Hera raised to meet the rapidly oncoming chariot. "Course laid in, awaiting orders, Captain."

"Ensign Yorn? Drag a nice asteroid behind us. Lieutenant Dox, keep us right on course but make sure we blink first." Enalia leaned forward in the central chair, grinning. She knew that these Amazonians piloting these Chariots were all about honor and victory. They weren't expecting tricks or anything like that. They were used to honorable combat and putting down men and trying to liberate women or some such.

Yorn piped up from tactical. "I have a nice ship sized asteroid in our shadow, Captain. And... matched to our velocity... It's free." Phaser fire still lanced from the bow of the Hera, but now it seemed to box the Chariot in so it didn't maneuver much at all.

"That's right... watch us. You've got us." Dox muttered under her breath lightly as the two ships raced towards each other. "Brace yourselves!" She exclaimed as she leaned hard into the Hera's controls as the massive vessel turned rapidly to it's side and proceeded to perform a tight barrel roll around the oncoming chariot, the tops of the two ships barely clearing each other.

Even with inertial dampeners on maximum the g-forces inside the Hera slammed her crew hard back into their seats as the ships shields flared up... Scraping across the attacking chariots shields. The Hera rumbled slightly as it cleared the chariot and returned to its former attitude with its opponent in its wake... Nose to nose with Ensign Yorn's surprise.

The wake of the explosion behind the Hera was enough to rattle the entire ship but the shields held and were surprisingly still at full strength. "Shields still at ninety eight percent. Next Chariot pair ETA thirty seconds." Ensign Yorn reported.

Enalia leaned back in her chair and relaxed for now. "Drop the stealth mines here and loop back around at about half impulse. Dauntless, what's the status of the away teams? Have they landed yet?"

Ensign Yorn triggered the deployment of the several dozen mines that had been prepared in the third hangar bay and set them to activate as soon as the Hera was far enough away.

"Captain, runabouts are still four minutes from landing," announced Delilah Dauntless.

"Trajectory and speed as ordered, Captain." Dox brought the ship around and dropped her speed.

"Back to combat speed. Take us behind that big asteroid. Lieutenant Dauntless, vent some plasma from our starboard nacelle to make it look like we're wounded and trying to run." Enalia had another trick up her sleeve. "Not enough to ignite though. Just enough to let them know where we are. Also ready a decoy probe and the stealth plating. As soon as we're out of view, we're going to pull a vanishing act on them."

"Aye, Captain." Dox replied as she entered the Captains instructions into the helm.

Delilah's brow furrowed in concentration as she accessed the necessary subsystems. "Prepping decoy probe now... stealth plating on standby..." With a few deft strokes of her fingers, the probe had been programmed to mimic the subspace signature that the Hera had used to get the enemy's attention. "Decoy ready, Captain."

As soon as the Hera was out of sight, Enalia sprung her trap. "Activate stealth plating and launch that decoy. Dive down below them so we have a clear shot at their bellies. Ready on the weapons for Alpha strike Telvan Three. Now is where the fun begins."

The operations console told the tale as the Hera's metaphasic shields powered down, and their energy was re-routed into the stealth plating that armored the Nebula-class vessel's outer hull. "Shield's are down & stealth plating is up," announced Dauntless in her eerie, child-like voice. In the same breath, a soft warbling sound from the young lieutenant's console signaled the probe's successful launch. "Decoy is away," Delilah confirmed.

All the while, Dox put the Hera into a dive, hugging close to the asteroid so as to use it's gravity to whip the Nebula Class Starship tightly beneath the asteroid and shoot her out the other side. "We're inside the asteroid's gravitational field, which should obscue our impulse signature enough so they shouldn't see us coming, Captain. Clearing in three..."

Enalia was about to remind Dauntless that they didn't need to lower shields to engage the stealth plating, but then she remembered that the metaphasic shields lit up the ship like a christmas tree no matter what. She'd have to commend the woman later in private. For now they'd have to rely on the regular shields and hope they didn't get off a lucky shot while stealthed.

Checking her own sensor feed on her command chair, Enalia waited for just the right moment to spring the trap.

The two new Chariots entered the minefield, not seeing the stealthed mines, and soon found themselves dealing with quite a few hidden explosives that stripped them of almost all their shields. That didn't deter them from chasing the Hera at top speed though. As soon as they passed behind the asteroid and saw that it was a decoy and not the hera, they tried to break off pursuit, but it was too late.

"Lieutenant Dox, if you would please take it from here. Ensign Yorn, as soon as you have a firing solution for both targets, fire at will." Enalia grinned as her trap came together perfectly.

In an instant, the Hera crested the leading edge of the asteroid above and behind the damaged chariots, arcing upside down like a massive whale breaching the ocean. Of course, with artificial gravity and no UP in the void of space, upside-down was a relative term.

"They're all yours, Ensign Yorn."

"Firing now," the young ensign replied as they hit the weapons. phaser fire lanced out from both the upper and lower saucer and from both engine pylons and from two points on the pod repeatedly as well as six quantum torpedoes from the main launcher and a dozen from the pod launchers.

Moments later all that weapons fire hit the two chariots and without much in the way of shields to protect them, they were like tissue paper in a tornado against that salvo of fire. The Hera flew between the twin blazes unscathed, the two enemies never having fired a shot.

"Excellent job, everyone. Any more system patrols on sensors?" Enalia asked, relaxing in her chair for now.

Ensign Yorn scanned the system for tactical threats and found none near them. "I'm not picking up anything, Captain."

Enalia grinned and tapped at her console to bring up the ship status. "Then for now let's standby and wait for word from the teams. Lieutenant Dox, please find us a nice hiding place for now. Lieutenant Dauntless, good job on the switch from metaphasic shields to normal shields when we went stealth. That was a wise move."

"Aye, Captain." Dox replied, looking over the instruments of the panel in front of her for a moment. "I've got a medium sized asteroid with a significant gravitational field at 118-mark-357. if we bring her into a low orbit along the southern pole region and reduce power, it should help us mask us from their sensors for a bit."

"Make it so." Enalia didn't like the waiting part, but this was where they were now. They just had to wait and see how the away teams went. As for Dox, if she had been any less of a pilot, their part of the mission wouldn't have gone as smoothly so she was very pleased with the woman's performance. She'd definitely have to consider Rita's recommendations.

"Aye, Captain." Dox replied sternly, moving the U.S.S. Hera into it's hiding place. The bridge was now eerily quiet with the pitch of battle replaced by the tension of waiting.

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

Almost an hour passed with no word from either landing party. They still had sensor feeds from the runabouts and telemetry on the away teams, but they hadn't checked in yet. Nerves were starting to fray on the bridge as they sat in hiding.

That's when an alarm went off at tactical. Ensign Yorn almost jumped out of his skin as he tapped up the readouts. "Captain, I have... Nothing? No... It's a Chariot... but it's not the same design. It looks like it's disguised as an asteroid and I think it's scavenging the debris of the ones we destroyed. I'm reading some pretty bad damage to it, as well. Life signs are... I think they're Merosian."

"Could it be the locals?" Enalia muttered. "Keep a close scan of them. I want to know where they came from and how they got here. I'd like to know who we're dealing with before we try to make contact."

Some time passed as the odd Chariot scavenged the debris fields that the USS Hera had made of the two pair of Hera's Chariots. Once they broke off and headed home, Enalia gave the order to follow them discreetly.

Keeping their distance, the Hera seemed to be completely invisible to the ship thanks to the stealth plating as they wound their way through the outer asteroid field towards a large planetoid. As they approached, a docking bay door opened long enough to let the strange Chariot inside before resealing.

"And there we have our answer." Enalia said as the scan data started coming in. "Two point seven million life signs... All Merosian. Looks like quite the colony. Open hailing frequencies, tightbeam at just the colony so we don't alert Hera's forces."

After a couple computer chirrups, there was a voice response. "Meroset Gamma Control, go ahead."

Enalia stood and straightened her uniform before replying. "I am Captain Enalia Telvan of the Federation Starship USS Hera. may I speak with the person in charge?"

There was a pregnant pause and the sound of shuffling and muffled whispering before another voice came on. "Standby." Then another pause. "Who did you say you were again?"

"My name is Captain Enalia Telvan of the starship USS Hera. We're with the United Federation of Planets." enalia spoke slower this time, just in case the UT was being difficult.

"Standby," was again the response, but this time, the comm line was cut.

Sitting back down, Enalia wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not.

This time the wait was a bit longer, but worth it as they hailed her. The signal came in with video feed this time so she had it put on the viewscreen.

"Greetings," Enalia started, smiling as she did so. "I am Captain Enalia Telvan of the..."

The young woman on the screen seemed a bit agitated, but otherwise collected. "You're Starfolk? We've been hoping you'd arrive soon. Sorry, I'm Administrator Tal'da'mira. I'm in charge of this colony, Meroset Gamma. There are still nine others, but your coming was foretold in our prophecies when the alien, Hera, claimed to be a goddess, tore down our civilization with her army, and took over our homeworld. We've been doing our best to survive on the colonies, but it hasn't been easy. We tried to face her, but she took our ships and upgraded them. We've been no match for her." She looked pleading as she spoke. "You will help us... Won't you?"

"Actually... We're already doing so." Enalia grinned brightly. This was looking to be a lot more convenient than she thought it would be. "Once we secure Hera and her temple, can you mobilize local security?"

The administrator grinned widely as she heard this news. She had been born to hear this news. "Thank you, Captain. For many, this will be a chance to set foot on their home for the first time in their lives. We owe this to you."

Thex small group had been slowly making there way to the spaceport talking care to avoid the locals and any roaming patrols of amazons. Now they hide in an ally overlooking the starport. With the TR116 eyepieces, it allowed the group to easily see through the walls so everything was visible to see.

The spaceport was rather different from what you'd think of when you'd think of a spaceport. The chariots were all sitting in lines atop a large flat marble surface with a large stone tower in the centre. A few Minotaur wandered among the chariots driving a group of and badly beaten humans who were carrying what the andorian guessed were power packs.

" Looks like they don't think anything up for the moment. The pilots are most likely in the tower. I guess the cyclopes are the repair crew though I'm pretty sure they aren't doing this of there own free will. " Thex said quilty before openly winching as one of the minotaurs drove a large hoof into the back of one of the human's legs causing into to let out a roar of pain that echoed around the city. It's guard only laughed as it kicked to make the chained gang move.

Sonak made a few calculations while observing the whole landing area and the ships resting there.

"The hardest part will be to put the communication array of the port out of service. It is rather large, with multiple antennae and on top of the control tower. But it is essential to hamper any retaliation from their part. It should also be coordinated with the crippling of their fleet. The ships themselves are an easier but a more risky target."

He pointed to the neatly aligned chariots on the tarmac.

"The ideal maneuver would be to place one photon grenade with a remote detonator under every deflector dish of each ship. This would require for someone to go stealthily and swiftly under each bow and affix one with a magnetic pad; ideally one saboteur from one side and another from the other side, meeting in the center then without pause exiting sternwise together. Once safely away, a third concealed person would detonate them remotely all at the same time and render every chariot inoperative at the same instant while covering their escape."

He looked at the Andorian with a raised eyebrow.

"This is what the Klingon proverb refers to as: a thousand throats can be cut in one night by a running man with a knife."

Duran-Yeager regarded the other two members of her party in silence. "How do we get in there?, plant the charges and get out without being seen?" she inquired in a soft tone of voice.

" Good question. I don't see anyway without getting detected. Though..." Thex said as she looked back at the slaves and their guards. " Maybe if we get a distraction... though I don't like the idea of using slave labor as a distraction." She said looking at the poor beaten creatures.

"The runabout's transporters seem the obvious mean," Sonak reminded them but then added; "however, it's beam would most probably be detected and bring them to alert status. We need to draw their attention away to something like a concerning yet natural phenomenon that would not make them think of an assault ongoing against them; like a brushfire or landslide on the other side of this installation..."

" That could work. " the Andorian replied looking up at the hill. " Do you think we could beam one of the probes into that and set it to broadcast as a level of vibration that could cause a landslide? " She asked her team.

Duran-Yeager raised an eyebrow. "That might work. But if you juice up the probe, there is a risk you might destabilize the magma chamber in the volcano." Duran-Yeager commented quietly. "If that mountain blows its top, we automatically complete our mission but the cost will be way too high," she explained. "Another option is a half dozen photon grenades deployed to the crater of the volcano and then we detonate then, make it look like an eruption is starting." she sighed. "But we need to know exactly what this vulcano is doing at all levels, we may cause the very thing we're trying to avoid...."

Thex nodded as she began to open her coms to the Thor. It only took a short while before the results came back. " Well, it looks like she's in a dormant state. Gases in the main chamber seem low enough so we could blow it up without causing an eruption."

Duran-Yeager suddenly smiled. "Excellent," she commented. "Okay, the trick will be transporting ordinance in without it being crushed upon reintegration." the small female lifted a hand to her jawline as she considered it. "the ordinance will need to be small otherwise it will cause an eruption either way." she turned to Sonak when she realized suddenly that she didn't know how he liked to be addressed. Some had their own preferences. "Sir, could we generate a small lava surge as a distraction without a large ash surge. We don't need to generate a pyroclastic flow.."

The Vulcan examined the target area while thinking out loud.

"It is rather difficult to have one without the other. But ashes will go up and lava will flow down if we can manage to open a properly angled fissure high enough and vertical enough. Under gravity, the smoke and ash would go straight up and mostly straight down while the lava would flow downside."

He looked back at their team commander.

"We don't have to create a major catastrophe that could endanger friends and foes alike. What we need is just a diversion; something sufficient to grasp their attention long enough for us to get into position for the real destructive operation."

He showed her his tricorder readings.

"There is here near the top on this side a small crack already exposing bubbling lava to the sky. If we discreetly bring a probe in this angle and from this covered direction at a low altitude, it's engine explosion once in the molten rock should be enough. The lava flow will then follow the incline towards those hangars over there. At the very least, they should all look this way just long enough for our plan to get into motion."

Thex nodded as she began programming the necessary data into her wrist computer. " Okay. That should do it. As soon as it hits be prepared to move. " She said looking at her team before they would have to run. It wasn't long before the probe smashed into the volcano throwing up a cluster of rock and lava. True to the vulcans word the lava began rolling down the hill.

It had an imminent effect as a large number of amazons appeared from several of the buildings and began running towards the hanger.

" Move." Thex said quilty indicating that she would take the centre line of chariots.

"Yessir," Duran-Yeager answered quietly, she selected the first line of chariots as she began breaking out the items she knew that she would need to get this assignment completed with a minimum of fuss, she moved silently and swiftly as she attached the first warhead to the location she had committed to memory. Going about her work in silence.

From the completely opposite end of the line of ships, Sonak with the same hasty care affixed the charges he was carrying to the base of every deflector dish, his keen vulcan senses on the alert. His own swift run would bring him to Duran-Yeager right under the chariot in the exact middle of the resting fleet, using the front bulk of the ship to hide him and his shadow. The rumble of the lava flow easily covered the little noise his soft-soled boots were making.

But there was still a statistical probability of being detected despite all their precautions and successful diversion. Hence both his haste and his caution. his communicator was open so that Thex could alert them of any incoming danger they would fail to be aware of.

It was now a question of minutes.

Thex had taken the center line and was slowly making her way along the line making sure every ship got a bomb and a tag from her wrist mount. Halfway along her journey, she froze as another bellow from the minotaurs echoed around the shipyard.

