Author: Ens. Kell Demar
Title: The Omega Directive #66
--In Orbit of 6th moon--
Captain John Warner sat in his command chair next to his XO, S’Lek, watching the
Trakin moon on the viewscreen. He wondered as to the status of the fighters and
shuttle craft, in all the excitement he had forgotten about them. He tapped the
comm button on the air of his chair.
“Warner to Furry, report.”
He tried again “Warner to Furry, report.”
“Computer, Locate Lt.Furry”
“Lt.Furry is not onboard the USS.Edison”
Warner jumped up from his command chair.
“Computer locate any fighter or shuttle personal that were deployed during the
“None of those personal are onboard the Edison”
“No shuttles or fighters are onboard the Edison” Spoke up Commander Schaeffer.
“Get me Captain Kim in my ready room now.” Warner said as he walked to his ready
--10 Minutes Later--
Warner came out of his ready room with a angry look on his face. Commander S’Lek
“Should we set a course sir?”
“Negative, we are to proceed as planned, we will pick them up on the way back if
they are still there.”
The entire bridge crew stared at the captain, stunned. Dara stood up from her
chair, tears running down her face.
“We cant leave them sir.”
“Yes we can.” Warner sat down in his chair. “If we do not, the Monitor has
threatened to ‘stop us at all costs.’ Which we all know what that means. Now is
the away team ready to beam down?”
--Temp. SciOps/Life Sciences Lab--
--Same Time as Above--
Kell sat in his chair, Waiting to see what was going to happen. Lt.Bawcombe
burst in through the doors.
“Ensign, my office.” Bawcombe said as he half jogged into his office.
Kell walked in and sat down.
“Ensign” Bawcombe began “This is all highly classified and can not be told to
anyone unless deemed necessary. Do you understand?”
Bawcombe handed Kell a padd. “This is what is going on, you will be going with
the away team, as am I. That padd will detail what Omega is about, how we may
stop it, and how to detect it. You are due in transporter room 3 in five
minutes. All Starfleet directives, including the prime directive, are void, this
must be destroyed all any cost. Do you under stand Ensign?” Bawcombe asked with
a dead serious expression on his face.
Kell snapped to attention. “Aye aye sir!”
Bawcombe walked out and left Kell to look over the padd. Kell skimmed over the
padd. What he was reading was impossible, no power source could be this perfect,
this was Borg perfect. It was also the perfect super weapon, a few of these and
you could destroy an empire, or at the very lest set them back a few centuries.
He realized that he was due in the transporter room. He walked out into the lab
and handed control of the science dept. to Lt.Vasilyeva. He headed to the
Kell walked into the transporter room to find various staff peoples, all dressed
in iso suits, well modified suits. Kell slipped into one,put on a type 2
phaser,grabbed a tricorder and waited.
Ensign Kell Demar
Asst. Chief Science Officer &
"Acting" Chief Of Stellar Sciences
Author: LTJG Jon Wilber
Title: Your Only Allies Are Enemies #153
Seated around a large oak table were almost a dozen officers, with
varying uniforms, ranging from Commander Sarbaugh to a Rear Admiral
Harrison, one of the few surviving members of Starfleet Command. Two
seats remained unattended -- those left for Captains Van Kinsbergen and
"Shall we wait for them?" Harrison asked, hesitant.
The brooding Captain Sisko shook his head. "There's no need to. They've
done their part for us." He looked around the table to the various
faces. "Let's begin."
Commander Sarbaugh rose. "Dammnit!" he cried, his boiling frustration
beginning to escape. "There's no need for him! Computer, deactivate
Sisko ECH." As the Captain dissapeared, the computer confirmed
Sarbaugh's angered command with a simple response.
"Emergency Command Hologram deactivated."
"Jeez... if I had to sit through one more meeting with that mess of
force fields, I swear...." He paused, and took a look around. "My
apologies, Admiral. I'm not usually like that. There's been so much
stress lately; the demise of the Edison, and the arrival of these people..."
"None needed. I had been wanting to deactivate him for quite some time
myself. But he was necessary for our newcomers. Besides," he chortled,
"did you see the look on Warner's face?!? He completely folded!"
"I was surprised myself," commented Captain Naala, entering the room
with Captain Van Kinsbergen. They looked around. "Commander," she
addressed, adding, "Captains, Admiral." She quickly sat at her seat, and
nodded somberly. "They have so much more to offer than they're letting on."
"Absolutely," Van Kinsbergen added, nodding. "They have reserves nearly
twice that of the start of the War. They have a lot of talent on that
ship. Familiar names, famous names. Warner is on that ship, S'Lek,
O'Keefe, Furry, myself... there hasn't been enough change in their
universe to lose the numbers we have."
"Very well," noted Harrison, beginning to lose interest in the Captain's
words. "So, when do we let the crew know?"
Sarbaugh looked blankly at the Rear Admiral. "Are you serious? We have
the entire ship under our control, and then we're going to tell Warner
and the rest of the command staff that it was all practice and training?
I don't think so." He settled into his chair.
Harrison stood up, and looked at the group. "As difficult as times may
seem now, there is still no reason to be holding any member of the
Federation, or the Resistance, or whatever in the hell we _do_ call it
nowadays, in fear of a fellow officer. These beings are professionals,
too; a single officer on that ship may have more morals than the
entirety of this room. We can't have those kinds of people in fear of
our disruptors." He sighed. "But... enough with the Edison; they're
docked. We can inform them later." Returing to his seat, Harrison looked
around the room. "Anything more to report?"
Naala cleared her throat. "Those modifications to our communications
relays... we haven't seen any results yet. We'll keep working at it, see
if we can find another Resistance station."
Harrison nodded. "What about listening into Dominion channels?"
The color from Naala's face began to drain slightly. "We've been getting
chatter lately regarding a codename 'Omega.' As of right now, there's no
telling what this could mean. But we've kept tight to the channels, and
we're getting anything that comes up on our sensors."
"Okay. Anything else?" Admiral Harrison sharply looked at each officer.
"Fine. Dismissed." Slowly, the others began to rise and filter out of
the room. As the last officer left the conference room, Harrison slumped
over in his chair. "'Omega,'" he whispered to himself. "We swore, up and
down, that this would never happen; they'd never find out." He slammed
his fist sharply against the table.
Startling himself, he jutted his face up, and started at a corner of the
room's ceiling. "Computer," he called, longingly, "one vodka, straight.
And activate the Sisko ECH." The hologram and distilled beverage
appeared within microseconds of the other. Harrison stood up, and
grabbed his vodka glass roughly, spilling the crystal liquid onto the
table. "Oh, Ben..." he called aimlessly, hoping the hologram would
answer him for once. "Why has it become so difficult? Our homes, lost;
our information, stolen; our families and friends, killed. Why do they
need to continue? What logic stems from their necessity to kill all
Sisko, staring blankly at the doorway, kept his inhuman silence.
"We must find our invisible allies, the sooner the better. I am sure we
can get back some of our lost glory." Draining the vodka, he sighed.
"Ben, it can be like the good old days... the darkest days are behind
us. We have a new Edison, and a new hope." Harrison looked at the glass
again. "That's strange, Ben. I didn't know I could do that. No matter;
what is important is that we think on this. We can't let this get too
out of hand, Ben. You remember what happened the first time we tried to
rise up against the Dominion-- devastation. Ben, hat's how you were
killed.... That's how I was killed."
He had once again found his favorite spot on the ceiling. "Computer,
deactivate all ECHs." The two men in the room dissapeared, and the
lights dimmed to darkness.