Pocking her head around the ship she noted they were only a few chariots down from her. " Guys can you cover me whilst I try and get past these guys. I don't know how powerful the smell of a minotaur is." She whispered into her coms.

Duran-Yeager meanwhile had her rifle out as she had taken careful aim at the Minotaur's head. "Copy, I got him." she said quietly, as she slid into a small corner next to one of the chariots. "He so much as looks at us funny, he's gonna die." she muttered softly.

"I will try something, Lieutenant Commander; probabilities are low but acceptable," Sonak then whispered back into his communicator.

He was barely a few meters from one Minotaur looking confused by the sudden agitation and ground shaking. Sonak put his hands on the ground, his eyes focused on the back of the head of the man-beast as if he was going to drill a hole through it. His fingers moved slowly on the artificial ground covering of the tarmac like pale, sluggish spiders.

Back in his own universe, he could have projected his thoughts directly into the mind of the creature. He could even have thrown a pebble with his limited telekinesis to distract it. But in this reality, his psionics were no better than those of any Vulcan. Yet, his training was that of a kolinarh master. That is what he was now counting on.

With as much concentration as his decades-long disciplined mind could muster, he search and found the presence of the monstrous guard through their shared contact with the ground. Through that physical link, Sonak projected one single idea into the mind of the man-bull; a very sound, reasonable, obvious idea.

"All must help."

Fortunately, the mind of a minotaur was very unsophisticated; and the will of a slave creature made to serve was quite weak.

The monster flicked his long ears, shook his enormous horned head then blinked it's tiny black eyes and sniffed with his wide flaring nostrils. With a bellow and a rough gesture, the minotaur called his friends to him and lead them at a run towards the threatened hangars.

Thex waited till the creatures and their slaves had moved on before moving. She said nothing but gave a thumbs up to the Vulcan before she continued her task. She was around halfway done with arming the explosives and tagging the craft.

Duran-Yeager moved from her hiding spot in silence as she slid her rifle onto her back before she went back to tagging the chariots with the explosive charges she had remaining. Normally Duran-Yeager was a social butterfly and often she would make world-weary jokes but now wasn't the time for it. A smile appeared as she placed the last charge on the row of chariots she was tending to. "Row three is done. Moving to assist with row one." she commented in calm, measured tones.

Thex wasn't long behind Duran when she finished her row. She took a defensive position behind one of the chariots and waited for the vulcan to finish his row.

The Vulcan confirmed his own work later. His psionic diversion had delayed him a moment but he had managed to place all his charges well hidden under the deflector of each vessel in his own row.

"Row one complete. Proceeding to last row one from eastern quarter and moving towards you. Based on our current progress, we should meet at the center in five point seven minutes; mark."

Following his own signal, he moved to his extremity in the final row and attached his first charge to the chariot resting there. With the minotaur guard now away to help with the incoming disaster, he could proceed more swiftly as there were much less risk to be seen and heard.

Thex noted her team had finished so without a word she indicated for them to move back towards there original hiding position. Hopefully, they wouldn't be spotted and could be out of her before the fireworks started.

Duran-Yeager moved off, away from the chariot she had just booby-trapped, she was heading for Thex's position in silence, her footfalls made no noise as her short legs ate the distance to her destination quickly, she nodded to the Andorian in disguise as she reached the taller female.

Sonak got to them a moment later, his tricorder flashing silently as he reported the readings to them.

"All charges in place and active, ready for detonation. I have scanned the deflector array of those ships and the explosion will cause damage between ninety-four point seven to ninety-six point three percent of the whole array. It will be impossible to use them or to restore them in any other way than a complete replacement of the whole assembly; which will take no less than fity-three point forty-seven hours by an expert team of technicians for each ship."

He then showed them both on the small screen of his tricorder the schematics he had recorded during his sabotage run.

"Without a deflector dish, those ships will be destroyed by the friction of an impulse speed take-off; if they take a slower pace of ascension on thrusters only,the first micro meteorite they will meet in orbit will destroy them just as quickly through sudden decompression. If they activate shields to compensate, this will severely deplete their energy reserves before going into combat... and the smallest weakening of them will again expose them to the initial danger. In summary, we will have effectively grounded her fleet... as soon as you activate your detonator, Lieutenant Commander."

He was just finishing when their conmunicator demanded their attention with a message from the Hera's XO.

"Have reached main temple. Converge as you are able, bring the Thor. No resistance encountered thus far. Pressing on to temple now. "

The Vulcan looked at the resting vessels.

"I think now would be a good time."

Thex nodded as she drew the detonator and making sure her team was clear she pressed the trigger. For a seconed, there was nothing, before with a bang that blew the tiles of nearby buildings the explosives went off. Each chariot buckled as the deflector was obliterated as well as a good portion of the ships.

Thex grinned as they kept moving. " Good job guys." she said as they moved towards the temple.

When the tram had docked, Rita Paris had expected heavy resistance, but there was none. Checking her ammo feed, she insured everything was in working order. Keeping the visor HUD interface in place, her helmet remained retracted so that her all-too human face and head could be seen. The helmet might provide some protection against the amazons or head injury should some great brute send her sprawling. But the gold-clad commander felt it more important for her features to be seen by her landing party, as well as the pending diplomatic negotiations.

The fact that she hadn’t felt any explosions from deep within the mountain did not reassure her. While she had confidence that the other half of the away team had accomplished their mission at the spaceport, the infiltration team had yet to blow the generators, so that meant that Rita, Doc Dael and Ms. Malana were up here in a very vulnerable position. While the locals were rioting and not feeding the goddess power, Hera could still draw from her generators, and likely produce some horrific effects.

In the temple now. Those generators better blow very soon, Sam, or your favorite first officer and ship’s surgeon are liable to suffer a fate worse than death. Paris tapped out on her wrist comm. Here’s hoping Clemens is just working some dramatic timing with those charges and he’s not hung up. He'd better blow those generators.

There was a moment of debate when Paris considered slinging her rifle onto her back, but if there was an ambush of the forces Hera had pulled back to her throneroom, Rita was the only armed combatant, and she needed to be prepared. Cowboy diplomacy was often talk of peace with a phaser in the hand, so in this case she chose to move to ready arms, holding the rifle in her right hand while supporting it with the left, which had grown considerably weaker since she had been injured by a harpy, then fired the big slugthrower at Leda with that hand.

“Get some scans, people. No sense in walking in blind,” Paris ordered, stalling for time. Hera would know they were here, and she wasn’t exactly known for her patience. But stalling with scans would give them much needed intel as well as holding off a little longer to give the rest of the crew a chance to catch up.

Whirring commenced as Asa scanned the area with their tricorder. The results had the young person frowning, eyebrows furrowed, as they moved their unoccupied right hand to fidget nervously with the various items on their belt. “I’m reading about 100 life forms in the main chamber, ma’am. They are producing a considerable amount of psionic energy too, and I think we know what that is feeding into. If we see a psionic power-transformer, shoot it. I would also be suspicious of a throne- we know others used that in the past.”

After the sound of the doctors last sentence a chorus of Minotaur screams echoed from somewhere deep in the mountain.

“There is that too,” was all Asa said in response, instinctively moving to stand closer to Paris in order to seek comfort.

Malana was scanning as well, with one of her three tricorders. "I'm detecting nearly two hundred stone based life forms inside the temple and below it. I'm also picking up the counselor's life signs in what I assume to be the dungeon."

I'll be damned. Here's to Jurot- she might not have talked Hera down, but she managed to not get killed. Good on ya, Counselor.

“You two stay behind me- I’m the ranking officer.” So if something awful is going to happen to someone, maybe she’ll be content to just off the mouthy one Paris added silently to herself, hoping that she sounded more confident than she actually was in truth. This was not a time for the faint at heart, but to be bold. Which she very much did not feel, and was now hoping against hope for those explosions down below. No inspirational speech this time, no confidence builder for the young doctor. If Clemens and his team didn't come through soon, all three of them were going to suffer awful fates. if that was the case, Rita Paris refused to sugar coat it.

“Now into the lioness den we go.”

High white marbled columns shot through with veins of lapis lazuli, gold and silver towered 30 meters above them, upholding a buttressed roof whose principles were still in use across the galaxy. Advancing past the outer columns which lined the outer patea of the temple, walls plated in copper which had been polished and shined to near-reflective quality greeted the would-be liberators.

As they entered, a pair of great double doors that swung in easily at their approach, the mountain itself seemed to shake, and in more ways than explosively. In fact, it seemed that the very land itself was upset. Malana had another of her tricorders out and scanning immediately. "I'm detecting a significant drop in ambient poly-dimensional energy levels."

"Pretend the last science class I took was 140 years ago Miss Malana. What does that mean?" Paris asked as she scanned about visually and using the suit's scanners in healthy paranoia. Tabbing the controls on the TRC116C2 through her Heads Up Display in her visor, the outtatime officer prepped the transporter and the range finder, while loading a plasma grenade. Weaponizing transporters was Sonak's idea that she had rejected. But desperate times might call for an ace in the hole.

About halfway through the double doors, Asa stopped to fully remove their helmet and cover their ears with their hands. They took a tricorder out and completed a quick scan of themself. "The psionic energy in here is...deafening, for lack of a better word. My people lost most of their empathic abilities long ago, but it's loud enough in here for me to feel it." With that said, the young doctor screwed their face in determination and replaced the helmet on their head.

"Only way out is through though, so might as well get this over with," they concluded.

"Sometimes 'only human' seems to be a blessing in this universe," Paris observed to the functionally immortal El Aurian and the living granite Ashravena shipmates beside her. "Stay close, but be ready to scatter on my command."

The main hall had been almost completely cleared of Hera's followers and only one of her generals and two marble men remained at her side. Unfortunately, this general was a heavily armored minotaur that made the others look like children. Standing at just over three meters tall, he stood taller than even Hera's over inflated ego of herself, if her gold and jewel encrusted throne was any indication of things. Setting the lock on the attached system of her TRC116C2, Rita paris hoped she wouldn't have to use it.

Open hand of diplomacy versus business end of a phaser, and here you come with both, Rita Paris. C'mon, make this work.

Stepping out at that military marching pace of hers, the ancient astronaut of the far-flung future addressed the goddess as she approached, projecting her voice through the comm unit on her wrist. "Hera. I'm Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, of the starship USS Hera. You've declared war on most of the civilized galaxy and slaughtered our diplomats, so we thought we'd try to parley one more time. Speaking in a language you understand. Prevalent wisdom is that you're too dangerous to live, and should be slain. But I'm wanting to give talking it over just ooooone more chance." Paris stopped, a good 20 meters from the throne, rifle at the ready but not pointed at anyone yet.

"What do you say, Hera? Parley?"

The goddess Hera was staring at her hands as she sat in her throne. "I thought you all weak and nothing but talk. But here now, you stand before me, truly the conquerors of old. You offer me a laurel or a sword, and have torn my kingdom asunder before the choice may be made, just as your ancestors did."

Looking up, Hera had a glint of happiness in her eyes. "And yet, it is women that were strongest in this endeavor at every turn. This you have done without hubris or pride. Knowingly or not, you have done me a great honor."

She then turned grim and offered a warning. "Whatever fate you decide is best fitting for me though, there is a far greater threat that lurks on the horizon. Those that gave birth to my people are coming back. I see now that they are behind our return as well as other disturbances I've sensed."

Standing and posing dramatically, sparks danced at Hera's fingertips. "So shall we dance for the honor of my people? Or will you shackle me and sentence me to a slow death? I have enough left in me to put up a worthy fight, I think."

Gave birth to her people- what, the titans? Cronus? Uranus? Later, Paris- make the call here and now.

The woman clearly wanted a fight, and Rita had the sneaky suspicion that she wasn't going to be very happy without one. She wouldn't be swayed by words or reason- that rage had been palpable, and all of this was, after all, about a woman scorned. Oddly, the woman reminded her just a bit of the Captain, which gave Rita a clue as to what might work. Maybe a combination of both scenarios.

"A slow death isn't what we had in mind," the supercentenarian space explorer explained as she began pacing a circle toward Hera, but giving the goddess room to circle as well if she wished to square off. "You're going to cooperate with us, because we need allies in this conflict. And one doesn't live as long as you have without the guts to rebuild again after a defeat. You're not fooling me, you still want to live."

"Every being wants to live." Hera started a slow circle with Rita, leaving just enough distance for a sword fight, if it came to it. "Even the immortal fear death. As for helping you, if you had worshiped me... But I see now that that is no longer in your nature. your kind has grown well past lambs in need of shepherds."

Forming a platinum gladius from seemingly thin air, Hera brandished it at Rita. "A duel then. If you defeat me, I'll rebuild this world to the way it was before and help you on your terms. If I defeat you, your ship and crew are mine to do with as I please."

The eyes of the ancient astronaut narrowed. That did sound like precisely the sort of heroics that appealed to her, it was true. Which probably meant that Hera was setting her up. Bringing the rifle barrel up, though still at the hip, Rita watched her scanners to keep an eye on her 'back' as it were. "I'm afraid I don't trust that deal, ma'am. I've got three parties of dead diplomats who jumped at the first chance, too. Stand down. As a philosopher of Earth once observed, I don't wanna kill you and you don't wanna be dead."

The corners of Hera's mouth twitched just the slightest as one of the statue men fired their stone beam from their eyes straight at Rita.

It was definitely a trap.

Thankfully, Rita's last orders were followed to the letter and Malana and Asa were right next to her. Malana was able to interpose herself in the path of the beam just as it went off, preventing Rita from being turned into stone. Shaking off the resulting layer of stone dust that the beam caused her granite body to form, Malana turned to glare at the now wide eyed marble men.

That's when the minotaur attacked, swinging his giant double sided axe down on top of the stone-faced woman. Malana withstood it as well, though this time not without injury. She was able to go into a pillarbox stance, but the force of the blow, which would have cleaved any normal person in half, drove her into the marble floor several inches, and chipped at her hands, severing several of her fingers. The minotaur pressed down on the mighty weapon, keeping Malana pinned.

Hera, for her part, seeing this feat of strength, lowered her sword and stood there aghast. "Holy ambrosia... Who carved you, woman?"

In over her head with a trick or two up her sleeve, an outclassed underdog who wasn't even supposed to be here, Rita Paris realized that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

"Stand down!" she shouted at the enormous roaring behemoth of a minotaur, with fists the size of her torso. Glaring at her, he snorted, raised his fist and pounded onto Ahreva Malana, driving her a bit deeper into the temple floor as crumbles fell from her durable hide.

"Don't make me kill you!" Paris shouted as beams of one of the stone men tracked her, closing in on her.

The minotaur general who stood by the side of Hera, the most glorious beast in her menageries, roared at Rita Paris in challenge. A great and terrible sound that very clearly marked the great beast as an alpha predator who was informing his next victim of their impending demise.

Firing from the hip, the presets on the complex TRV116C2 rifle would do the rest as the round fired, then beamed itself into the skull of the massive Minotaur. While she had been loathe to do quite a few things today, the massive beast pounding on the woman who'd saved her life made crossing this particular rubicon easy for the transporter-phobic Paris. The great general Minotaur likely had considerable external defenses, but Rita surmised correctly that bypassing them with the particularly horrific capacity of this weapon would achieve devastating results. The transporter lock she'd set when they had walked in now paid off as an alloy round, which simulated the legendary metals which could affect the invulnerable beasts did its job, as the back of the roaring behemoth's skull exploded outward in a fine mist.