Lt (jg) Jon Wilber
Chief CONN Officer
Author: LTJG Dara WindDancer Montgomery
Title: Your Only Allies Are Enemies #60
When the whole ugly fight had begun, Dara Montgomery had immediately
left her quarters to report to Sickbay. Technically, she as Counselor
might have reported to the Bridge, but she had never felt as though
she were one to advise the Captain. If he needed her assistance, he
would call her to him. So when the alert had started she prepared to
go to Sickbay in case she was needed to calm a patient or aid in
medical tasks. The Captain may not always need her advice, but the
injured could always use an extra pair of skilled hands.
The crush coming from deck 8 wasn't as bad as it might have been at a
shift change. Most of the officers had already manned their stations,
leaving at the first hint of trouble. Dara however had been feeling
under the weather, taking her time getting dressed and leaving her
quarters. She just couldn't seem to shake the bizarre sense of
impending doom she'd had since speaking with DarkSky. Not long ago,
her tattoo had begun to sting and burn, and she wondered what the
Dolphin Spirit could be trying to tell her. She was lost in a certain
reverie as she entered the lift, hardly noticing the medical ensign
and security crewman who were already in the lift.
"12, Main Sickbay," she murmured softly, trying to figure out what
the premonitions were all about.
"Please restate request."
"12, Sickbay," answered one of the men behind her, saving her the
"Thank you," she murmured, still utterly absorbed in her own
The lift descended smoothly to deck 10, releasing the security
crewman, leaving Dara and the medical ensign to descend to 12 alone.
Suddenly, the lift seemed to sway slightly, as though the world was
losing cohesion. Dara was knocked to the floor, too caught in
thoughts to keep her balance. She snapped to full awareness
instantly, taking the ensign's hand and accepting his help up.
"Wonder what's going on, Counselor?"
Dara nodded and tapped her comm badge. Nothing. Calmly, she tapped it
again. =/\=Montgomery to Ops.=/\=
Nothing. Eloquent silence filled the turbolift, speaking volumes to
the hungry ears of the occupants of the lift.
"Shouldn't we hear the lift moving?" asked the ensign.
"We _should_, but I wouldn't begin to worry just yet. Engineering and
Ops are good folks. They'll have us on our way in no time." Dara
smiled maternally, consciously projecting feelings of comfort and
warmth to the obviously agitated man. "I'm Counselor Dara; what's
"Harvey. Harvey Reynolds." He extended his hand again, this time to
be shaken rather than to give her a hand up. She took it gently and
squeezed a pressure point in the off-center of his palm. Harvey took
a sudden deep breath and smiled, relaxed now. "What was that?"
She copped a mysterious expression to hide her own concern. "Old
Indian secret," she intoned solemnly.
He laughed, mollified for the time being, and slid down the wall of
the lift to rest on the floor. He patted the floor next to him and
looked querulously at Dara. She sank down next to him to await some
word over the comms or the movement of the lift. Long moments passed
and the ensign began to panic again, rubbing his hands together
noisily and fervidly. Dara observed him for a second, then grinned at
"Want to talk about it, Harvey?" Dara leaned her head back against
the wall, languidly braiding her long loose hair as she watched him.
"I dunno, Dara, I just panic and the walls close in. Classic claustro
case." He leaned back and looked at her, blue eyes crowded with pain
and scarcely constrained terror.
Her heart went out to him. "Would you like to sing a song to get your
mind off of it?"
He chuckled mirthlessly, obviously caught off-guard. "Sure. Which
"You are a Terran aren't you?"
Harvey nodded. "Could you tell?"
Dara smiled and launched into a verse of The Beatles' "Hey Jude".
Harvey just stared at her a moment as though she'd lost her mind, but
joined in when she reached the second verse. By the time they'd sung
the last na-na, they realized something was really wrong. Comms were
still not functioning and the lift was as frozen in place as ever.
Harvey had begun to panic again, and it was all Dara could do to keep
him moderately calm. She wondered if they had been missed, and tried
to reassure herself that they surely had. Two people both missing
from medical, someone had to have noticed...
Harvey decided to try and push through the top of the lift and take a
look-see. Dara sat against the wall of the lift away from the door
and from the panel Harvey was trying to open. She continued to have a
bad feeling, her heart pounding hard enough to bruise. Harvey finally
wrenched the panel free and propelled himself through to the waist,
getting a look around.
"I think the power is failing in the lift tube, Dara... I don't know
exactly. I mean, I'm no engineer, but it seems to me that we have
auxiliary power lighting the lift, and main power is off out here.
I'm getting cold, so I'm coming back in." He started to shift, his
body wriggling as he prepared to drop.
Suddenly the lift lurched and the power surged, blacking out the
lift. Dara forced herself to stay calm, though she wanted to
scream. "Harvey? Did you trip a switch?"
No answer. "Harvey?" A little more of her near-overwhelming anxiety
crept into her voice. "Harvey? Are you ok?"
She blinked hard against the velvety darkness, barely able to make
out the silhouette of Harvey's lower body still hanging from the open
panel. She reached a tentative hand to tug gently on his pant
leg. "Har-veeey?" She tugged more insistently, her mind near
paralyzed with her worry and fear. All at once his body dropped,
crushing her under its weight. A thrill of revulsion shot through her
and she knew instinctively that he was dead. She steeled herself to
press her fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse and found instead
that his head had been sheared off halfway down the neck.
A tsunami of fear washed over her, catching her off guard and
dragging her under into its still, cold blackness.
A familiar voice echoed in the fog around her, leading her toward a
safe place. She clung to the hand that grasped hers, fighting against
an almost insurmountable wave of nausea and residual panic. She heard
words coming to her from that voice. It was slowly becoming less a
sound and more a communication.
"Dara? Dara, are you ok?"
Dara tried to identify the voice, knew it was someone she cared
about, but she couldn't place it... It wasn't her Adadoda, or her
grandparents; they would be speaking to her in the language of People.
"Can you look at me, Dara?" It was a man's voice, racked with worry
She felt the side of her face warmed by the presence of a huge hand,
and she turned her cold nose and lips into its palm to warm them. She
opened her eyes slowly, blinking at the bright artificial lights
shining into her face. A moment later, Ambler's face swam into view,
and she tried to smile. She saw his worried expression transform into
a broad grin of relief.
"I was afraid you were a goner there," he muttered, leaning forward
and enveloping her in a tight hug.
As a sudden impulse took hold of her, she pulled Furry's head away
from her shoulder and held it where she could look into his
eyes. "You saved me."
He smiled slightly and said, "Well, I wasn't going to leave you here
to rot." He jerked his head back to gesture to a couple of yellow
shirts standing outside the lift doors. The lift was between floors,
Ambler having slipped inside through an opening of about a meter. The
yellow shirts were waiting, presumably to help them out of the still
darkened lift. A body bag lay on the floor outside the lift,
containing poor Harvey's decapitated remains, she surmised. "They
helped me find you. Most of the lifts stopped working and it didn't
take me too long to track you down to this one."
Dara looked around the lift, seeing the blood pooled under her,
feeling for the first time its stickiness on her hands and face. She
glanced at Ambler's cheeks where her palms had been. Faint traces of
blood were visible, looking ironically like hastily rubbed-away
lipstick marks. He followed her gaze and asked, "Is any of it-"
"Mine?" He nodded. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"Well, I think we should get you to Sickbay." He stood and offered
her his hand.
She grasped it, trying to pull herself to her feet, but she fell back
again, the world swirling madly around her. "Sorry," she murmured,
feeling slightly embarrassed.
"Don't be," Ambler replied, scooping her up in his arms and passing
her out to the crewmen waiting for her. He pulled himself up behind
her and they parted ways with the crewmen.
"Which deck are we on?"
"12. Sickbay is just a hop, skip, and jump ahead."
"Funny, that is just where I was headed when all hell broke loose."
She walked into Sickbay calmly, though leaning on Ambler for
support. "Counselor Montgomery reporting, Dr. Vespasian."