Dum dum rounds were a new innovation to the weapon, but Rita was glad she'd asked for the simple modification.

"Doc, move! Scatter and don't let the marble men tag you!" Rita called out and she herself went into motion, skirting the combat arena to try to draw a bead on the stone statues that sought to convert others to that form. After all, she suspected she might have one more shot before the angry goddess closed with her and made her rifle a moot element of this combat.

The doctor dropped to the ground and kept rolling, staying low and out of sight until they reached a row of columns. Dael disappeared behind a column and began climbing up to get out of the way of any earth bound creatures. Thankful for the strength the suit and the stim shot provided, Asa lept between column to column like a flying squirrel, never staying the same place for too long.

Hera was even more dumbfounded as her prized beast gave one strangled gurgling roar as it's eyes rolled up into what was left of its head, and it fell over, now quite dead. On top of that, Malana's feet were now so embedded in the floor that she was unable to move as it fell on top of her. With a squeal, she was pinned, having given her first exclamatory noise in her life.

The underslung grenade launcher came into play now as Rita launched a concussion grenade at the living statues, having no desire to join them. In theory this would knock them over, possibly incapacitating them, perhaps even without shattering them. But given that they had already tried to petrify her, she wasn't in the mood to have to explain to the captain how the ship's surgeon had become immobile and stony. Strategically speaking, the Starfleet siren turned amateur commando perhaps should have stayed more focused on the primary antagonist, rather than trying to cover her shipmates.

Asa sensed they were far enough out of the line of sight that no one saw as they shimmied down the column they were on and ducked low to the ground. Covering the red crosses with some dirt from the ground, and rubbing more dirt across the whitest parts of their suit, the doctor made their way around the outskirts of the temple, sneaking up behind where Hera stood.

They watched as Rita and Malana took on their attackers, frustration leaking through every pore that they could not do more to aid. The doctor saw Hera's throne, sitting large and imposing, and very much unguarded.

The doctor drew their phaser, firing it full blast directly at the base of the throne.

Here's hoping this is where the power transformer is, or I'm going to be about as dead as I can be. the doctor thought to themself, and braced for a concussive blast or a quick death.

Two things happened simultaneously.

Hera's throne exploded into molten shards of gold, gems, and electronics.

Both marble men were turned into gravel by the concussion grenade that landed between them.

The resounding explosion that rung throughout the entire great hall was almost deafening and made even Hera's ears ring as she dropped her gladius and covered her ears in a silent scream. Or it seemed to be silent as she dropped to her knees and fell to her side. Her powers had definitely been broken and she looked... Less... Than she was as she now lay still on the ground, either in emotional or physical shock.

The ringing in her ears was definitely precluding any sense of hearing. But the cracked visor was still intact on Paris' face, and though there were bursts of static from the damaged interface, she sent out the command- REPORT.

From Doc Dael amongst some rubble of columns behind her, a thumbs up icon appeared. Malana did the same, though she was still trapped underneath the corpse of the Minotaur. Rolling over to get onto one knee, Paris fell over the first time she tried. Snapping her helmet shut, she flooded her suit with 40% oxygen and breathed deeply for ten seconds before snapping the helmet back open. Rising to one knee, she stood, though unsteadily at first. Taking a moment to orient herself, the adventurous astronaut picked her way carefully to the dead general she'd murdered before he could beat the stone-bodied scientist to rubble.

While Paris regretted the loss of the minotaur, she had traded his life for Malana's. In that choice she had no cause to regret her decision, although weaponizing transporters was a moral conundrum she was going to have to examine later. Stepping up next to the corpse, she maneuvered under one arm and put her legs to work, hauling the dead bovine off the traumatized civilian. Tossing the body unceremoniously to the side of the stone scientist, Rita could hear him hit the ground, which meant her hearing was slowly returning. Patting Malana on the shoulder, Paris offered her a thumbs up and waited for one in return.

Malana blinked slowly, focusing on Rita. She would need at least a week of sleep after this. Raising one hand, some dust and granite chips fell from her as she flexed her remaining fingers. As she gave a thumbs up sign, her hand cracked a bit more and her thumb popped off and fell right on her face, causing her to wince. She was still fine enough though - it's not like she bled.

After checking in with Paris, Doc Dael allowed themself 10 seconds to recover before deciding it was time to get up and face the destruction they had wrought. Their armor was covered in melted gold spots and craters caused by falling debris. The HUD read that it was at 47 percent efficiency and falling fast.

First things first, stand up. Then go be a doctor.

The doctor sat up with a bit of difficulty, and saw one leg was pinned under what used to be a support column. Even with the enhanced strength from the suit, that leg was just not budging. Asa wiggled their toes a bit, relieved to feel an aching sensation that indicated that although bruised, movement in their leg did not appear to be completely compromised. They scooted around for a moment, and ascertained it wasn't their leg that was stuck...it was the leg of the armor. In a few awkward movements, Asa managed to reach around a detach the legs from their armor and wiggle out from underneath the pillar.

The med bag was thrown to the other side of the room, but appeared to still be intact. Asa took a quick scan to make sure no more life forms were incoming, and then limped over to the med bag. Sitting next to it on a nearby chunk of rock, the young physician took a thorough scan of their vitals and grimaced slightly.

I've got about 12 hours before this is going to catch up with me...no point in burdening anyone else with the knowledge that I'm slowly bleeding out through a collapsed ventricle and spleen injury. If I can just keep going...well the EMH can patch me up as soon as we get home. And it's not like the other two can do anything for me, but I can for them

Decision made Asa, took a stim booster shot to give themself enough energy to see things through to the end and stood up. What was left of the armor was falling apart, the loss of the legs seemed to have cause the rest of it to decide to give up too. Keeping only the visor on, the doctor discarded the body plates in careful, deliberate movements; Asa was not willing to part with all defensive and offensive options though, and made sure their phaser and medical tricorder were at hand, and picked up the med bag and hypos, emptying the contents of their belt pouches into the now-overflowing med bag. They made their way to the two crew members and fallen goddess. Without thinking, the doctor stopped at the fallen form of Hera and asked levelly, "Do I have to stun you, or will you be a good prisoner?"

Their posture indicated they were hoping Hera would move, so they could have the satisfaction of stunning this being that would presume to claim deity.

Hera, for her part, was suffering a massive psionic energy feedback shock and was in no condition to even respond, let alone continue fighting. She didn't even hear the Doctor pose the question, she was so out of it. The most resistance she could put up right now was drooling on the floor.

"Hey, hey, easy Doc," Paris stepped over to put her hand on the physician's phaser hand, lowering the weapon. Yawning to try to pop her ears, Paris came around to kneel down next to the fallen goddess. "The mark of a civilized society is the quality of their mercy, particularly to a defeated foe. She's down- now she's your patient. I'll keep an eye on her, you see what you can do for Malana, then come treat Hera. Understood?" Those big blue eyes searched those of the young doctor, seeking understanding in them.

A shuddering breath racked the doctors entire form. The day started with almost losing Paris in a transporter accident, then viewing the horrors section 31 inflicted on civilians in order to best this monster, then viewing firsthand what Hera did to her own people, and finally the doctor had been forced to both kill and face their own mortality.

In short, today sucked. And it was threatening to catch up to the doctor.

Asa turned so no one would see the tears streaming down their face. After wiping them away hurriedly, Asa turned to face Paris.

"Understood maam. But I'm checking you first since you are already here. "

Their tricorder whirred at a slightly higher pitch than usual. Possibly not the best sign for the longevity remaining the battle beleaguered device.

"You are made of some strong stuff, Commander Paris. Burst left ear drum, some scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. Do you need a booster?"

In truth, Rita felt like her entire body was a bruise with a few pulled muscles, her shoulder was still killing her where that harpy had hauled her into the sky and the doc sounded like they were down a well with that ringing still going strong. But the all-too human heroine offered a lopsided smile to the young immortal, and placed her hand on their shoulder.

"You did a lot of good out there today, Doc, and you saved a lot of lives. Try to take solace in that." Patting the ship's surgeon's shoulder, Paris tapped at the wrist comm she'd added to her armor that she'd been quite pleased with, sending a message to the other away teams.

--Mission accomplished, Hera down. Report--

As she waited for the reply, Paris opened a channel. "Lieutenant Commander Paris to Hera, do you copy?"

=/\= "Hera here, go ahead," came the voice of one Captain Enalia Telvan through the comms.

"The revolution is well underway, and I have one very unconscious goddess in custody, Captain. Waiting for the spaceport team to report..." Paris paused as eruptions of explosions going off one after the other in a stacatto beat as the numerous charges planted at the spaceport began exploding like firecrackers in the distance. "Correction, spaceport team seems to have succeeded as well as Team Selune. Details as they report in- meanwhile, what are your orders, Captain?"

You could almost hear the sigh of relief coming from Enalia at that report. "It seems the Merosians had several colonies that Hera tried to wipe out as well when she drove them back to the bronze age. We've made contact with representatives with one of them and will be helping them reunite with their homeworld. As for Hera, she's to be taken into custody. Her forces will be detained by the Merosians that will be arriving soon. Once the area is secured, come home."

"Aye aye, Captain. Paris out." Kneeling down beside the unconscious goddess, Paris refrained from touching the entity which still registered some intense energies on various wavelengths whose patterns were beyond the throwback's training to interpret. But as she knelt using the combat rifle that had saved their lives so often today as a cane, Paris spoke to the sleeping goddess.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, ma'am, but I'm glad you're still with us. Maybe now you'll see the value of cooperation instead of destruction. At least I hope so." Sitting down, cradling the rifle across her lap, Paris studied the reports as they came in, and smiled.

Two hours. They had been given two hours to save a world, and neutralize a goddess. They had done so with minimal loss of life, and the goddess in question was soon to be a captive, not a corpse. No Starfleet personnel had been lost. It hadn't been bloodless, but the crew of the USS Hera had empowered a world to throw off the shackles of tyranny.

For the crew of the USS Hera, it was a pretty good day.

They had been waiting for a few minutes in the S31 Transport Lab with two security guards at the ready, Avandar Jurot in the transport booth, and Yeoman Ila Dedjoy standing at the ready to seal it up and pop the counselor down to Hera's temple as soon as she was given the order.

The stark white room was a contrast from the rest of the ship to be sure, but the fact that the design was so different from a normal transporter, using a sealed booth rather than a pad, should have been enough to tip off even the least technically inclined that this wasn't a normal transporter.

Suddenly the lights tinted red and the call came across the comms to start the mission.

Nodding to the counselor, Ila offered her one last bit of advice. "Good luck. Side effects may include nausea, vomiting, disorientation, ear popping... Oh and hold your breath or your lungs might collapse. Ready to go meet Hera?"

"Yes. Wish me luck!" She took a deep breath, and held it.

Avender had been meditating a lot the past 18 hours, erecting thought shields and... searching. The conversation she had with Lt. Commander Paris rattled her. What WAS wrong with her? It was almost like... there was something else. Searching her consciousness, she'd discovered several anomalies and "caps." If she survived, she would have to discuss her findings with Starfleet medical- she would need a Betazoid, Vulcan, or...

"Good luck," Ila replied. Sealing the chamber, she reached over and hit the activation button, filling the chamber with the glowing particles, sending the woman instantly down to the temple.

The room disappeared, and slowly Avender saw the...ohhhh... she felt her legs give way. She was on her hands and knees. The world spun and she vomited. The crewman was absolutely right. When her head stopped spinning, she finally looked around her.

Ila had been spot on and Avandar was now in the main audience chamber of Hera's temple. In fact, Hera was sitting not ten meters away, watching her with wide eyes. The marble lined walls and columns were a testament to her vanity, as were the scattered marble and stone statues. The fact that some were in various poses of terror indicated that they were not at one time made of stone, however... To either side of Hera were her generals - a Minotaur, several Amazons, a Harpy, and a pair of Greek robed statues.

Avender turned toward the Goddess, remaining on her knees and bowed her head. "Hail Hera, Queen of the gods! Goddess of Marriage and Family, Queen of Heaven, and Patron of Argos! please pardon my frail mortal weakness. I humbly come before your magnificence as an emissary of the United Federation of Planets, and bring you greetings. I am Avender Jurot of Betazoid, and I seek an audience with your magnificence."

Avender kept her mind as empty of thoughts as possible, while attempting to sense the emotions of Hera and her retinue.

Hera stood and took a slow step towards the woman before her. When she spoke, the very air vibrated with intensity and flecks of marble fell from the surrounding temple structures. "Do not trifle with me, servant of the Titans! I can see full well whom you serve as clearly as the very temple around us!"

Holding out one hand, Hera made a gripping motion, pulling Jurot closer to her feet. "Tell me your true reason for being here! Tell me why the scent of Gaia lingers on you, so!"

Avender tried and failed to control her fear. "I am a representative of the United Federation of Planets," she said as evenly as she could, trying to sound like she was in control of herself. "I serve Starfleet, Great one! I know of no Titans. I speak the truth, your Magnificence!"

The Betazoid felt Hera inside her head, and decided to counter the Goddess by attempting to connect...

And that's when it went even further south. With that connection, Hera knew all she needed to within a few seconds, the Goddess's mind racing through the mortal's like acidic fire through a dry field of gunpowder.

With a burst of light from Hera's eyes, the power of the Titans was stripped from the counselor. Hera's voice was more calm and soft now that she knew the truth behind the woman before her. "So you were a pawn in all of this. Be at ease, child. You have brought me something to think on so you will be a guest here for a time."

Avender screamed from the pain before mercifully blacking out.

Some time later...

The room that Avandar had been placed in was small, but somewhat comfortable, considering the standards of living for the planet as a whole. The bed had a cover and there was a thin blanket and something that passed as a pillow. There was even a small table and chair. The door was a solid wood number with bars in the window though, and the walls were cold, grey stone, so it wasn't entirely inviting.

Add to that the sounds of fighting in the distance, the occasional roaring of a large beast, and the cold air and it definitely seemed like the VIP quarters in a dungeon.

The Betazoid felt a strange emptiness, as well as a dull ache in her head. How in the Galaxy did she end up here? The last thing she knew, she was aboard the Nobel, recovering from... what happened? No wait- she was...

Why couldn't she remember?

Avender tried reaching out with her mind, and found that she couldn't. All she felt was misery, all around her, threatening to overwhelm her. She tried to let her training take over, and stood up, just to collapse back to the stone floor. She noticed the front of her uniform had some dried vomit on it.

Come on Avender, you can do this! You're in Starfleet, girl! Get it together! she thought. She tried to stand again, reaching out telepathically, and felt a stabbing pain inside her mind, as if something had been torn out. She sank back to the floor. Training be damned, she started to cry.

After some time, someone came by and slid a tray under her door with some bread, a waterskin, and some sort of porridge. "Eat up. You'll need your strength," said an old woman on the other side of the door. "Word is that the Starfolk have finally come. You know what that means."

Starfolk? Starfleet? Doesn't this woman know I'm Starfleet? "Who are the 'Starfolk"?" Avender asked through the door. The Betazoid also tried to read the emotions of the person addressing her.

"They're the ones that the Prophet Meowlith says will come from the one true Hera and cast down the false god on the mountain," the old woman muttered, pressing herself up against the door, trying to peek in through the barred window. "You don't know this? Only one of the..." As the woman saw the strange clothes on the strange woman, she gasped. "My lady..."