LTJG Dara WindDancer Montgomery
Authors: Ens. Jon Wilber and Ens Dara WindDancer Montgomery
Title: "Shower of Stars" #38
=prior to #36=
The surface of the ground rippled with the impact of the shuttlecraft,
seeming to absorb all the energy of the shuttle, without cushioning the
force of impact. Immediately, pieces of the now-defunct shuttle shot
away at skewed angles, and charcoal smoke began to expel from the spaces
occupied by those pieces. It was an obvious and looming sign of fire
inside the cabin. From far off, any observer would instantly think the
shuttle to be little more than rubble and the remains of a poor
evacuation run, but inside was an entirely different story.
Dara's eyes opened, slowly, to reveal a crack running widthwise along
the forward windows, a number of large boulders kept watch, to reveal
themselves as the culprit the impending doom. In the back of the
shuttle, a few men were struggling to regain consciousness and attempted
to get on their feet again. Suddenly, a conduit erupted, sending a miner
flying into the other wall of the shuttle, killing him. As he hit the
floor, flames were seen to be coming from the blown relay, the flames
reaching down to the floor of the shuttle.
She struggled to extricate herself from the chair, she looked over to
Jon. His body was slumped forward, onto the flickering console. From her
position, she could see blood drying along the console, slightly smeared
from shifting of his body over the passing hours. She couldn't tell
whether he was alive or not, but she sensed he was most likely
unconscious. After a little more effort, she finally managed to free
herself from the chair, and got up to survey the damage to the cargo
hold of the shuttle.
Generally, the miners on the shuttle were on the floor, with the
exception of one or two who had managed to find the safety restraints in
time. They seemed to be alright, regaining consciousness shortly after
Dara. However, as they realized the fates of some of their companions,
they remained silent, watching Dara move about them. She struggled to
turn a man facing the shuttle wall face-up, only to reveal widened eyes
and no pulse. She sighed slightly, and double checked by pulling out a
tricorder she brought for the trip-- just in case. Yes, he was dead,
but, as she turned around, she realized Jon was not. Without a moment's
hesitation, she pulled him off the console, and leaned the pilot's chair
back as a makeshift bed.
Looking him over, the first thing to jump out and make itself apparent
to her was the tension of his pant leg near the ankle-- any betting man
would put his money on a broken leg. She reached her arm down to touch
it, and as she came in contact with the bone, Jon tensed up, and his
face screwed up into one of pain and agony. He briefly opened his eyes,
and was face to face with Dara.
A look of compassion swept across her face, and she began to speak. She
paused, however, when he struggled to raise his arm to stop her. In a
hoarse whisper, he said, "Check the sensors-- find out if we've been
She turned towards the co-pilot's console, and tapped a few commands
gently, almost with a fear that if she were to tap it too hard, it would
break. Echoing through the silent shuttle was the sound of sensors not
responding. "Must be the rubble sitting on top of us," she mentioned,
motioning to the sensor panel.
Furrowing his brow, Jon stared the ceiling down as if they were
competing in a chess tournament. He had a gut feeling that Captain
Warner would send a rescue team, but how many people in the shuttle were
still alive, and how many EVA suits did they have? During the pre-launch
meeting, he made sure each shuttle was equipped with as many EVA suits
as possible, but he wasn't sure if any of those suits actually made
their way to the shuttles. He turned his head to Dara with a look of
frustration crisscrossing his face.
"What is it, Jon? How can I help?" She turned to face the passengers,
assessing their condition.
He nodded his head backwards, trying to motion towards the furthermost
rear of the shuttle. "We've got to be prepared for any rescue they've
got coming. Transporters won't be able to get through this, just like
the sensors, but they'll probably just try to cut their way into the
ship. How many people are alive in the cargo hold?" She shrugged her
shoulders, but turned around to check on the passengers and EVA suits.
Dara moved gracefully through the clutter of the cockpit toward the
hold. Of the men they'd lifted off with only three were still alive, and
the futility of this evacuation seemed proved once over. She smiled
encouragingly at the survivors as she stepped over the bodies of the
dead. She found the EVA suits. In a slightly sick voice, she called to
Jon, "There are four suits and three live ones."