Avender was confused. She had no telepathy, and all she read from the woman was confusion as well.

"Yes? You were saying? Does my appearance frighten you?" the Betazoid asked.

"Please forgive me. You dress as the Prophet does. I did not know you were one of the Starfolk. If you like, I'll bring you better food immediately." The old woman shuffled a bit, making ready to leave.

"Please, don't leave!" Avender said, just a bit too anxiously. "Yes, I'm A member of Starfleet, but I don't know where I am, or how I got here. Can you help me?"

Then, the lost Betazoid realized Wait- her Prophet is in a Starfleet uniform? How... who would violate the Prime Directive like that? What kind of place is this?

"I don't have the keys... Only the minotaur captain has them. But I can stay and talk with you. I'm sorry, but I don't know how you got here. You're one of the few prisoners that actually survives the she-beast's wrath." The old woman shuffled closer to the door and leaned in so she could speak softly and still be heard. "Will you help us regain our lost technologies? The false Hera took away our star chariots over a generation ago and no one has heard from the outer colonies since then. I have family on Meroset Gamma."

Ok, Avender, pull yourself together. "What's your name?" she said. "Mine is Avender."

"My name is Mira, great one," the woman replied. "I was named after my great grandmother. She was on the solar research teams so long ago. She thinks we've forgotten our past, our heritage, but we haven't. She may have taken our technology, but we've passed our science and knowledge down to our children. You can't destroy what you learn."

"Who is this 'false God' you speak of? Is she the one who rules this planet?" the Betazoid asked.

"Mmhmm, Hera. She took over and kicked us back to the bronze age." The old woman chuckled softly as she leaned on the door. "You're definitely not from Meroset. You'd know all this if you were. Definitely Starfolk..."

That was when a rather loud and annoyed bull noise could be heard not far off. "Go on! Get lost! Go feed the other prisoners, hag!" Came the guttural speech of something beastly as the woman rushed off in fear. Stomping his way to the door, the Minotaur Captain pressed his head to the barred window to check on Jurot. "Hmph... Planning to escape? If you try, you'll be my dinner, little calf! You might be tasty on a spit!" With that, he stomped off laughing.

Time passed. While Mira didn't return, there was an earthquake, which was a bit terrifying to experience in a small cell. Then there was silence for a bit, before the distant sounds of an argument were heard, followed by a bellowing roar that quickly faded. That was when a tall human woman with short blonde hair stepped into view. Upon her face she wore a cracked visor, while her form was clad in battered and dented armor that was still somewhat metallic yellow on the hardplates that were still intact.

"Hello, Counselor. You ready to get outta here?" the officer with an antique Starfleet starburst on her chest asked as she drew her antique phaser, which looked like a pistol rather than a hand vacuum. "Might want to stand clear for safety's sake."

Avender moved quickly away from the door, relieved and confused at the same time. Questions raced through her mind. This person knows me? What is happening? Why does this person have an antique phaser and chevron? Despite that, her Starfleet training took hold. "Clear!" she said loudly.

The simple lock mechanism melted easily under the phaser's onslaught, and the stranger holstered her phaser and managed to wrench the cell door open. Peering inside, the woman's face wore a surprised smile. "Are you okay? She didn't hurt you or give you a tail or something, did she?"

Avender smiled back. "I'm well, if a bit confused. I'm Ensign Avender Jurot, Assistant Counselor, Hospital ship USS Nobel. I have no idea where I am, or how I got here."

Those blonde brows both rose in surprise, and the young woman took an appraising look at the counselor. Extending her hand a bit warily, a half-smile, half frown formed.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, of the starship USS Hera. You're on Meroset 347, sobriquet Hera's Planet. You insisted on beaming down to parley with Hera, an ancient galactic power, despite what she'd done to our diplomatic delegates. However that went, she apparently locked you down here." Paris scanned the area, making sure there wasn't an evil duplicate or something in a nearby cell.

Avender sensed that the armored blonde was telling the truth. She smiled and took the offered hand. "I insisted? So we've met? The last thing I remember was being in Sickbay 3 aboard the Nobel, recovering from Azyek VI. A doctor I'd never seen before came over to my bed, and then I woke up in this cell with a blinding headache." She suddenly seemed so tired. "Where do we go now, Commander?" I hope I can figure out what happened if we get out of here alive.

Those piercing blue eyes studied the counselor for a long moment, as the Starfleet officer was clearly weighing over the situation and the veracity of the story she’d been presented. Lt. Commander Paris picked up her left arm with a wince of pain, then the armored officer began tapping at a rather large wrist comm unit. “From here you go to Sickbay onboard the Hera to get checked out, and stay under observation until we can determine just what’s been done to you, Ensign Jurot.”

As she finished tapping out whatever orders she was filing, the tall blonde offered a conciliatory expression. “I imagine this is disorienting, probably frightening and thoroughly unwelcome, Miss Jurot. I’ll be frank- I have no idea how this happened to you, but it seems like someone may have hijacked your body for a ride to this planet. Don’t ask me how, why or who, because I don’t know,” the golden-armored officer held up her hands in surrender. “But you’re safe and amongst friends, Counselor. So how about we get you beamed up and get a doctor to look you over, eh?”

While Rita wasn’t managing to be terribly comforting about what she didn’t understand, and her own suspicious nature remained alert to the possibility that this might be a trap, if the situation was as it appeared then apparently the Ensign Jurot she had explained the facts of life to was not the one looking bewildered in a cell in Hera’s dungeons. But she was being honest, as she always did, and Paris figured the empath should be able to tell that without poking into her mind telepathically.

Avender did her best to appear brave in front of a superior officer, yet something about the Commander put her at ease. The Betazoid sensed the Commander's sincerity, and also her pain. "I'm sorry- you're wounded, ma'am. Please, let me help."

"The dangerous part's over, Counselor. The ship's surgeon is topside, and I'll be heading back that way shortly. There's a lot of cleanup left to be done... I think we just toppled a civilization. So..." The big blonde turned to leave, paused, half-turned back then eyed the Betazoid beauty.

"Unless you'd like to come along and help?" Paris motioned toward the dungeon exit. Then she held up her hands "We can beam you out and get you a warm bed and some deep scans. Or... there are people in need up there. And that one person in that cell over there. Hello, we'll get you out shortly."

"I'm a counselor. My job is to help. Let's go do that," Avender said, happy to be useful.

A genuine smile spread across the face of the first officer, and she flipped on a suit light, then turned one behind her to guide the way for the bewildered Betazoid. Setting forth, the lost navigator steered them out of the dungeons of Hera.

"We're Starfleet, we're here to help. That at least hasn't changed, no matter where you end up, eh Counselor?"

"No matter where," Avender replied with a smile.

The Battle of Planet Hera was all over save for the shouting and the random pockets of violence that were still occurring. Commodore Meowlith, having fomented the revolution, was now assisting the leaders of said rebellion to begin instituting democratic provisional reforms, and she would help them usher in a society more in line with what had existed before Hera, based on mutual inclusion and equal representation for all.

The goddess herself had been beamed up to the Hera, where rather than a brig cell, reinforced forcefields over a VIP suite had been Paris’ recommendation for Hera's confinement. But the final call was the captain’s, and Rita had no idea if her suggestion would be heeded. Nor was it her call to make- after all, what she didn’t know about situations could fill volumes. She merely acted on instinct and intuition, and made her recommendations accordingly. Captain Telvan was the native to this timeline and the final arbiter of such things, and she decided the course of her ship and crew, which suited Rita Paris just fine.

Meanwhile, down on the planet, security and science teams were sweeping the throneroom and Hera’s underground fortress to identify and contain any potentially troublesome artifacts that most likely should not fall into the hands of the locals who, with a little power in the vacuum of leadership, might just choose to make themselves the next petty dictator, which would just undo so much of the work that had gone into liberating the society in the first place. There were also a number of monsters of legend who were none too keen on coming quietly. but news that Hera had been defeated and taken captive the brutes understood, and they stopped menacing society.

The Amazons were another matter, but that wasn't Rita's immediate problem.

The landing parties had all checked in safely and were headed home, back to the starship which bore them on their trek through the stars. But before they departed the scene of the USS Hera’s triumph over the goddess of the same name, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris had one more duty to see to- a bit of care for the ship’s chief medical officer.

Asa Dael was fresh out of Starfleet Academy, the Starfleet medical branch. They had never served on a starship, and never served on a single mission before this one. This mission, which had involved bloodshed, mayhem, compromised principles and an awful lot of violence. It was not the form of diplomacy Paris would have preferred. It was the kind that was called for, however, and as a dedicated officer, she had done her duty. But she had dragged the pacifistic Malana behind her, as well as the sensitive and impressionable young physician, who was her concern of the moment.

This had been a hard mission on Rita, and she was far more experienced and world-weary than Dael. Given that she had dragged them through the streets of blood and into the heart of the battle itself, Paris would have felt responsible even if they were not so vulnerable and innocent. As protective of the young person as they were, any new officer who had been through what they had would warrant the first officer taking some time with them. Particularly senior staff, to whom departments looked for guidance.

Waiting for them to finish with a security officer who had cut themselves on an errant blade, Paris stood, her battered golden armor bearing clear indications of the day that she’d had, covered by scrapes and gouges and punctures. Personally, she was glad she hadn’t followed suit with Sonak and come down in just her uniform. The kolinahr master was an idealist and he stuck to his principles, which she respected. He was also a master of more Vulcan martial arts disciplines than she could remember when she was apart from him. So he had that going for him.

At the Academy, Rita had learned judo like every cadet, and she wasn't much better now than she was then, despite her adventures. Having field tested it, the ancient astronaut could see the wisdom of the armored EVA suits, as hers had saved her life more than once on this mission. She was aware she was likely quite a bedraggled sight, but she needed to have a talk with Asa Dael, and she suspected Asa Dael had a few things they needed to get off their chest.

Thus she waited patiently for the physician to notice her, as she daydreamed about a hot shower, a deep tissue massage and a warm bed. She also wondered what Sonak would make of all of this. The peace-loving gal from the sixties had led a revoultion in the streets today, killed and vandalized. She had flat-out executed that minotaur general.

Asa was putting the finishing touches on the last injured security member when they noticed Lt. Commander Paris was still on site. The doctor thought they were the last of the original away team still planetside, and thought they remembered seeing Paris leave earlier, but it was all a bit of a blur at this point.

They walked towards Rita slowly, with a limp on one leg, and holding their arm against the opposing side closely. The doctor had been closest in proximity to Hera's throne exploding and lost their armor in the process. The bodysuit Asa was wearing beneath the suit was covered in a fine layer of dust from being around so much fallen masonry.

Numbness had set in emotionally while there was still work to be done, and Asa had been able to ignore the pains of their body and soul in order to focus on caring for the crew. Now all that was stripped way, and every weary moment of the long day, and every pain from their worsening injury came rushing in. They managed to keep their footing but paused mid-stride to focus on breathing and not passing out from the agony in their side. As soon as the pain receded, Asa felt the grief wash over them.

I killed people today. I don't know that I can ever do enough good for the evil I have done. And yet, what choice did I have? I thought the Universe would be kinder.

Asa took a breath and pasted on their doctor face, featuring a professional smile and attentive eyes. They had learned this particular skill in Starfleet Medical, and although their experience using it was limited, they had learned well, and not may could see past the facade.

"Hello ma'am. I think that's the last of it here. Shall we return to the Hera?"

"Not just yet, Doc. You gonna live if I take 20 minutes of your time or so?" Paris chucked a thumb to where the doctor was holding their side. As the frail physician's face contorted with trying to formulate an answer, Paris took them by the shoulder. "All right, come with me. There's something you need to see."

Asa simply nodded, falling in beside the long-legged executive.

Walking at a surprisingly casual pace for the usually fleet-footed first officer, Rita Paris walked the doctor out of the interior of Hera's blasted throneroom, through one of those great marble double doors that were surprisingly still on their hinges. Stepping outside, the sun was starting to set in the background. While the city lay to the south of them, this was the western facing of the temple, as twilight began. The sun's rays turned golden, and the shadows began to grow long as a brilliant contrast. The trade route they had planned to take into town to get to know the people was there, and the passes were crowded with people coming to the city.

"Cmon. We can sit on the edge over here, and it's not so dangerous. But the view should be worth it," Paris explained as she led the ship's surgeon out to take in the view.

“Word spreads fast, huh?” is all Dael said, letting their eyes adjust to the changing light. The view was much more calming here, away from the smoking embers of buildings still burning from the earlier revolution. Upon reaching the edge, the wounded doctor carefully maneuvered to the ground and let their feet swing lightly over the edge.

“Let freedom ring and all that, it seems." Paris also eased herself slowly to the ground. It was clear that the first officer was stiff and bruised and sore all over, yet she’d stayed here the entire time, following up and supervising the cleanup in the aftermath of their violent action. She was judiciously avoiding using her left arm for much, as a harpy had tried to tear it off at the shoulder, and when she sat, it was with effort like an old lady. Once she was settled, Paris looked out over the landscape, at the purplish skies that had resulted from Chief Clemens' machinations in the undermountain below the temple, which had apparently made Hera’s energies toxic to her.

“So. Remember when I told you that when this is over, we can feel all of this and deal with it?” the armed and armored explorer explained. When she turned to regard the doctor, there were tears in her eyes, and her face wore the expression that made it abundantly clear just how hard the day had been on her. “It’s over now, and this is that time.”

At those words, Asa visibly fell. The set to their shoulders was no longer quite so square, the placid smile vanished, and tears immediately began leaking down their face. Asa met Rita’s gaze, surprised to see her tears fall as well.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know? I was so sure growing up if I could just get away from the ugliness of my father, the ugliness his ignorance caused, that the Universe would be beautiful. That the pain and sickness caused by his religious fervor was surely not common… that on other worlds, people wouldn’t be willing to die for no reason. But then I get here, and it’s the same thing. Sure, this time it’s women telling men how to act instead of the other way around, but it’s the same thing. And the people that die? The people that have their lives torn asunder? What say do they get in any of it? None. But they still die. And I…I…killed people,” they all but wailed.

“I took an oath, first do no harm… and I tried, I really, really tried. But that doesn’t make them any less dead. How do I live with myself? How can I treat patients knowing what I have done? I’m sorry, Commander, you probably think I’m being maudlin. I just… I didn’t expect it to be like this,” they concluded quietly.

“I’m an explorer,” the product of another age replied quietly. “I signed on to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no man had gone before.” A rueful chuckle escaped those bee-stung lips. “I know, it’s sexist, but that was the age that I grew up in. Now here I am, almost two centuries later. Today I wasn’t an explorer. Today I was a soldier. Armed and armored, I strode the streets of this world, and I killed people.”

“The small consolation I have is that I made this world a better place. The powerless have been empowered and those who would reign over them have been removed from power. I protected my shipmates and saw them through a trial I wish we’d never had to face, yet we did.” Staring off into the distance, the fulsome first officer’s voice was unsteady at best. “I murdered that minotaur general. I knew I was going to have to do it the moment I walked into Hera’s throneroom, and when he was determined to beat Ahreva Malana to death, it was a choice- his life or hers. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He wouldn’t be bluffed. He was determined to kill or be killed, so I killed him.”

“I’m going to live with it because you and her will still be here. I’m going to live with all of the lives I took today by remembering that I wanted to settle this peaceably, but they refused to allow it. I’m going to live with it because they chose to serve a tyrant, and they declared war on everything that I hold dear.” Paris turned, her expression one of resigned sadness. “At least, that’s what I will keep telling myself.”

A long pause passed between the two. Asa turned to gaze at the sunset with Rita, and felt the sadness the other had expressed. They understood what Rita meant, although they were surprised at the raw emotion on the blonde bombshell's face.

“Ma’am? Permission to speak freely?” the doctor asked shyly.

“After today, I owe it to you, Myx Dael. By all means, have your say,” Paris gestured to the grand sunset that was forming over the verdant and beautiful countryside of which they had a commanding view from the mountaintop. “It is me and thee out here, no one else. This is the vista that I am going to try to keep as a memento of this day and you need to share it with me, because it might just be a balm for our souls. So yes, Doc, by all means- permission to speak freely and unafraid.”

“Today sucked all over. It found new and inventive ways to suck for both of us and did them in force. I don’t think either of us is walking away the same from this one…I know I’m not. I know I’m young, and I know I’m green. But maybe it’s supposed to feel this way, you know? Maybe it’s supposed to hurt. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the hurt is what shows us our hearts are in the right place…even if mine is on opposite side of my body than yours,” they said with a weak smile.

A wry smile stole its way onto the face of the first officer. “Why Myx Dael, are you trying to make me feel better about all of this?” Leaning in, the armored aviatrix bumped the shoulder of the smaller person with her good shoulder. “Yes. If we don’t feel those losses, then we become monsters. I’ve destroyed entire starships full of people attacking mine, and I’ve fired on locations from orbit.”

“But this was… ugly. And you’re right, it is supposed to feel this way. It reminds us that we’re…” Paris wound her good hand in a circular motion, trying to conjure a word other than ‘human’, which was no longer applicable in the wider cosmos in which she now existed. “People. It reminds us that we have a soul, and that what we do in life echoes an eternity.”

Asa enjoyed the feel of a friendly body next to their own. A person to share a sunset with, a comrade in arms to reflect on the day. After all, it really was beautiful here.

“I don’t think either of us is in any danger of becoming a monster, ma’am. I’ve seen sadness before. Sickness, death. I’ve seen things that made me want to level a building just to get the rage out. But I never acted on anything. I just… ran. I ran away from home, I ran away to Starfleet, I ran away to my books and my brain. Thanks… for not letting me run away this time. Assuming the EMH doesn’t have a programming glitch and kill me in surgery when we get back, I think I can get used to living with this… in time, at least.”

“You were very brave out there today, Asa Dael. You faced your fear, and never hesitated. You fought for what’s right, and you saved my life. I won’t forget that, and neither should you,” Paris offered, with sincerity. “I’ve seen admirals loose their bowels in fear on the bridge, and I’ve seen crewmen run headlong into danger to save a shipmate. Heroism might not mean the same thing anymore, but to me it does. I told you today there were no heroes, just us. And it’s my experience that’s what makes a hero- someone who doesn’t want to be there and doesn’t want to be doing this, but stays and stands against injustice and does the right thing. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

“So while you see those faces and you try to figure out how to live with what you’ve done today, look at the people you liberated, who will be able to rebuild their society their world. Look at the sunset of a world at peace that you made happen, this beautiful jewel of a world and this glorious sunset.” Pausing, Paris turned and offered one of those million-watt smiles that even bedraggled, sweaty and dirty still reminded you just how darn pretty the woman really was. “And you’ll see your friend in the minidress, and you’ll know that she’s still here because of you.”

“Well, there are so few explorers in minidresses left. Who am I to deprive the universe of one?” the doctor asked with a crooked smile. They always felt awkward emotional moments, perhaps due to the last vestiges of puberty, or perhaps simply due to who they are. Even so, Asa felt a strong kinship towards Rita. The last 24 hours had put both of them through hell, but they got through it together.

“Thank you ma’am. For understanding, and saving me right back.”

“It’s what friends do, Myx Dael,” Paris replied as she reclined with a groan and a grunt, determined to enjoy the sunset.

For the fourteenth time, Rita Paris grabbed at the small of her back looking for the communicator she had left with Commodore Meowlith, and she realized just how much she missed it. Tapping her abundant bosom for a comm signal just wasn't the same somehow, though she had adapted. "Lieutenant Commander Paris to Hera, do you copy?"

=^= We read you loud and clear, Commander. =^= came the reply.

"Patch me through to Lieutenant Dox, please."

"Lieutenant Dox here." Dox replied. The Hera's new pilot was laying back on her bed in her quarters after the harrowing events of the day taking a moment to relax. Her uniform was still perfectly in place and she sat up to respond, calling to the room "Computer, lights to 75% please."

“Lieutenant Dox, this is Lieutenant Commander Paris. I’m still on the planet and I could use a dustoff. Do you think you could possibly fit it into your schedule to get a shuttle or a runabout and come pick me up, please?” Why the first officer couldn’t beam up like a normal person was not explained, but apparently she wanted shuttle service. The weariness in her voice was something new to Dox, as the pep and zest for life usually embodied by the LTCDR was conspicuously absent. She sounded beyond exhausted.

This shift in the Commander's tone immediately made Melanie concerned. She had only know Rita Paris for a few days, but Dox was beginning to get a feel for the usually effervescent First Officer and she hoped all was well, although this wasn't the moment to ask. Instead, Dox felt like this was he moment to move. "Aye, Commander. I'll make the necessary arrangements immediately and inform you of my ETA when I'm en route."

"Much appreciated, Miss Dox," came the reply before the channel closed.

Dox hopped up out of bed, taking the briefest of moments to make sure she was appropriately presentable for duty, tucking some loose strands of hair back and making her way out of her quarters to the corridor.

While Paris didn't express any over the urgency in her request, Dox felt it anyway. Perhaps it was left over adrenaline from the mission or just an uneasy feeling from the Commander's subdued tone, but Dox quickly made her way to the flight control office and filed a flight plan, securing all the necessary permissions to carry out the extraction.

The Selune and the Thor were still undergoing standard, post-mission diagnostics. They were the U.S.S Hera's most advanced Runabouts to be sure, but Dox had no problem flying whatever was available. Which is not to say that she wasn't just a little excited to find a Delta-Class Runabout available. She had only ever gotten to fly Delta-Class ships in simulations and they were among Starfleet's fastest, most maneuverable and adaptable small crafts. And they were designed with pilots in mind, with manual controls similar to what had been instituted at the helm of the Hera herself.

In the cockpit of the Runabout, Dox felt quite at home as the majority of her career in Starfleet was in shuttle missions much like this one. It was less than fifteen minutes of procedures and flight protocol from receiving the pick-up request, and Dox was on her way to the surface of the planet that had so recently been the site of a life or death mission against a Goddess. "Lieutenant Dox to Commander Paris. En route to your coordinates. ETA to touch down is 16 minutes."

It was a straight forward run to the planet, but Dox kept a sharp eye in her sensors in case there might still be some unforeseen threats still out there. The Runabout slid effortlessly into the atmosphere of the battle-scarred world below into a brilliant sunset. Feeling a momentary rush of excitement, Dox couldn't resist opening up the small ships engines and zig-zagging a bit through the clouds on the path to her destination which was directly ahead.

In spite of the visible signs of the armed conflict that the away teams had recently engaged with against the goddess Hera's forces, the city was still starkly beautiful as the vibrant pink light of the sunset reflected off of the marble structures below. As Dox approached the mountaintop temple where Rita Paris was waiting, she pulled a wide, counter-clockwise arc around it. Sensors were all well and good, but Melanie Dox had a lifetime of experience landing ships where they weren't always welcome in her childhood piloting smuggling ships and she preferred to make a visual scan of her surroundings before landing.

Completing an orbit of sorts around the perimeter of the temple, she brought the maneuverable craft in for a landing at the established coordinates, a mid-sized courtyard at the front of the temple just large and structurally sound enough to allow it. Deploying the landing struts, the Runabout set down gently with its hatch positioned toward Paris' position and its nose aimed at an escape trajectory just in case.

With one last look at the sensor to confirm that there was no immediate threats, Dox opened the Runabout Danu’s hatch and made her way from the cockpit to greet her XO.

Said executive officer looked to be a bit of a wreck. The gold MACO armor- a color that no EVA armor came in, yet there she was, wearing engineering gold despite being command track- was dented and scraped and battered, holed in more than one place. There were crusts on it that were likely dried blood, though it was uncertain just precisely whose. She had her left thumb hooked in her belt, which along with the mortar-crusted spot on her armor that appeared to have bled profusely at one point indicated she was probably doing her best to immobilize it without using a sling, so as not to appear to be injured.

The brisk military stride which she was known to exercise locomoting about the decks of the Hera was conspicuously absent, as the first officer was movjng slowly and deliberately. While the armor covered everything but her head currently, Dox suspected the commander was likely one ambulatory bruise given her gait and level of activity, but that million watt smile still lit up as the daredevil pilot greeted her department chief on the gangplank. Unlimbering the rather large an unwieldy assault rifle from her back, Paris ported it by the upper handle which doubled as a sight.

“Miss Dox, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Paris offered with some of her customary cheer. “How about help an old lady onboard and get her home, eh?”

Taken aback slightly at Paris' condition and feeling that her commander was probably worse off than she was trying to let show, Dox rushed down the ramp to offer whatever help she could. "Aye Commander." The lieutenant reached to take Paris' weapon and offered an arm. "If you need it."

Handing off the surprisingly heavy bulky rifle to her subordinate, Paris hauled herself by her right hand up the ramp and into the Delta Flyer alongside the junior officer, then turned to hit the button to close the hatch. Once it was sealed, her shoulders sagged and Paris looked as though she’d been run over by a Mugatu. “Just get me back onboard, Miss Dox. Then I just have to make it across the flight deck and down to sickbay without anyone realizing I can barely move, and I’ll be fine.”

Offering a lopsided grin as she slowly eased herself into the navigator’s chair, the gold-clad commander groaned as she did so. “Can’t let the troops see you falling apart. If you’re still upright and moving, they are vastly more confident overall. If Command shows vulnerability, it’s all over.” Raising her eyebrows at the junior officer, Paris sighed. “So you’ll have to pardon me my human weakness, Lieutenant, but it’s been one hell of a day.”

Understanding full well the weight of what the Executive Officer was talking about, and what it meant that she was allowing Dox to see the proverbial crack in her armor for a moment, the pilot quickly switched gears. "I wouldn't know what you mean, Commander. You look fine to me." Dox replied with a slight smile as she slid into the pilot’s seat, entering the return coordinates. "Course plotted and laid in."

Without waiting for any response, Dox engaged the engines and the Runabout lifted smoothly away from the temple platform and up towards the Hera's position. "Speed at maximum for atmospheric tolerances. We should be in board in a few minutes."

"Tut tut, Miss Dox," Rita Paris held up her left hand in caution, then grunted. Waving it off, she declared, "I assure you I am in no mortal peril. I have just had a very, very long day. Ease off the throttle, because first I want YOU to tell me about YOUR day. Report, Lieutenant. I'd like a departmental briefing on the battle, as you have firsthand knowledge of the situation." Settling back into the comfortable pilot's chairs of the Delta Flyer model, the pretty pilot's eyes flickered over the controls, because she couldn't help it- speed, velocity, vector and hazards called to her, and always would. Looking up, she caught the pilot composing herself, and settled in to wait for her to organize her thoughts. Paris had already indicated she was in no hurry, and she'd get that report.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied with a momentary twinge of confusion as she pulled back on the throttle of the Runabout. Still in the planet’s atmosphere, the ship slowed to a more leisurely pace as the fresh pilot adjusted the coordinates to extend their journeys flight time by a few minutes. She then looked down slightly and chewed a bit on her bottom lip trying to collect her thoughts as she had never had to report for an entire department before. It was an old nervous tic that she knew Paris would pick up and as such, she made no effort to conceal it as she collected her thoughts. Dox was beginning to learn that trying to mask her feelings from the observant First Officer was a waste of time at best and at worse, counterproductive towards building the kind of trust that was essential on a ship like the Hera.

"Flight Control departmental report." Dox cleared her throat slightly. "HERA systems reported at 95%, having sustained comparably minor damage to the forward shields while engaging with the enemy chariots in the asteroid belt. The Hera engaged in close combat with multiple pairs of assault chariots and was successfully able to destroy the attacking crafts taking only minor fire. No hull or system damage reported. No casualties reported during the engagements." Dox allowed herself the slightest of smiles as she though back on how well her first combat mission was as a pilot and her posture relaxed slightly. "We kept the paint on her, Commander."

The reaction from the pilot told Paris all she needed to know about how Dox felt about the mission. "I daresay that looks like genuine pride, Miss Dox. And well earned. I haven't had time to review the feeds, but according to the captain, you're a natural, cool under pressure and intuitive- everything you showed in your simulation run. In short, you are one hell of a pilot, Lieutenant."

Always uncomfortable with praise of any kind, Dox blushed a bit but allowed herself to smile. She did feel good about her performance on the bridge and was beginning to let herself feel that, which was still a fairly new sensation for her to explore. "Thank you, Commander." Dox turned to her First Officer for a moment. "And if I may say from a more personal level... The simulation did not do justice to her handling. I've never flown anything even close to the Hera."

Those bright blue eyes came alive at that. "She glides. I've never felt anything like it, but she just sliiiiides around, right? It’s like being in a controlled drift at all times when you're at impulse, and she moves almost intuitively. If I'd known I was going to end up in the future with a joystick and a throttle in my hand, I'dve gotten here sooner," Paris laughed, then looked a bit melancholy.

"Which brings us to my next point. Dox, there's no easy way to say this. I'm not a young woman. I'm a hundred and sixty-two years old, for phloog's sake. Plus the first officer doesn't get to sit on the bridge and pilot the starship. Nope, she's leading the away teams. Not a lot of bridge flight time involved in the first officer's duties." Tapping her forehead, Rita Paris offered a salute with her index finger. "Command, Miss Dox. Take note. You give up a lot to the big chairs."

After having read the personnel files of the senior staff upon coming on board, Dox was aware of the broad strokes of the first officer's misadventures through time. But there was something distinctly different hearing about it directly and Dox's eyes softened slightly at hearing her Commander's age as if hearing it from Paris' own mouth made it more real. She was at a loss as to how it was appropriate to respond as there was a lot to take in.

"I suppose... I can only imagine, Commander. I mean... I've read your personnel file, of course. I read the whole command crew's files just hoping to not forget anyone's names." Dox chuckled slightly. "But I can only imagine what all you've experienced. It's..." Dox stopped mid sentence as the Runabout broke out of the planets atmosphere into open space. The Hera began to come into view in the distance as the steadily growing shape of the Starship reflected the sunlight of the Meroset stars sunset across her pearlescent hull. Dox was taken aback at the sight. "Wow."

"There she is," Paris marveled at the sight of the starship, filled with that love that only pilots and captains feel for their starship warming in her heart. The anachronistic astronaut smiled, a warm yet simple smile that peeled away much of her fatigue and reminded Melanie more of the executive officer she knew. "You're going to take care of her from now on, Miss Dox. The captain and I have discussed it, and I'm promoting you to chief flight control officer. You've got the skills as a pilot, and you've responded well to command training. Yes, I know you don't know the paperwork- I'll train you, have no fear. And you will still have Ensign Gonadie as your assistant, who knows the job but doesn't want to lead, she just wants to fly."