An instant after she spoke, he realized what that meant. He turned
towards the ceiling and instead of looking at and adversary, he seemed
to be searching for an answer. Moments later, however, his eyes rolled
to the back of his head, and his head settled slightly askew. Blood
trickled from his leg as Dara looked on.
She moved back to where he sat, tears of sympathy and terror welling in
her eyes. She forced herself to regain control, breathing deeply and
murmuring a prayer. Finally she laid her small, cool hand on his cheek
and murmured to her spirits to help him, then she withdrew the tricorder
and scanned him, trying to do whatever she could to save him, thinking
"I can't do this alone!" but only saying, "Come on, Jon, pull through."
A sudden rumble of rubble on the port side of the ship meant one of two
things: either rescuers had come, or the weakened structure of the
shuttle was beginning to give way. However, as Jon's commbadge chirped
with static, Dara instantly realized it was the former.
Dara's heart leapt in her chest, and she fiddled with her own badge a
moment, trying to boost it as they'd shown her in survival at Academy.
She tapped it and attempted to communicate. "Ensign Montgomery to
anyone! Can you hear me?"
Moments seemed to pass like hours as she waited for a response from the
team. Then, through the static of the commbadge, she could hear, "...
Tris-- cut- ... the hull-" before hearing only static again.
=Outside the Shuttle=
The team approached the shuttle slowly, monitoring the now-stable rocks
hiding it from view. He looked over to Lieutenant Jayel, and back to his
tricorder. Dust was still settling far off, and they had reached the
last known location of the shuttle. The team raced over to the rising
cloud of dust and smoke, and sure enough, a glimpse of the Federation
symbol was to be seen.
Petty Officer Nick DeTovar(npc) pulled out a phaser, and as she raised
it towards the rocks, Trisk grabbed his arm, preventing any catastrophe
from befalling the crew trapped inside. "We must contact them first." He
tapped his commbadge.
Dara moved to get the miners and her into an EVA suit, feeling guilty
and helpless about Jon, but not knowing what else to do. She braced the
miners for what was coming but strayed from Jon's side, focusing on
trying to contact the rescuers, but to no avail.
With her back turned towards the miners and away from the cockpit, she
did not realize Jon had regained consciousness. He struggled to move
himself upright, against the pain of his leg and the concussion he had
sustained. Turning himself gently around, he saw Dara and the miners
with EVA suits, and heard the phasers cutting the rocks and starting to
reach the hull.
A sense of impending doom washed over him with a nauseating feeling of
fear and disgust. Distinctive cuts could be heard on the hull, and
before an opening was made, Jon quickly hobbled over to the co-pilot's
Dara turned around to take one last look at Jon. However, he wasn't
there, and her quick frantic searching took her to the adjoining seat,
where Jon was furiously working to save himself. He tapped controls on
the console, bringing up the power reserves and the life-support
systems. As a hole formed in the cargo hold of the shuttle, a force
field surrounded the cockpit, encasing Jon in a protective shell.
Dara heaved a sigh of relief, horrified at the thought of what might
have happened and slightly ashamed she hadn't thought to do that. The
hole was widening steadily, and momentarily she knew she'd see a
friendly face smiling at her.
Jon returned to the pilot's chair, though much more like a bed, and lay
down, exhausted from his rush life-saving effort. He kept his eyes open
just long enough to furrow his brow at the sight of Lieutenant Jayel in
an EVA suit next to Lieutenant Trisk, wearing a standard Starfleet
The two officers looked at the situation at hand. All who could possibly
have been saved seemed to be alright and Ensign Wilber had done
correctly keeping himself in the cockpit with a force field. However,
the temperature in the cockpit could not remain, and everyone realized
the quickening danger as Jon fell unconscious again.
Ensign Jon Wilber
Acting Chief CONN Officer
Ensign Dara WindDancer Montgomery