"Ain't she a beauty, though. While you're thinking of what's appropriate to say in response to all that, let's take an external visual inspection after the battle to confirm any damage, shall we?" To her credit, Rita knew exactly how the lady lieutenant felt, because she'd been promoted thusly a few times in her career, and she knew that the young officer would need a moment to process. Thus why it was just the two of them, alone with the mighty starship who was their charge. Here was a safe space where Dox could have her reaction, whatever it might be, and the only audience would be Rita Paris, the 'Unlucky Lady' and the Hera herself.

There was a moment of shock as Melanie's stomach started bouncing around in her middle. Her mind raced with all the reasons she could imagine that this scenario didn't make sense to her. All the self-defeating thoughts popped up as Dox attempted to play mental whack-a-mole with them: I just got here! This is my first assignment on a Starship!? Ensign Gonadie DESIGNED the Hera's flight controls!??

But Dox put her self-doubt aside after a moment, realizing that she had let her jaw drop wide and she was gaping like an idiot. "Uh... pardon me... Yes. Aye, Commander." Dox shook her head like someone waking up from a dream and looked back up at the Hera, now looking large in the window of the Runabout as they approached at a mild, cruising speed. The beauty of the massive Nebula-class Starship snapped her attention back to where she was and what she was just ordered to do.

Bringing the Runabout to a virtual crawl in the void of space just below the rear of the ship that glistened in the light of the Meroset star like a black diamond against the stars, Dox felt emotion well up in her. This was her home now and she would need to shoulder the responsibility of steering her right and true. But what was anxiety moments ago bled away, replaced by awe and pride as she brought the small Delta-Class Runabout in close to the ventral side of the Hera's drive section.

“Yes, you are a junior officer. No, you have never run a department before. Yes, you will make mistakes. But as First officer it is my job to help you through that adjustment, and unsurprisingly I am intimately familiar with the procedures and policies.” Paris took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I wouldn’t hand over my department unless I thought you were ready, Lieutenant. I have that confidence in you, and so does the Captain. And yes, I know all of this because I’ve been in your shoes. When I was assigned chief helmsman on the Constitution, I was on cloud nine and filled with fear all at the same time.”

“Don’t be filled with fear. We’re here for you, you have a safety net and we expect a goof up or two, because you’re only… one person. New to the job, that's better.” Once again, Paris had to pursue a non-humancentric turn of phrase to apply to one of her old axioms. Out here, she was the only one who was ‘only human’, and that wasn’t an acceptable phrase or yardstick any longer unless she was referring to herself.

"Thank you, Commander. I... I really appreciate it. I will absolutely do my..." Then in mid response, Dox stopped in her tracks after processing Paris' last few comments. "Wait, THE Constitution? The prototype for the class?" She blurted out with a bit more excitement then she would have been comfortable with only a couple of days ago with her First Officer, but it was something of a fangirl moment where the passionate pilot came out.

“The one and only,” Paris reflected, happy that someone actually recognized her old billet, and could appreciate her love of the old heavy cruisers of her day. “288 meters long, 127 meters high, 190,000 metric tons fully loaded. Crew complement of 430, and she cruised at Warp Six, which by modern standards is around Warp 4 as I understand it. In 2260 I was signed on as helm chief, and I fought so hard to get that posting. Daddy didn’t want me to go, because I might get it in my head to enjoy exploring space and never come home to give him grandchildren,” Paris muttered. "Good news, Daddy, you were right."

“I never did get to serve at the helm on the Constitution, but I was… present… for most of her five year mission,” the ghost of the 23rd century glossed over the horror that she had endured as a living warp phantom after her first transporter accident on the Constitution. “I loved that old girl, warts and rattles and all. By the time I got back on a Constitution class it was the Exeter, which was refit as I came aboard, so I got to serve on both variants.”

“Stuff they don’t teach you in the history books?” offered the Constitution-Class expert, “You could feel the deckplates vibrating at warp. The faster we pushed her, the more that vibration would build up. Inertial Dampeners weren’t what they are now, and when you pushed her too hard the engineers would warn that she was gonna fly apart, because it was a very real possibility.”

"I've been on more than a few ships that felt like that. But nothing like the Constitution. Well, aside from holodeck simulations. I've been on simulations of almost every class Starship ever, but they never capture all the details... The feels. Every ship has a feel." Dox looked up at the ventral Hill of the Hera's engineering hull only a few meters above their Runabout. "That was the biggest difference between the sim and flying HER for real. The Hera. I CAN feel her engine. At the helm, I could feel her speed. Feel her pitch and yaw. It's subtle, but it's there. Like your own pulse, it's always there. Her heartbeat."

The Runabout Danu which Paris had nicknamed the 'Unlucky Lady' turned up under the massive saucer of the Hera and Dox pulled the maneuverable little craft up and around bringing her nose to nose with the Nebula-class Starship, far enough away that the ship filled the window in front of the two officers. "Holodecks don't do her justice either, Commander."

"Barely any scorching on the hull. Really well done, Dox. I skimmed the action report, but the proof is right there. She's damn near pristine."

"I'll miss getting the chance to fly her, but there are always simulations. And who knows, maybe next time I can man tactical for you. I love to fly, but I love starship weaponry more. Being a navigator was a breeze, but having tactical at my command made starship battles personal. Shields and weaponry." Paris paused, cocked her head, then frowned a bit. "So if we can modulate the shields we can phase the phasers through them? As fast as they cycle- oh, and we can open pinpoints in the shields now. The future, Miz Dox, is pretty spectacular."

The Runabout pulled up and over the Hera's dorsal pod as Dox thought a bit more deeply about what Paris had just said about the future. Of course, from the perspective of someone born over a century ago this was the future. A time one would never have expected to live to see. But sometimes the future is more than that. It can also be an idea or an ideal worth reaching for or escaping to, she thought.

Pushing forward on the Danu's manual stick, Dox dipped her nose down across the rear of the ship as they cleared the end of the pod, pulling the Runabout well past the aft before swinging the small craft back around. "Growing up..." Dox looked toward her new First Officer, "Growing up, I always wanted to live in the future. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was, Commander." Then she looked back at the magnificent ship she now called home. "But now. Now I think I'm ready for now, if that makes any sense."

"It very much does, Miss Dox. Growing up, I couldn't wait for the future either- when I could get out from under the shadow of my father and chart my own course, and not waste three years in Ballet or learning needlepoint or whatever of a dozen anachronisms my dear old dad felt a proper young woman should learn. Instead to get out here, and see sights like this..." As the small craft orbited the Hera, so too was she orbiting the planet. As they slid to the night side of the planet, the Hera lit up with violet lights, looking more like a deep sea creature than a starship, yet no less breathtaking.

"It does feel a bit like we've arrived, eh Dox?" Paris smiled contentedly, then, she raised a finger and wagged it. "For the record, when we're off duty or alone, you can call me Rita. It's not a breach of protocol if I give you permission. Yes, it is a familiarity, no, I know you won't abuse it, and frankly, amongst the senior staff it's best we come to more of such a relationship. Because while I will still mentor you and guide you just like I do any of the crew, you don't need to have that fear of the superior officer thing so popular amongst the junior officers and always be standing on ceremony. With a little luck, we're going to be friends, Miss Dox, and friends can give one another permission to use less formal titles and forms of address."

Blushing slightly, Dox replied with a slight chuckle. "Not calling you Commander might be the trickiest thing for me to learn. Piloting is easy compared to socializing sometimes." Dox punched in the landing coordinates while she talked. "But... I hope to get there too. So, can we park this girl so I can get you to sickbay?" Dox smiled with a tight lipped expression allowing her anxiety to show through unguarded. "I am kind of stressing out a little about that. I'm a bit of a worry wart in that way. But I will endeavour to not let that show on duty or around anyone else."


“No pressure, Miss Dox. It’s a permission thing, not an order thing. And you get there in your own time.” For her part, Rita didn’t use the young lieutenant’s first name either—after all, while he had offered hers, Dox had not extended the same courtesy, most likely because it hadn’t occurred to her and this was unfamiliar territory. Baby steps Rita reminded herself. Keep it to a few lessons at a time of you want them to grow confident. With that thought, Paris shifted in her seat, winced in obvious pain and sagged a bit against the chair. “Yes, I believe you’re right, Lieutenant. I need to be able to march off this runabout and look as though I’ve spent the day walking in the park, and I don’t have much get up and go left in me. So bringing her home is likely the best of plans, as much as I enjoy moments like this.”

Reaching out to touch the viewport, Paris smiled, a small piper’s smile. “I left behind the world I knew, quite accidentally, of course. It is a brave new world in which I have found myself, full of contradictions and wonders and terrors.” Turning back to catch the eye of the junior officer, the chrononaut commander offered what wisdom she had learned. “We’re here to explore, and that hasn’t changed. We might get some dirty missions that call for more sacrifice than most, but Command sends us in because we can do it. But our purpose out here is to explore… and in doing so, we usually find ourselves.”

“I look forward to being there as you find yourself, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox.”

With an authentic smile that she didn't have to force, Dox thought for a moment and felt like she had the most appropriate response. "Thank you. And I appreciate the helping hand... Rita." Immediately, her face crunched up with a slightly awkward smirk. "Yeah, that will take getting used to."

“In your own time, Miss Dox,” Paris replied expansively. “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin, eh?”

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied, then turned her attention to the controls of the Runabout. "Lieutenant Dox to Hera. Runabout Danu requesting permission to land."

After a brief pause, the com system of the Runabout chirped gently and a friendly voice responded. "Permission Granted, Delta. Proceed to shuttle bay 2."

Turning slightly to Paris, Dox sat up just a little straighter with a light smile and a sense of what she could only describe as comfort. "Let's bring her home."

Leaving the flight deck, Paris made her way to her former office, where she stripped out of her battered and scuffed, holed and broken armor. Grabbing a quick shower, she called for the replicator to spit her out a uniform, thanking it for its efforts. By the time Rita Paris stepped onto the turbolift to Deck 1, no one would suspect that 20 minutes ago she had been an armed and armored valkyrie.

As the lift doors opened, Rita took two steps at her usual martial pace before her screaming and protesting muscles, suffering from stim abuse and the day's activities refused. Resigning herself to a far more sedate pace, she nodded to the bridge crew and tried unsuccessfully to not look like she was in a surprising amount of bodywide aching pain. The concussion from Hera's throne had been blunted by the armor, but it was still an all-over body bruise.

But the day wasn't over yet. Because in order for the day to be over, she had to report. Stepping stiffly up to the door of the ready room, Rita waited to see if the door opened or if it had to be chimed.

Thankfully, the door was waiting for specifically her and it opened automatically as she got close to it.

"There you are. It's great to see you again, Commander. You did good work down there." Commodore Meowlith said from the comfort of Enalia's couch, legs crossed and a cup of fine tea in her hands. She was in a finely pressed uniform this time - a rather unique and futuristic uniform even compared to what the rest of the crew were wearing. The top was all red with black and gold piping and the pants were just plain black. Even her comm badge was stylistically different.

Enalia looked pleased as well - so much so that she had popped the top button on her own uniform and it hung slightly loose. "That you did, though I'd prefer you cleaned up after yourself a bit better. Crewman Dedjoy went through and beamed up a lot of tech we couldn't leave behind. She also found something hiding in the warp core you might be interested in."

Reaching down behind her desk, Farenia waved her off and interrupted her. "Let the woman rest and enjoy the spoils of victory for a moment. She hasn't even sat down to a cup of tea, for sun's sake."

"Right. Where are my manners. Please, have a seat. I'll get you some tea." Enalia had a cup and a thermos of hot tea already prepared - she just had to pour it for Rita. After she did so, she slid the antique looking cup and saucer over to the chair in front of her desk. "There you are. I hope you like it. My wife made a nice ah... It's from Earth... Apple spice tea, I think she called it."

"I'm sure it's lovely, ma'am. Less spoils of victory than running on fumes, Commodore. I have had what felt like the longest day of my career today. Would you like to hear about it? Because I am going to be frank, senior officers and all due respect," Paris smiled a weary and timeworn expression for her. "The sooner I report and am dismissed, the sooner I have a warm bed and maybe a massage if I'm lucky. I will admit to hoping for a few days of sleep. All due respect."

Shifting in her chair, Paris grunted as she was reminded of another stop along the way. "Sickbay. Then a warm bed and a massage. Hopefully not just Sickbay."

"My wife has already offered a double session at your convenience, if you'd like," Enalia replied, picking up her own teacup and sipping at it. "Please, go ahead."

"All right, let's see. My day started at 03:40 when I got up, got on my running togs, did a little paperwork then ran out to harass Lieutenant Dauntless as ordered. She is as her name suggests, unafraid of anything and unafraid to speak her mind. She was working on a way to use the subspace... I forget the science, I have a report I can send you. But if she managed it, I never called for it so I haven't a report on whether the energy disruption Dauntless was working on was successful. But according to her and her degrees in mad science, she thinks she might have an answer. We shall see."

"At 09:00 Lieutenant Sonak and I reported to Dr. Dael in the transporter room. Reports have been filed, but suffice to say my desire to be transported has not been increased due to the recent experimentation. I assume Dedjoy is performing experiments and whatnot on that core sample from Ajilon Prime?" Rita tossed it off casually, but just casually recollecting to skim over the incident still made her forehead break out into beads of sweat as her heart raced.

"Oh... She told you about it..." Enalia reached behind her desk and pulled the core sample case out from behind it and plopped it on her desk. "I was hoping to surprise you with this as a present. She said she had to pull it out of the dilithium chamber or something during your experiment before the ship got pulled into a quantum singularity and either destroyed or turned into a warp ghost like you were."

"Well, you know me, ma'am. When things go wrong, they go really wrong," the fulsome first officer shrugged, remembering to only do it with her right shoulder. "You know, that thing was a meter and a half long and about 175 kilos. Looks like it kinda shrunk in translation. So that's a surprise, still. Ah, for the record, I am okay. While being sucked into a transporter ranks seriously low on my list of life experiences I wanted to have, at least we identified the cause and I'm still here, so we're calling that experiment a win."

Enalia eyed the half meter tall container. "Yeah, Ila guessed from the trace amounts of your DNA in it that it was trying to replace its lost mass with yours."

Farenia chuckled softly. "That would have put a small dent in it, then sucked in anything else near it... Unless you weigh... I'd say... around 150 kilos."

"Either way, I'm glad your safe." Enalia leaned back in her chair. "And no more transporter action for you unless it's in the special one, and only for emergencies."

"Ah, no, ma'am, although Doc and Sonak want to keep working on figuring it out, and I'm inclined to participate. It's... it's embarrassing being a Starfleet officer who's afraid of transporters, ma'am. It's bad for morale and it's liable to catch on. So if it's all the same to you, they want to figure out why transporters misbehave around me, and I would like to know the answers too."

"More of an allergy, and hopefully most of the cause is now sitting on my desk. Continue the tests, but be sure they're safer than before, and next time coordinate with Ila so she can be ready next time." Enalia didn't like to admit it, but she wanted to get to the bottom of this as well.

"Thanks ma'am. Past that a standard day of duty with reports you've read, checked a few articles out of the armory, oversaw the maintenance and ordinance checks on the Thor and the Selune, then held a brainstorming session with my landing party because I didn't want to go blasting these poor people's planet. Which led to my 48 hour request, and you know the rest of that conversation." Paris paused because she assumed this was liable to be a discussion point.

Farenia interjected at this point. "Denied for what I assume is the imminent launch of the Chariot fleet that I reported shortly before."

"It was. If we had more time, or more resources... But it worked out in the end, thanks to the groundwork you somehow had already laid out." Enalia eyed the Vulcanoid Rigelian suspiciously, wondering just how long she had been on the planet before they had gotten there.

Commodore Meowlith grinned a pointy eared grin the likes of which you'd never see on any true Vulcan. "Why yes, thank you for noticing. I quickly made contact with the local resistance and became their prophet, which wasn't hard, considering my name happened to coincide with one of their patron deities. After that, I just told them of the impending arrival of Starfleet, which the UT had trouble with... And things took off. They needed hope so badly after what they had been through they didn't need much in the way of miracles as proof of my veracity."

"Amazing ground work, Commodore. So, we landed outside of town, went local, double-timed it into town, located the Commodore, who had the resistance ready for a rebellion." Paris turned to face Meowlith wish an expression of chagrin. "That was... insubordinate, stupid, unproductive and unprofessional. ma'am. I was so frustrated that it had to turn to violence that I let my feelings get the best of me. I just... I felt like there should have been another way. But there wasn't. You already knew that."

Farenia raised a hand to try and calm Rita. "It's ok. You're a normal 'fleeter. You go for the diplomacy first, then fire at will. Unfortunately, we had already tried talking a few times and Hera shot to kill every time. Hell, she enslaved that planet. If we hadn't found proof after the fact that they were warp capable before she took them over..."

"It might have been more than a little awkward. As it was, we thought they were post industrial at the most. We knew they had some minor in-system exploration, but not that they were the ones that invented the Chariots or the weapons on them." Enalia finished, having followed along with the Commodore's thoughts.

Farenia nodded. "Anyway, don't worry about it. You came through in the end. Let's call it... Character development. You learned a valuable lesson about Intel Command and how we do things and have come away stronger. They don't listen to the diplomats? We take over and hit them with a big stick until they listen to us or it doesn't matter anymore."

"I don't know how comfortable I am with that, ma'am," Paris said quietly, voicing her honest opinion. "I'm an explorer, not a soldier. I didn't sign on to seek out new life and gun it down. I know, the situation called for violence and it was warranted. But I murdered people today, and that bothers me, Commodore. So I don't know if I'll be cut out for these sorts of missions, if this is what we do."

"I'm not conscientiously objecting, ma'am's, just expressing that it's not... me."

That left the ready room in a bit of silence for a moment. It was Farenia that broke it. "Well, things have been calming down after the last series of debacles cleared up. Hopefully you'll have a chance to actually work on your cover story for a while. I mean... I'm sure orders are already being readied, but who knows..."

Enalia cleared her throat. "Anyway, please continue with your report."

"Yes ma'am." Rita knew that her declaration made things awkward, but she owed it to the two commanders over her to be honest with them. The images of what she had done would haunt her, and she fervently hoped that this would not be a trend, that they would always be a wetwork last resort when the explorers who came in peace had failed.

"I split the away team, one to go to the spaceport, one to make their way across the city to deal with the transponder shrines and confront Hera herself. Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi, Lieutenant Sonak and Senior Chief Yeager took the spaceport mission to cripple the fleet, which they managed to do with a minimum of conflict. The march across the city to destroy shrines... was not." Paris' brow furrowed. "We tried more peaceful solutions, but each shrine was well-guarded, and it became clear that violence was the only answer- they would kill to defend the shrines, phasers didn't work on half of them and I didn't have the time nor the manpower to invent a creative solution, draw them out and lead them on a chase while others blew the shrines. We killed... we killed quite a few people, actually. Because they wouldn't stop, and they wouldn't listen to reason. Six shrines, as I recall."

Farenia nodded, remembering the map she had given the buxom adventurer. "There were nine main shrines, but three were on the edge of the city. It sounds like you got the inner ones and the interconnected ones, at the very least. I'm sorry you had to resort to violence, but if you hadn't, even more of the Merosians would have died."

"That may be small comfort, but it's still the truth," Enalia added. "Hera's forces refused to surrender for several hours, even after we had her in custody. We had to revive her and have her issue the surrender order herself, and get Administrator Tal'da'mira to promise to treat them decently and not like slaves or outright kill them."

“I know. I do realize it was a necessity… believe me, I took the first field mission doctor with me, and I had to get them up and moving more than once with an inspirational speech. I understand that sometimes violence can only be met by violence, and I understand that our missions will sometimes encounter that. I’m just hoping that’s not all we do- that’s my concern, ma’ams,” Paris offered, hoping to clarify.

“I’ll have the detailed report on our trek across the city and our encounters, but long and short we survived and succeeded. Once we found the tram, I was unwilling to risk taking the mountain pass for time and mission constraints, as well as safety of the landing party,” Paris explained. “The tram led to the palace, and the palace led to… well, good teamwork and coordination won the day. I never laid a hand on her and she was not directly injured, so we might just have a little leverage. Of course, she thinks differently, so who knows.”

"She's in a far different position now, being sealed in VIP quarters that even her people can't escape from." Enalia pulled up a video feed of Hera, at a table, drinking wine like a normal person. "We stripped her of anything that might even remotely be tech, of course. The EMH will be tending to her for the time being."

“With your permission, I’d like to have a word with her eventually. I realize that Starfleet Intel will most likely want to do a debriefing and interrogation, but while she’s here I’d like to take a shot at convincing her to work with the angels. She mentioned something disturbing on the planet,” Paris got up from her chair with considerable stiffness despite her efforts to appear to be fine, and walked stiffly to the replicator, creating a PaDD for herself. Tapping at it as she spoke, she brought up her armor’s recording.

“Whatever fate you decide is best fitting for me though, there is a far greater threat that lurks on the horizon. Those that gave birth to my people are coming back. I see now that they are behind our return as well as other disturbances I've sensed."

“I find that a bit worrisome. Another little piece of the puzzle is that Ensign Jurot has no idea who we are or how she got here- apparently the last thing she remembers is being about the USS Hood, and the woman I rescued from Hera’s dungeons was very much a different woman than who we sent down there full of pride and arrogance.” Paris made eye contact with the two superior officers. “I don’t know if there’s a connection, but I’m unwilling to dismiss anything as coincidence given the situation.”

"We'll have to debrief Ensign Jurot..." Farenia wondered about this turn of events and if it had anything to do with the next storm brewing on the horizon that she'd already gotten word about. That would have to come later though.

Enalia eyed Farenia, knowing that look. It meant trouble for the Hera and it often accompanied an interesting set of orders that she hadn't received yet. "I'll allow it, but only with a displacement field between the two of you. I'll leave Ensign Jurot's debrief to you as well. In fact, with this slacker..." Motioning offhandedly to the suddenly grinning Commodore, Enalia sighed heavily. "I'm going to have to leave debriefing the whole crew to you since she's apparently going to leave briefing the admiralty to me while she gallivants off to who knows where."

"You know me so well, 'Nalia," Farenia replied, blowing her a kiss.

"I was the one who first encountered Jurot, ma'am. With all due respect, that means i am a part of her debriefing and her interviewer needs to be a neutral party. How about Dr, Dael? They're the department head for sickbay and the counselor's immediate superior. Plus they're a trained mental health professional. I'm just familiar with therapy."

"Good thinking. You'll still need to make an official report, of course, but the doctor is a better choice." Enalia sipped at her tea a bit more before continuing. "Speaking of which, I heard that both the doctor and our stone faced biologist got hurt down there. Will they be ok?"

"We have hope. Miss Malana, as it turns out, needs not a tissue knitter but a mason. So part of the cleanup was getting her back out of that hole she'd been driven into and locating her pieces, which she was pretty adept about even missing most of her fingers." Paris waved absently and offered a bemused expression. "The local masons found her a bit miraculous as a golem, their words not mine, so they were excited over who could work on her. She settled it by choosing two, and she's still being patched up down there in the city, with a security detail watching over her."

"Brave woman. I like her," Paris concluded simply. "As for Doc... physically I am pretty sure they will be fine. mentioned some injuries but nothing life-threatening, so they stayed to do the mop-up and help the injured. See, once Hera fell, they came in to the city from the outlying areas. The city made it's way up to the temple, to see that they were free. And there were wounded and we had to do crowd control so that nobody picked up some crazy fizzgig. Long and short, Doc worked through it all tile I sent them back to Sickbay. They beamed down teams that are doing triage at the temple, there are a lot of security on the ground to cover them, and the humanitarian efforts are in full swing."

"But as for how Myx Dael is going to be emotionally? I dunno, ma'am. This was their first mission on their first starship posting straight out of Starfleet Academy. And it was... violent. I did my best to shield them from it but... someone should talk to them. Hopefully we have a counselor who counsels now, so maybe that will work itself out. Maybe they can have yin yang sessions, at the half hour switch and talk about the other's problems." Reaching for the tea, now that it had cooled, Paris brought the teacup and saucer to her nose, closed her eyes to inhale, then took a rather prodigious gulp, then finished it off with the second gulp. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and set the teacup down on the desk again.

"One way or another, we'll all come to terms with it, captain," Paris offered with a nod to reassure her commander that Rita Paris really would be fine. "How are you, Commodore? Your ship was destroyed while hiding out here, or on their way out of the system?"

"I'm fine enough. Nothing a sonic shower and a cup of tea can't cure, anyway." Farenia raised her cup of tea before finishing it and setting it aside. "As for the ship, it was just an automated courier. The loss of the holographic crewman that was installed is unfortunate though. As for the diplomatic message that I used as a decoy, that was a holographic recording that I'm sure Hera could barely vent her frustrations on. All in all, that was the cheapest ship Command could spare and it served its purpose. Barely... Once it beamed the message and myself down, the ECH was ordered to book it out of the system, but didn't get far. The USS Cossette will be remembered for her noble sacrifice."

“That explains the Oberth class… I was wondering why a ship from my day and age was out here in a danger zone, and that does make much more sense. I’m glad there wasn’t a full crew complement, but here’s to the Cosette and her sacrifice,” Paris offered a two-fingered salute.

“That’s the bulk of my report, ma’am’s, without too much gory detail. Minimum casualties, maximum effect, and we squared off against a goddess. Correction, we captured a goddess, liberated a world and we lost a few personnel in the tunnels as I recall, but again, minimum casualties.” As there was no one about but the Commodore and the Captain, Paris slumped in the chair and let the weariness she felt show through for a moment. “Permission to crawl into bed for a few days?”

Enalia chuckled softly. "Only if you promise to visit sickbay first and the ship's masseuse after. Otherwise, go right ahead. Light duty is authorized for anyone that was on away missions for 72 hours, as long as they can get official reports in during that time."

"As for me, I'll be hopping another Oberth class courier in a few days to scout out another potential engagement zone. I'll send you the details as soon as I arrive. In the meantime, you'll have to deliver Hera to a prison ship, the Odin's Breath." Farenia was as vague as ever, of course.

“Sickbay for sure, and I’m probably going to be right as rain after a little Vulcan kolinahr master neuromuscular massage therapy, but if that doesn’t do the trick I’ll be in touch with the ship’s masseuse.” Paris paused, coking her head slightly. “A prison ship… that sounds pretty dreary, and exactly what she was expecting. I was hoping maybe we might… well. How many days til that rendezvous, Commodore?”

"About a week, I think. Odin's messenger wasn't the most clear." Farenia scrunched up her face in frustration.

A look of disgust crossed Enalia's face. "Those damned crow girls again? I wish he'd just send a subspace message like normal people... And why is he getting to take her? No... That's a discussion for another time. I'm sorry. Rita, please, go get some rest."

“With your permission, I’d like to know more, ma’am. Why the Odin? Why wouldn’t we keep her here? What’s this about crow girls… is that from Norse mythology, the ravens that served as Odin’s messengers and scouts... Huginn and Muninn, I think?” Rita was straining to recall details, but she only remembered so much from her ancient mythology courses in high school. Nothing energized her like questions.

Enalia poured herself another cup of tea and began the explanation. "Yeah, Odin has been on somewhat... Friendly terms... With the Federation and the Artan family specifically for a few generations. He only uses Huginn and Muginn as his messengers though."

"Unless he doesn't like you. Then he sends Valkyries," the Commodore helpfully added.

"I don't think we'd be around long enough to know if that were the case..." Enalia stared into her tea cup for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, the Odin's Breath is his more of a barge of the dead than a prison ship. I've been told it's this realm's version of Valhalla and has all the comforts and that no one has ever escaped, though a few were released."

Farenia scoffed at the description. "More like kicked out."

"Rumors of a few imprisoned Valkyries being... Kicked out... Aside, Hera should find it comfortable enough there." Enalia swirled her tea in her cup a bit before sipping at it.

“I need a scorecard,” Rita muttered. “All these god wandering the cosmos. All right… displacement field, whatever that is, sounds good to me, and I’ll try my hand at interviewing Hera in the next day or so. I’d like the chance to convince her to work on the side of the angels before we send her off to sleep with the Valkyries.” The lost navigator shrugged, wincing as she did so, as she still hadn’t dealt with the cracked collarbone and shoulder that had been gored by a harpy trying to haul her into the sky to dash her on the rocks.

“She’s the ship’s namesake, after all. It seems like… it’s probably silly, but I have to try all the same. I know, I know, stupid idealism of another age that doesn’t work in this practical world of the future, but… I have to at least try.” The words came out much sadder than she had intended, and Paris pinched the bridge of her nose to stop tears from coming. Trying so hard to find a peaceable solution and failing had been a huge blow to her, and spending the day compromising her principles to gun unreasonable enemies down had wounded her considerably. But this was neither the time nor place for that, particularly in front of the two women who had ordered her to do it.

"Hera refused to listen to reason. Sometimes you need to knock some sense into people and sometimes you need to use a really big stick." Enalia had no right to talk, but she could at least appreciate the position Rita was in. She and the Commodore had done far worse in the name of the Federation, after all. Rita was still new to this whole 'clean up other people's messes' thing that they did so often. "On the bright side, the Merosians have been reunited with their colonies, slaves freed, Earth won't be attacked... Countless lives were saved today, Commander."

"It's cowboy diplomacy, ma'am. Jim Kirk was a master at it, and it made him a legend. It isn't the first time I've had to resort to it or been ordered to employ it. Just something about it still doesn't set right with me. I know we did the right thing, and seeing a free planet reunited with its colonies so they can rebuild their civilization with the Federation's help is worth the violence. Which was probably fractional to what Hera inflicted on those people, and what they inflicted on one another. The gender politics on this planet are going to be interesting I'll bet." Paris realized she was rambling, so she got to the point.

"I'll work it out. I appreciate both of you hearing me out and letting me go on a bit while I try to figure what's in my craw. I'll say this," Paris wagged a finger. "Sonak went down in his uniform, like we did back in the old days. And I might have been okay in my uniform. I'm pretty good at this exploration thing. But I was damned glad for live feed tricorder readings without staring at a screen. I got battered, bruised and concussed more than once, and I was glad for those hardshell armor plates. In a war zone, arming and armoring for war saved my life, and my away team."

"Sonak told me that armor signals a willingness to violence, and significantly reduces the possibilities of peaceful resolution. Lacking military gear would show courage and conviction in our will for peace. But that stratagem would probably have gotten me killed. I'll work this out, and be ready for the next mission. And given all that I just verbally staggered through I should probably shut it before my superior officers have me sedated." On the Exeter, Rita had reported to Sonak and Stuart, and had referred to them collectively during meetings or briefings as 'sirs'. Now she simply adapted the gender dynamic to the future. "Permission to be dismissed, ma'am's?"

"We tried to make the armor look more like an EV suit..." Farenia muttered, staring into her empty teacup.

Enalia just scoffed, knowing just how little they looked like the stock EV suit. "Yeah, you're dismissed. Go get some rest. And visit the arboretum or something to relax."

Rising from her seat with some degree of effort was unavoidable for Paris, who had stiffened up when she had stopped moving for a few minutes. Straightening up with a grunt, she inhaled sharply then let it out slowly. "Saved a world, liberated a world, reunited cultures and captured one spiteful and petty goddess. A good day's work, Commodore, Captain. Glad I could help."

With that, Paris stiffly and slowly made her way out onto the bridge.

Watching her first officer painfully exit her ready room made Enalia wince. As soon as the doors closed behind her, she turned to Farenia. "Please tell me our next mission is to a nice peaceful place with rainbows and unicorns..."

"I don't know about that, but you should have time to recover at least." Farenia smirked her best and set aside her teacup as she too stood up to leave.

"It's a long hard trip into the galactic core, after all."

Hera v Hera

The crew of the Hera heads to Meroset 347 where Hera herself has issued a challenge to the vessel that has inherited her namesake. There they must overcome Minotaurs, Harpies, Amazons, and marble soldiers in order to sooth the irate woman's anger before she destroys the ship. While they do this, they learn of the plight of the natives to this planet and the hardships they've faced during Hera's reign. The Prime Directive comes into question as they must decide the Goddess's ultimate fate.

It turns out Hera returned because she's pissed at Zeus again because he really couldn't keep it in his pants and she's sending her minions out across the galaxy, harassing civilizations and trying to kill off all his other progeny, including about 40 sentient races, several other gods, etc... Included are Humans, Romulans, Trill, Vulcans, Cervan, Pomtol, and many others.

The initial plan is to go to the planet she's set up operations on currently, a primitive planet of Zeus's offspring that she's torturing, and assess the situation. Use the Selune and Thor to land a covert ops party while the Hera takes a more direct path in. The away teams are to find Hera's power generator and disable it and disable her army's base infrastructure while the ship uses wipe beam phasers to disable her armies and disable her outer defenses using the stealth plating in harrying tactics.

After that, the crew need to reassess the status of the Goddess and determine her future in Federation space. Will diplomacy win out or will Hera's wrath force the crew's hand in the end?

Mission Post Outlines/Goals

Staff Meeting
- Assume everyone already arrives, give a chance for pre-arrival of Enalia writing
- Captain is fashionably late, having just been briefed by Intel Command
- Enalia gives a brief overview of the situation with some holovid feed
- Hera is harassing over 40 races that she sees as the progeny of Zeus' loins with space chariots, minotaurs, amazon warriors, harpies, marble statues, etc...
- From the wreckage, it's surmised that the space chariots were designed by the forgemaster Vulcan but there's no sign of them at his forges
- Hermes has gone dark so there's no help expected from him

USS Hera bridge mission
- Enalia, Dauntless, Jurot, Dedjoy, Dox
- Hera arrives in outer system, launches runabouts Selune and Thor
- Distract Hera's forces using harrying techniques and the stealth plating

Selune mission
- Clemens, Baroness, French, Sexton, Kader, Redshirt team 1
- Seek out Hera's main and backup power sources and take them out at all costs
- Meet up with the Thor crew afterwards
- Discover the slave labor the locals are put to to create the arms and armaments of Hera's army
OOC Clemens: We need to acquire some of those arms and armaments, both for our own use, and for research. We also need to get in contact with whatever resistance exists.

Thor mission
- Paris, Duran-Yeager, Malana, Dael, Sonak, Thex, Redshirt team 2
- Cripple Hera's army's infrastructure
- Meet up with the Selune crew afterwards
- Discover the slave labor the locals are put to to create the arms and armaments of Hera's army

Selune/Thor mission meetup
- Enter Hera's hanging garden and confront her
- Cue one last epic fight scene
- Either convince her to give up her crusade or go fuck herself, preferably without her turning someone into an animal

OOC: French here. Well ill give you this. You don't mess around when you decide on a mission. Hera is a bad ass. Very Clever and going to be hard to beat.

McBain OOC: Do you want any help with running a redshirt? Be glad to run one or two. Also any thoughts on Seluune mission making a space jump from the runabout for a stealthier entry?

Sonak OOC: so that no one will freak out with my RP; Sonak is a Vulcan, a scientist, a pacifist and a Starfleet officer; he will follow orders, but will object to violence or anything based on irrationality, fear or anger. He sees as his duty to seek and offer rational, peaceful alternatives. He sure can fire a phaser and go hand to hand if this is called for (he is a master of Vulcan martial arts and taught to MACOS) and will not disobey orders short of committing actual crimes. But he sees violence against sentient beings as failure, even if unavoidable and justified. Firing on marble statues and non living constructs is less a problem; but he still beleives in Starfleet's rules of engagement: learn, communicate, disengage, disable and kill/destroy as a last resort.That's why there is a stun setting on phasers after all... and why Vulcans prefer the Nerve Pinch.

I refer to you the behavior of Spock in TOS Arena, Balance of Terror, The Doomsday Machine and Devil In The Dark. Sonak will go to war if war is upon us; but he will do so to end it, not put notches on his belt.

I say all this because, in other sims, some players were surprised, even annoyed, by my character openly or inwardly objecting to their decisions and actions. Be assured I do not play a disruptive character; I try to play the old school Vulcan and Starfleet officer and so maybe help inject the Star Trek conscience in the story as McCoy and Spock did in TOS and Data in TNG. It can certainly create character conflict (always interesting in stories), but it is to contribute to the story, not derail it, I assure you all. Just so you know :)

McBain reply to Sonak: That all sounds perfectly reasonable and will be a stark contrast to McBain. Should prove interesting LOL. One of the first things the Cappy told McBain was he was being issued a TR-116c battle rifle as his standard equipment! So the exchanges should be fun. Live and let live after all!

Sonak to McBain: that is the idea. And since we are not assigned to the same team at the start, but will meet later on in the mission, seems like our captain saw it coming LOL!

Paris: There is an entire sequence in one of the posts where Paris indicates that she comes from the era of the open hand of diplomacy, not the closed fist around the phaser, and that will always be her first choice. She'll fight and go to war when she must, but diplomacy is always her preference. So again, should be interesting how this mission plays. I am very much looking forward to it!

McBain: easy question will we know about the Minotaurs, harpies, and marble statues before we deploy or only after we are in the soup?

Paris: It will be covered in the briefing meeting, but yes, we will have some intel in advance, and we will definitely be doing some serious scanning recon before we send our people in.

Avender: *checks duty roster* Guess I'm sitting this one out?

Paris: Bridge duty for the Counselor- adjusted, sorry for the oversight! :)

Clemens: Not sure what off-ship resources we may be able to call upon once we engage the mission, but I think Intel has most of the dirty tricks that Section 31 gathered over the years. I'm sure the boss can advise on that, though. But we're Intel- dirty tricks are our gig. The Federation has run across lots of god-level stuff over the centuries.

French: I probably should have read this before making my response public in the staff meeting. I guess I should slow down!

***OOC Clemens: These cultures are aware of the outer universe, even if coached in mythical/magical terms. Just because her warp capable ships are called chariots doesn't mean that they don't know that other worlds and ftl don't exist. If anything, they've been routinely exposed to MORE advanced tech than WE have, what with polymorphing and stoning and teleportaton on a whim and all the Greek myths that we're just now starting to be able to replicate. Something to consider when looking at this through the lens of the Prime Directive. We're actually the primitives, here.***

OOC Jurot: I was hoping someone would note that. We are the primitives here. That said, their arrogance could be a weakness. As Avender is Betazoid, her knowledge of earth mythology is currently limited, so, to her, these are just another advanced alien race

OOC Sonak: Quite right Clemens. They are the one who interfered in human history (and now this alien world) and thus committed a violation of the Prime Directive. Of course they do not follow that directive, but acting to correct their violation, we are obeying it as we should.

OOC: Avender It's safe to assume they live by their own code, and maybe regard us as pets or lower.

OOC: Clemens It's a certainty on Hera's part- her actions speak volumes. She's fond of turning us into inanimate objects and animals. I think this frees us up to interact as we need to with the locals, to achieve our objectives.


OOC: Jurot We're assuming that no one is controlling her actions

OOC: Paris: Given the power level involved, that would be a very safe assumption I'm thinking.

OOC: French / Alex here. This is what I propose. I'm sending red shirts with each mission group. These of course will be unnamed npc' of course. To kill as you wish. The second half of my security obligation is to safeguard the ship. The Captain and attack our objective. Meaning Alex will lead a suicide squad that has the sole purpose of taking out Hear, once they get ahold of do decent weapons which they will try to find amongst Heras guards. Or to get close enough to use conventional explosives.

Part two provide security for the main group and work on our mission objective. Trust me, I will come up with something.

No need to announce OOC, I just realized- this is an OOC document in the OOC section. :)

Clemens: Below is the so-far-gathered intelligence on the Hera's previous encounters with Tyrant!Hera. I will try to clean them up as an IC document, but they're coming in here mostly-unedited.

Duran-Yeager: Okay, I might as well toss in my two cents. as I am not used to writing with a group of this level and skill.
given that Hera clearly can't be reasoned with and we have no help and none is coming. Its a shame we can't remotley hack these chariots and use them to cause a little mayhem, in the chaos we can slip in behind enemy lines.... aww well.

Paris: Okay folks, I truncated old conversations out of here to keep it to just OOC communication. Okay, everyone has a mission and everyone is tagging in, right? Home team and away teams and the solo mission all underway. Let's go save a world, people!

Az: Ok, I'm publishing this to the OOC Mission for posterity's sake!

Chief Flight Control Officer. The title rattled around in Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox's head.

When she first stepped foot on the flight deck of the U.S.S HERA only a few days ago, she expected to be assigned to the same basic duties she had fulfilled in her 6 years in Starfleet, flying shuttles and Runabouts like a glorified taxi driver. But within just those few days, she found herself on the bridge helming a STARSHIP into actual combat. And only a couple of hours ago, her new First Officer informed her that she was being field promoted to Chief Flight Control Officer. Melaine never expected to even be considered for a command position of any kind and still had a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

Standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror in her modest quarters, the words continued to stick in her mind. Chief Flight Control Officer. Her uniform lay on the floor by her feet as she had just taken a much needed Sonic shower after a very long and intense day. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, a short and plump young woman. Her thick, wavy auburn hair hung low across her shoulders. Dox had a soft and round build that was uncommon in Starfleet that brought her more her fair share of ridicule at the academy and still made her extremely self-conscious. She kept fit and always passed her physical trials, but her body did what it wanted and what it wanted was clearly to stay as it was regardless of how much work she put into containing her weight.

To look at her, you might never noticed her heritage as she showed no outward cues of it. But her mother was half-Romulan, making Melanie a quarter Romulan herself. But it was her very human father's DNA that seemed to dictate much of her appearance. She had her mother's face, with angled almond shaped eyes that gave her an almost elvish appearance. But her build and much of the rest of her features came from her father, a fairly short man of thick build with a shock of thick, curly red hair and a galaxy of freckles.

It was the combination of these features and physiology that ended up giving her the nickname of "Barbeque Sauce" at the academy. It was one-half a fat joke and one-half a jab at a remnant of her Romulan heritage: a distinctly unique color to her blood. She thought back to a training exercise where a fellow cadet had given her a bloody nose, something not uncommon in combat training. Her opponent, a smug young woman on the fasttrack to command named Rachel Pendergast let out a chuckle at the sight of Dox's blood which flowed out a dark brown color. That, combined with her weight earned Dox the nickname she despised and emotional withdrawls alienated her even more from her classmates.

Her heritage was a part of her public record and was, by no means a secret, but Romulans were enemies of the Federation and had extremely dubious reputations. Melanie learned the hard way the prejudices were still very real and had a way of following one to pop up when one wanted it to the least.

But Rita Paris, the Hera's energetic and statuesque First Officer, was well aware of Melanie's heritage AND very checkered past and it seemed to have zero affect on her new promotion. Chief Flight Control Officer.

Pulling on a loose fitting night gown and folding her uniform for laundering, Melanie considered what Rita Paris had said on the Runabout only a couple of hours ago. The Captain was impressed with her skills as a pilot. Paris was impressed. Even Ensign Gonadie who designed the Hera's flight control interface gave her praise. For her own part, Melanie was still trying to process it all. Praise was not something she knew how to deal with.

Growing up, Dox had been raised on smuggling ships, learning to fly at a young age piloting the neutral zone between Romulan space and the Klingon empire by the time she was 10. Her parents were smugglers and Dox found herself forced for years into that life rather reluctantly. But she learned to fly fast and think fast. She learned how to hide a ship in a planets gravity and not panic when a Klingon patrol was searching for them in asteroid fields. She learned to speak rudimentary Klingon and Romulan to avoid relying on universal translators when bluffing her way through checkpoints. She also learned Vulcan as her mother herself was only half Romulan and lacked the more common forehead ridges making it easier for her to pretend to be Vulcan when it was convenient.

But her father was an emotional man prone to angry outbursts at the slightest mistakes and her mother a very stern teacher who did not tolerate even the slightest failures. So from a very young age, Melanie was taught that no matter how well she thought she had done at a thing, that it was never quite good enough. This created a very strong defense mechanism that made it extremely difficult for her to accept praise at face value.

However, this was something Dox was quickly learning to push past on the Hera. Part of this came from Rita Paris that seemed to make it something of a personal mission to get Meline out of her shell. It was a trait that terrified her when she first met the striking and anacronistic XO a few days ago but made her smile now. In spite of a shaky and emotional first meeting, she found herself genuinely liking Paris.

She also liked the ships Chief Medical Officer, Asa Dael. Dael was a very young and extremely energetic, friendly El-Aurian who seemed to talk far more then her species was known for. And like Paris, Asa seemed to not be willing to let Melanie retreat emotionally. The Hera was certainly something different for Dox.

Walking over to the small replicator across from her bed, Melaine spoke out to the room. "Computer. 8 ounce bottle of flavored water. Cherry. Mild carbonation, please. Cold." In a moment, a light shimmer and the bottle came into existence. With a slight hiss, she opened the bottle and took a drink before resealing it and setting it on the nightstand by her bed. Moving to the closet, she pulled out a fresh uniform and placed it on the chair across the room from her bed, ready for the next morning and made her way across to her bed.

Sitting on the side, she spoke again to the room. "Computer, alarm for zero five hundred hours please. Lights to 5 percent." With a slight chime, the computer responded and the lights dimmed to near darkness. Melaine laid down pulling the thin fleece blanket she had brought with her on board over her. For a moment, she laid on her side as her mind wandered back to the events of her day and what awaited her in the morning. She could feel the hum of the Hera's engines through the walls of the ship and focused on it's light, slow and steady pulse and drifted off to sleep.